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Revan86

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May 16, 2006
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Hello, folks. I am just reserving this space here for the EU4 megacampaign continuation of my CK3 AAR, The Lions of Olomouc.

Gameplay in CK3 is now complete for that AAR, notes are all taken, but the storytelling is just in its infancy. (I have a bad habit of playing ahead...) It may be a fairly long while - a matter of months, very likely - before I get around to writing anything substantive on this thread. However, for the present, I can say the following things about it.

- It starts on 1 January 1453
- Obviously no achievements (mod) and normal mode
- DLC Enabled at Start: Conquest of Paradise, El Dorado, Art of War
- It continues the story of the fortunes of Moravia, with its capital in Olomouc
- Moravia has remained Orthodox (with some bumps in the road), and hopefully will remain so
- The storytelling of this playthrough will explore the strains of playing as a country with Western technology and an Eastern European cultural outlook

eu4_1.png

Some interesting things have happened in the CK3 game. Bordergore has clearly happened, but the amount of it is fairly modest, all things considered. Expect to see the following in the early years of EU4 gameplay:

- Moravia's complicated relationship with Nuortasápmelaččat in the far chilly north
- How Moravia's alignment with the Sámi leads to conflict with Norse Catholic Garðaríki
- Five different Russian states with three different faiths
- A ginormous Papal State with some serious territorial ambitions
- The fate of Muslim Brittany
- The likely last stand of Adamite Croatia

At any rate, please stay tuned! And if you're interested in how the above scenario happened, please feel free to come visit my CK3 AAR...
 
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I shall follow this with interest
 
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Table of Contents
As it turns out, I couldn't resist getting started on the EUIV megacampaign. Ah well. Without further ado, here is:

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The starting character here is Róbert - also referred to colloquially as Bertík, Červeník, Bertík-Zobák or Robin (le Bec) - Rychnovský, who also happens to have been the ending character from my Crusader Kings III game which I imported with the conversion tool. His consort is Elisabet Totilsdotter Vasa; his eldest son is Vojtech Rychnovský, and he has a grandson through Vojtech named Bohodar. Apologies if there is any confusion about the characterisation here, particularly about his stutter or other past events that are given merely passing reference; I promise that it will make sense once I get to the end of my other AAR.

So, with regard to the EU4 DLC and content expansions that I'm using. In the gameplay, I used:
- Conquest of Paradise
- El Dorado
- Art of War
- Third Rome (after 1594 in gameplay)
- Rights of Man (after 1674 in gameplay)

For flavour, I ended up going back and using the Rights of Man DLC on saves prior to 1674 in-game. I loaded the static saves with RoM enabled and took notes on the way my kings' and heirs' personalities shaped up, as well as the names and personalities of their consorts. That DOES NOT APPEAR in the gameplay or in the screenshots. Weird as it may sound, I am using RoM not for the game mechanics in the early years but only for storytelling purposes.

Anyway, to get started with the Table of Contents:


Table of Contents
Act I. From the Carpathian Wars to the Fall of House Rychnovský
(1 January 1453 – 31 January 1661)

ONE. New Horizons
TWO. The Valiant
THREE. Nordgau and Luleå
  Interlude I. Untitled
FOUR. Detvanský and Khovanský - Parts I, II and III
FIVE. From Keminmaa to Kem'
SIX. The May Day War - Parts I, II and III
SEVEN. The Short Reign of Vojtech 4.
EIGHT. With a Young King in Between - Parts I, II, III, IV and V
NINE. The Soirée
TEN. The Ivan Žerotínov Act
ELEVEN. Detvanský and Khovanský (Again)
TWELVE. Consolidation
THIRTEEN. A Branch Takes Root
FOURTEEN. The Sale of the Thaya
FIFTEEN. Bolts in the Baltic
SIXTEEN. Bážá Ruigi
SEVENTEEN. Northern Expansion
  Interlude II. A Matter of Perspective
EIGHTEEN. The Ascent of Kráľ Jozef
NINETEEN. Moravian Laponia
TWENTY. Vyřkedant
TWENTY-ONE. The Sale of the Viedenský Les
TWENTY-TWO. The Deaths of the Sons of Prokop
TWENTY-THREE. Labourers in the Vineyard
TWENTY-FOUR. The Lord Is a Man of War
TWENTY-FIVE. The Valley of Berachah - Parts I and II
TWENTY-SIX. On Bosnian Breviloquence
TWENTY-SEVEN. Protectorate of Kola
TWENTY-EIGHT. (Ain’t It Funny How the) Type Moves
TWENTY-NINE. Dolné Sliezsko
THIRTY. Guilds and Generals
THIRTY-ONE. At the Gates of al-Mawṣil
THIRTY-TWO. The Manufactory
THIRTY-THREE. Podolie - Parts I, II, III and IV
THIRTY-FOUR. Otakar’s Penance
THIRTY-FIVE. It’s Scientific
THIRTY-SIX. Productivity, Plague and Purkyne - Parts I and II
  Interlude III. Between Worst and Best
THIRTY-SEVEN. The Defeat - Parts I and II
THIRTY-EIGHT. Despotizmus a zmenkizmus
THIRTY-NINE. The Long Ladder
FORTY. Vindication - Parts I and II
FORTY-ONE. Bells and Bulbs
FORTY-TWO. … Would Smell as Sweet
FORTY-THREE. A Fortress Too Far
FORTY-FOUR. Calm before the Storm
FORTY-FIVE. The Regency of Alžbeta Kafendová
  Interlude IV. When Guards Change, So Does Policy
FORTY-SIX. Educating a King
FORTY-SEVEN. Seeds of Change
FORTY-EIGHT. Zbor
FORTY-NINE. Belong to Us - Parts I, II and III
FIFTY. Moravians in Newfoundland
FIFTY-ONE. New Heresies, Old Rivalries
FIFTY-TWO. The Lady of the Volga
FIFTY-THREE. A Mill on the Kama
FIFTY-FOUR. A Well-Grounded Practice
FIFTY-FIVE. Medium Roast
FIFTY-SIX. The War of the Carpathian Succession - Parts I and II
  Interlude V. Two Sides of the Coin

Act II. From the Belgorod Zemsky Sobor to the Scandal of Ostrava
(14 April 1661 – 2 April 1752)
ONE. Zemsky Sobor in Belgorod
TWO. Counter-Reform
THREE. Reorganisation of the North
FOUR. Jaromír
FIVE. Waters of Tribute
SIX. Munitions and Metropolitans
SEVEN. Landfried and Livonia
EIGHT. Imma
NINE.
TEN.

Act III. From the Hradecko Settlements to the Collapse of Revolutionary Asturias
(2 April 1752 – 4 December 1817)





table_of_moravian_rulers.png
Ruler Name
Reign
House
Consorts and Issue
Mojmír 1.​
830-846​
Mojmír​
unknown woman, at least 1 child
Rastislav​
846-870​
Mojmír​
Jaromila, 1 child
Bratromila*​
870-917​
Mojmír​
Chlothar Karling-Bari, 6 children
Chlothar mladší*
917-924​
Karling-Bari​
Alexandrina Hrabar, 5 children
Viera z Nitrava, 1 child
Bohodar slovoľubec†​
911​
Rychnovský​
Mechthild of Stuttgart, 6 children​
Bohodar 1. mladší†​
911-944​
Rychnovský​
Blažena Rychnovská, 7 children​
Pravoslav​
944-982​
Rychnovský​
Marija Kobilića, 7 children
Radomír 1. hrozný
982-1001​
Rychnovský​
Raina Srednogorska, 5 children
[Kvetoslava, 1 natural child]
Jakub​
1001-1025​
Rychnovský​
Eirēnē Drougouvitissa, 6 children
Eustach staviteľ chrámu
1025-1068​
Rychnovský​
Dolz de Touraine, 4 children
Tomáš 1.​
1068-1107​
Rychnovský​
Ricciarda da Castro Arquato, 6 children
Bohodar 2. odvážny
1107-1125​
Rychnovský​
Alitz Hrabar, 5 children
Prisnec 1.​
1125-1146​
Rychnovský​
Viera Rychnovská, 5 children
Radomír 2.​
1146-1155​
Rychnovský​
Æþelswíþ Wulfgifusdohtor, 4 children
Bohodar 3. letopisár
1155-1199​
Rychnovský​
Árpád-Hotin Czenzi, 8 children
Vojtech 1.​
1199-1203​
Rychnovský​
Kostislava Balharská-Borsa, 5 children
Želimír​
1203-1220​
Rychnovský​
Živana Rychnovská-Lehnice, 8 children
Kaloján chrabrý
1220-1268​
Rychnovský​
Bohumila Rychnovská-Nisa, 9 children
Radomír 3.​
1268-1305​
Rychnovský​
Lucia of Kráľovec, 8 children
Bohodar 4.​
1305-1329​
Rychnovský​
Pribislava of Ňamec, 5 children
Vojtech 2.​
1329-1337​
Rychnovský​
Alexandrina Komnenia, 2 children
Lodovica da Ponte, 5 children
Radomír 4.​
1337-1388​
Rychnovský​
Katarína Koceľová, 10 children
Ostromír​
1388-1407​
Rychnovský​
Ermissinde ‘Imma’ de Vasconia-Boulogne, 5 children
Vojtech 3.​
1407-1414​
Rychnovský​
Adriana, 4 children
Róbert​
1414-1468​
Rychnovský​
Elisabet ‘Ilse’ Totilsdatter Vasa, 5 children
Vojtech 4.​
1468-1472​
Rychnovský​
Predslava, 5 children
Prokop posmrtný
1472-1519​
Rychnovský​
Helene Mosienková, 10 children
Jozef​
1519-1531​
Rychnovský​
Lesana Sokolová, 1 child
Tomáš 2.​
1531-1608​
Rychnovský​
Milomíra Sokolová, 3 children
Otakar​
1608-1623​
Rychnovský​
Vasilisa Štefánikova, 1 child
Prisnec 2.​
1623​
Rychnovský​
--
Mojmír 2.​
1623-1672​
Hlinka​
Svietlana Kotúľová, 3 children
Jaromír​
1672-1681​
Hlinka​
Mislava Cikkerová, 4 children
Judita​
1681-​
Hlinka​
Landfried von Asch
* Ruler of eastern Moravia during the Partition, 911-924.
† Ruler of western Moravia during the Partition, 911-924. Moravia was reunified under Bohodar 1. in 924.



medieval_moravian_saints.png

Equals-to-the-Apostles Cyril and Methodius, Teachers of the Slavs [historical]
+869, f.d. 11 May
Brothers according to the flesh, as well as according to the habit of monastics.
They were invited into the realm of Moravia to preach the word of Christ to the Slavs.
They created the Cyrillic writing system which is used to this day by many Slavic languages.

Righteous Prince Rastislav (Mojmírov) of Moravia [historical]
+870, f.d. 11 May
Just and high-minded Moravian king who invited the monastic brothers Ss. Cyril and Methodius to teach the Moravians about Christ.
[In actual history] Was murdered by his ambitious nephew Svätopluk in a bid for power.
[In this AAR] Was ousted by his Silesian vassal Wratyslaw in a bid for power.

This megacampaign AAR is a continuing work of fiction.
All characters described below this line are entirely fictitious.
Any resemblance to actual persons who are dead in the world but alive in Christ is coincidental.


Saint Vojmil, Archbishop of Moravia
+887, f.d. 15 August
First Orthodox archbishop of Moravia, credited with preserving the Faith in that land.

Martyr Radomír (Rychnovský) of Horné Hlohov
+894, f.d. 25 March
Son of Bohodar Slovoľubec who was killed in battle by heathen Danes during a battle with Lusatia.
Considered a martyr. Often depicted holding an axe, the weapon he was killed by.

Blessed Liutbald, Fool-for-Christ
+910, f.d. 14 October
Also called Leopold. A hermit and holy man who lived near Olomouc.
Reproached Bohodar 1. for his incest, and predicted Pravoslav’s manner of death.

Saint Kochan (Žatecký) of Voden
+936, f.d. 29 August
Czech lord of Žatec, who fell in battle against the Norsemen while helping to defend the Eastern Emperor.
Considered a martyr because he was killed by heathen in the defence of the Faith.

Saint Tas (Přemyslovec) of Boleslav
+952, f.d. 7 August
Lord of Boleslav, who was renowned as a tutor and mentor to King Pravoslav.
Revered by the Church as a model of faithfulness and loyalty.

Saint Mutimír (Bijelahrvatskić) ‘the Leper’ of Šariš
+981, f.d. 3 September
A White Croat nobleman who contracted an incurable skin condition from an infected wound in battle.
He carried this affliction in patience and without complaint, and met his death in a Christlike way.
He is sometimes portrayed carrying, or wearing, the gown and wrappings of a leper.

Saint Lada (Rychnovská), Enlightener of Silesia
+987, f.d. 15 February
Half-Avar granddaughter of Bohodar Slovoľubec, sometimes called ‘the Fury’.
She was the one responsible for converting the Silesians to Orthodox Christianity.
She is often depicted in icons holding in her hand the church at Budín.

Venerable Petra ‘the Historian’
+998, f.d. 28 December
A learned nun who assisted in the compilation of the Rozprávky z leta dávno preč.
Her life was threatened by Radomír the Terrible.
At first she refused to flee because she did not fear martyrdom, but being obedient to her abbess and to the archbishop
she took shelter, so as not to cause Radomír occasion for sin.

Saint Barbara ‘the Iconographer’
+1000, f.d. 3 December
A holy woman with the gift of prophecy, who dedicated an icon of Saint Eustathios to the Rychnovský royal family.
Several of Saint Barbara’s icons have been credited with working wonders.

Righteous Jakub (Rychnovský), King of Moravia
+1025, f.d. 25 June
Also called James, or ‘the Black Lion’. First Rychnovský king to be glorified by the Moravian Orthodox Church.
Considered a loving father and a model of princely virtues who defended Moravia successfully from the heathen.

Saint Retta Geteye (Yostos) the Mooress
+1039, f.d. 14 July
Also called Nikē in some Greek sources.
A zealous pilgrim from Abyssinia who befriended Queen Dolz, and brought back relics of Saint Cyril to her country to be venerated.
One of the rare Miaphysite saints to be glorified in a Chalcedonian church.

Saint Svätopluk (Mojmírov) of Tekov
+1042, f.d. 20 January
A righteous and loyal nobleman of the Slovak lands, who gave aid and succour to those who served under him.
Considered a saint more for his charitable work in his old age than for his military service.

Saint Čestislava (Pavelková) of Siget
+1073, f.d. 8 June
Uhro-Rusin kňažná of Podkarpatská who was imprisoned and then later released on an oath of fealty by King Eustach of Moravia.
She was sainted on account of her advocating for peace between Eustach and his Orthodox neighbours, and also for her efforts to Christianise the Rus’ under Magyar sway.

Saints Berhanu and Lulit (Sehul), the Moorish Pilgrims
+1073 and +1081, f.d. 12 May
A married couple of pilgrims from Abyssinia who chose to sell all they had at home
and live near the relics of Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius, serving the Church the rest of their lives.
They were the parents of Archbishop Ezana (Sehul) of Moravia.

Saint John ‘the Blind’, Bishop of Prague
+1123, f.d. 22 February
A Neapolitan bishop of the Czechs who travelled and wrote extensively despite his inability to see.
It was said that the Lord guided his steps in the holy places, and that he wrote with his heart rather than his eyes.

Saint Miroslav, Bishop of Nitra
+1142, f.d. 15 July
One of the great theological minds of Moravian Orthodoxy, active during the reign of King Prisnec 1.
Authored several devotional texts which were of great popularity beginning in the fourteenth century.
Famously excommunicated Knieža Vojmil of Nitra during his rebellion against the Moravian crown.

Venerable Milo (Rychnovský) ‘the Recluse’
+1171, f.d. 5 August
Also called Miloboj. Younger brother of King Radomír 2.
Renounced the world and fled into the mountains where he lived as a hermit.
Known for his gentleness of spirit and forgiveness against transgressors.
He was a notable influence on King Bohodar 3.

Venerable Jaroslav (Rychnovský) of Krásny Brod
+1182, f.d. 9 April
Younger brother of King Radomír 2, who later became an abbot.
He was a spiritual father to many monks at Krásny Brod, and was said to have raised up an entire generation of saints in his house of prayer.

Saint Pribina, Bishop of Siget
+1210, f.d. 10 July
A great Moravian bishop and spiritual author who tenderly shepherded the flock of Uhro-Rusins under his care.
As well as having an austere ascetic rule for himself, he gave away all his wealth upon becoming a bishop
and then gave away anything which came to him, to people who needed it most.
He authored two major devotional writings based on the Books of Isaiah and Jeremiah. Many of his homilies touched on the concerns of the poor.

Venerable Rodana (Rychnovská) ‘the Physician’ of Vaucouleurs
+1221, f.d. 15 August
Sister of King Bohodar 3. Letopisár.
She renounced all personal wealth to become a monastic healer, who offered her services to all without asking any repayment (an ‘unmercenary’).
She was responsible for many healing miracles during her life, and her relics continued to work wonders after her death.

Saint Budimír ‘of the Crozier’, Archbishop of Moravia
+ 1221, f.d. 1 November
Most famous for remonstrating physically with King Želimír over his embrace of the neo-Adamite heresy.
Credited with maintaining the Moravian monarchy in the Orthodox faith.

Saint Prokop, Bishop of Břeh
+1223, f.d. 9 March
Silesian bishop who was famed for his generosity.
Served during the reign of King Želimír.

Blessed Sjätopolk (Koceľuk) of Berehovo, Fool-for-Christ
+1245, f.d. 29 September
An Uhro-Rusin nobleman of Berehovo, who had a successful career as a military strategist,
before he gave away all his possessions, chose to subsist only on wild vegetables and lived like a wild man in the Carpathian Mountains,
coming only into the town to partake of the Eucharist. Honoured in all the Russian lands as well as in Moravia.

Saint Spitihnev, Archbishop of Moravia
+1252, f.d. 8 January
Spiritual father and advisor to the great King Kaloján chrabrý.
Stringently ascetic and deeply austere towards himself, but kind and forgiving to others.
He encouraged honour and valour among the družinniki, but also forgiveness and mercy upon the weak.

Great-Martyr Dorotea (Rychnovská) of Utrecht
+1320, f.d. 2 January
Also called Dorothy. Daughter of Bohodar 4., martyred by Frisian Adamites after being taken prisoner.
She appeared after her death during the Battle of Znojmo in 1320, to save the life of King Bohodar 4. who had fallen in the battle.

Saint Bohumil (Lukinič) the Confessor, Bishop of Silesia, and the 594 Silesian martyrs with him
+1368, f.d. 9 December
Orthodox bishop of Silesia during the reign of the Catholic Oleg Rychnovský-Nisa.
During Oleg’s reign, he persecuted the Orthodox Church, which the devout Bohumil resisted.
He was arrested, imprisoned, and ultimately died in prison.
In addition, 594 Orthodox Christians lost their lives under Oleg’s rule and the Latin inquisitions that followed.

Saint Kvetoslava (Rychnovská) of Spíš
+1411, f.d. 19 April
Eldest daughter of Radomír 4. Became a nun upon the death of her husband, the Hrabě of Spíš.
Was famous for her dedicated prayers and deep knowledge of Scripture, as well as for her wondrous works of healing.

Righteous Vojtech (3. Rychnovský), King of Moravia
+1414, f.d. 19 December
The second of the Rychnovský rulers to attain sainthood.
A fair-minded and kind-hearted ruler, his wrongful suffering and death at the hands of a malicious, scheming physician
was largely considered to have been Christlike, even if it was not in odium Fidei.




medieval_malopolskan_saints.png

Three of these saints were causes of the Malopolskan Synod Disputes of the 1600s and 1700s.


Saint Ilia (Aqhazar) the Former Jew of Sadec
+971, f.d. 1 September
Also called Ilık. A Karaite Khazar who sought refuge in Pravoslav’s court, and converted to Orthodoxy.
He was steadfastly loyal to Pravoslav, proved himself in battle, and was granted overlordship of Sadec,
which afterward became the most notable safe haven for Jews in Central Europe. He fell at the battle of Jihlava against the English.

Righteous Koceľ (Kubínský) of Tarnov
+1039, f.d. 13 November
A Lesser Polish nobleman who was famed for his generosity.
He established numerous Orthodox houses of worship in Tarnov and funded many hospitals and wayhouses.

Equal-to-the-Apostles Prince László (Árpád-Temesvár) of Hungary, Enlightener of Poland
+1072, f.d. 8 May
Hungarian king who led a Magyar invasion of Lesser Poland and converted the native Slavs to Christianity.
Widely regarded as a patient and diligent monarch who earnestly enforced justice.

Saint Svätoslava (Aqhazar) of Sadec
+1082, f.d. 7 August
A direct descendant of Saint Ilia, who suffered from demonic possession and numerous illnesses,
who undertook a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre and was healed by touching the ground near where Christ lay.
She devoted her life afterward to the aid of pilgrims, and funded numerous hospitals and hostels along the Jerusalem Road.

Saint Kunhuta (or Cynegund) of Sandomierz
+1096, f.d. 16 August
A Lesser Polish noblewoman, notable for her donations to the poor and to hospitals. Controversial.

Saint Oleg (Tunavský) of Krakóv
+1207, f.d. 13 December
A Lesser Polish nobleman, famous for his fasting and his attention to the prayers of the Church.
Sponsored numerous Orthodox temples throughout Lesser Poland. Controversial.

Venerable Chrysē (or Zlata) of Nitrava
+1260, f.d. 12 March
A common-born female ascetic who lived in Lesser Poland. She adopted the life of a nun after the death of her husband.
She was famous not only for her fasting rule but also for her deep humility and long-suffering, and she was a spiritual mother to many saints in Moravia and Poland.

Righteous Symeon of Lublin
+1444, f.d. 19 March
A Lesser Polish nobleman of Lublin who was renowned for his hospitality, and who undertook a pilgrimage to Constantinople. Controversial.
 
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Act I Chapter One
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ONE.
New Horizons
1 January 1453

eu4_2a.png


eu4_3a.png

Ilse Totilsdotter adjusted her husband’s mantle for the second time, standing in front of the full-length glass with him to make sure that it looked correct and fitting. Kráľ Róbert of Moravia should not make an appearance without making the proper impression, after all – though that was getting a bit more difficult of late. There were wide streaks of grey in his once bright red beard, and his belly was getting wider and flabbier with each passing year. Bertík saw his Swedish wife give him a wry smile over his shoulder, and he caressed the hand that was adjusting his mantle. He knew what that smile meant, just as she knew what the touch he returned her did. The loving old royal couple had long since passed any need for words over such gestures. Bertík knew that his wife had little trust in any of the three estates, and especially not the clergy. However, in him she placed full trust. And Ilse knew that he knew.

‘Well, my job is done,’ Ilse said complacently, returning to her desk and her chair and her second daily full glass of Moravian riesling. Over a substantial sip, she smirked beneath her elfin cheeks: ‘I don’t envy you yours, though. I’m glad I’m not the one to break the bad news to the Stavovské Zhromaždenie.’

Bertík broke into a full grin through his grey-streaked red beard. ‘You s—sure you don’t want to be there yourself for the sh—show?’

Ilse held up one well-kept hand as she took another sip of wine. ‘Oh, no. Oh, no no no. Even if it is the middle of the Christmas feast and I should be used to such boisterous revelry, I’d rather not end up on the receiving end of a flying piece of furniture. I leave that to the man with the hammer.’

‘Thank you much for that,’ Bertík gave a sarcastic nod to his wife. ‘I’m glad to have your full confidence.’

Ilse waved the same hand and smirked into her glass. Róbert broke into a smile once more and grabbed his beloved war-hammer Pazúr before he strode out the door and down the stairs to the feast-hall. Bright white draperies still festooned the hall, and roaring fires and boisterous laughter and carolling quickly met his ears. The Icon of the Nativity still held the place of honour in the hall, before which stood a triple-candle stand. Wreaths and candles still adorned the tables, and the mouthwatering scents of rich savoury meats, finely-aged cheeses, spiced wine and the rich egg-laden bread of the Christmas feast greeted his nose – a welcome change from the sauerkraut and mushrooms and meatless lentil soups of the fast which had come before! As he entered the hall, the boisterous revelry and carolling continued, though it was joined by shouts of ‘Your Majesty!’ and ‘The King in the hall!

Róbert smiled, and strode forward. He rapped Pazúr sharply twice on the table in front of him to get everyone’s attention. When he had it, he gave the greeting:

K—Kristus sa narodíl!

And then came the roaring reply:

Oslávte Ho!

Róbert went on, a bit laboriously as usual when confronted with a large throng of people: ‘We h—h—hope you are all enj—j—joying Our d—delicious feast here in O—O—Olomouc. It has b—been a pleasure to s—see all your f—faces again, that We may g—give g—g—glory t—t—together, Ch—Ch—Czech and S—Slovak as equals, to the newb—n—new—newborn K—King of All!’

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Thankfully, the gathering was still enthusiastic and spirited enough to reply: ‘Hurá! Hurá! Hurá!

‘And n—now,’ Bertík said, ‘We h—have a few w—words We w—would like to sh—sh—share with Our S—S—St—Stavovté Z—Z—Zo—Zhromažd—d—denie.

The high lords, town notables and men of the cloth there gathered, who were all part of the Assembly of the Estates which he was addressing, turned to face him with particular attention, their faces growing a little wary from his sudden shift in tone. The hall grew suddenly hushed, save for a vague ripple of worried murmuring.

‘We h—have g—given the order,’ Róbert told them, ‘that a h—ha—ha—half-tithe of all h—holdings in all M—Moravia, is t—to be given over at—at—at once for Our p—p—personal ow—ownership and use. Ev—even now, Our levies a—are going th—throughout the c—country to c—collect the t—t—titles.’

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WHAT?!’ roared Jaromír Rychnovský-Nisa, the Vojvoda of Slieszko. ‘That is utterly outrageous! You expect us to just hand over our lands to you meekly and without question?’

‘And in the very midst of the Christmas feast, too?’ added the Metropolitan Bishop Ladislav of Olomouc. ‘It’s impious, and thoroughly out of keeping with the season!’

‘You can’t possibly imagine,’ snarled Vojvoda Demid Mikulčick‎ý of Nitra, ‘that such a shameless and naked tyranny and abuse of power will be left unanswered!’

A threatening buzz, like a swarm of hornets taking flight, began to echo throughout the chamber, reverberating against the stone walls. There was a wave of angry gestures and a flurry of activity as the nobles and town worthies of Moravia began to stand in protest. Shouts of ‘tyranny’ and ‘shame’ began to erupt from the long benches. A gnawed-clean ham bone came sailing through the air and struck the edge of the high table. The brow of the bearded king darkened in sudden anger, and the head of Pazúr came down again on the table with a single thunderous crack.

At once, a hush fell over the room. Stammer and trip over his words though he might, no one dared tempt Kráľ Róbert’s wrath too far. The memory of Horislav Velehradský’s painful doom when he had made the fatal mistake of publicly challenging the king in front of his court was still fresh in many minds.

‘It g—grieves Us d—deeply,’ Róbert growled, ‘to have s—such ung—g—grateful, d—disob—b—bedient and unr—ruly subjects! B—but We h—have n—not finished. We have s—s—summoned the Zhromaždenie f—for a c—consultation. Th—the f—funds raised from—from these l—lands, w—will be used to c—complete one un—un—und—undertaking s—s—suggested by the l—lords s—s—secular and religious, and the t—t—townsfolk g—gathered here.’

The buzz came back, but it was a little less threatening and stormy than it had been, as the gathered men talked with each other over whether the king was entitled to do this by right, what it would mean for the realm, and—if such a thing was to be countenanced—what manner of project they ought best to insist upon his completing. Eventually, though, it was Metropolitan Ladislav who, in consultation with the black-robed priests among the company, stepped forward.

‘Your Grace,’ the bishop said, ‘it is still grievous to me and to my fellow clergy here present, that you would do something so heartless as to strip the Church of its lands on the very day when we celebrate the birth of our one true King, who ruleth from Heaven. However, if you must insist upon this course of action, the Church cannot hope to force your hand to stop you, only to sway and to chide, to act as your conscience. In that spirit, I would humbly suggest to Your Grace that the silver you wring from our backs be used to improve the lands around the Cirkev Matky Božej „Životodarnej Jari“ in České Budějovice.’

Róbert nodded sternly to the Metropolitan, then he turned again to the assembled lords and townsfolk.

‘Are th—th—there any obj—j—jections to this p—pr—proposal?’

There was still a dissatisfied mutter around the room, but no one dared to speak up openly against it.

‘Then c—consider your r—request g—granted,’ Róbert said to the Metropolitan. ‘The f—funds from these l—lands will be used to improve the Ch—Church of the M—Mother of God of the L—Life-giving S—Spring.’

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An attendant suddenly came forward, bowed, and beckoned the king to listen. Róbert inclined his ear, and then nodded briskly. He turned back to the assembly in the hall.

‘Ch—Christ is born, ladies and g—gentlemen. I will be with you ag—again shortly, but there is another m—matter I must attend to. Ex—s—s—scuse me.’

He went with the attendant and left the main hall, who were still murmuring their apprehension as he went through the doors and into the corridors of the castle. The attendant led Róbert to a room where a guest was waiting. There he found a slender man with brown hair and stiff, unruly stubble sitting in one of the chairs. Around him were several unframed canvasses, each one bearing an image of a scene from Scripture. Róbert recognised Abraham and Sarah entertaining their three guests; Moses approaching the burning bush in fear; David serenading Saul; Jesus making his triumphant entry into Jerusalem on a donkey, greeted by jubilant crowds waving fronds of palm and spreading their cloaks before him.

But the style of these paintings was not that of traditional iconography. The hues of the flesh were rich and gleaming, the folds of the fabric sumptuous. Instead of the straight parallel lines used to frame a scene in a traditional icon, these paintings used realistic perspective, such as one might find in paintings and frescoes coming out of Neustria or Burgundy or the cities of northern Italy. Róbert knew and understood that there were some within the Church who decried such innovations in painting as worldly, sinful and even heretical… but Róbert himself couldn’t help but admire the craft and skill that went into making them. He appraised them with an appreciative eye.

As usual, his stutter faded and his voice became natural in its cadence when he was faced with one person alone. ‘These are beautiful,’ he admired. ‘I l—love the one of Jerusalem in particular. Placing al-Jabal al-Zaytûn in the background is a nice touch… a reminder of Our Lord’s sorrow even in triumph.’

‘You’ve been to the Holy Land?’ asked the artist in wonder.
Róbert turned his head and favoured him with a raised eyebrow.

‘I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,’ the artist apologised wryly. ‘Silly question.’

‘It was to Antioch, r—rather than Jerusalem, that I went as a pilgrim,’ Róbert mused as he returned his attention lovingly to the paintings. ‘As a leader of soldiers, though—Tripoli, Damascus, Edessa, Nisibis, Mosul, even Jerusalem… I visited them all. Long enough to understand that there are sinners and saints among the Saracens, just as there are among us… I am s—sorry, my good man. Please p—pardon my atrocious manners. May I ask your name?’

‘Radim Reiner, Your Majesty,’ the artist bowed. ‘I’m happy that you appreciate my work.’

‘It isn’t quite t—traditional,’ Róbert told him, ‘but it’s very true to life. The expressions, the gestures… so human.’

Radim shook his head modestly. ‘I was just lucky to have studied with a master in Verona – and at that, not even the best of them. It’s a bold new world out there. New ideas, new horizons, new perspectives. I wanted to be a part of them.’

Róbert smiled. Suddenly he felt a twinge of sadness, looking at these pictures. He and Ilse belonged, truth be told, to the old world – the world of yesterday. The future belonged to his son Vojtech, to his Ruthenian daughter-in-law Predslava, to his grandson Bohodar and to his Belarusian granddaughter-in-law Liusia Óskyldr-Baranovichi. It was they who would live in this bold new world of Radim’s, to do good or ill in it. God willing, they would readily do honour to the Rychnovský name and to the Moravian nation, and not shame them before the blackguards and strutting fools of France, Garderike and Galicia.

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Still, he answered Radim: ‘If it’s n—not too much to ask, would y—you like to stay here awhile, perhaps do some f—frescoes? The s—stipend I’m willing to offer would be g—generous.’

Radim’s back straightened noticeably. ‘I would be delighted, Your Grace, to bring honour to my own country with my art.’

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‘Splendid!’ Róbert grinned. ‘G—glad to have you with us, Radim, and I look forward to seeing your work.’
 
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'Splendid!' Caesar grinned. 'G-glad to have you with us, Revan, and I look forward to seeing your work.'
 
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I enjoyed this chapter! Can't wait to see where the megacampaign goes from here.
 
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Two parts of a mega-campaign going simultaneously is nothing if not ambitious. As I haven't yet caught up with the CK portion, I've decided to save reading the first chapter of this portion – but I'll sign on nevertheless and wish you good luck!
 
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This will no doubt be something great and special. Count me on board.

Cheers!
 
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Act I Chapter Two
Wow! Let me just say, @generalis Julius Caesar, @Cora Giantkiller, @DensleyBlair and @volksmarschall - having you all on board is an immense honour! I shall try to live up to your expectations.

TWO.
The Valiant
9 May 1453


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Mamička.’

Pokoj, pokoj, chlapček môj. It’s late, you need your sleep.’

‘… Can you tell me a bedtime story?’

‘Mama’s tired, zlatko. Maybe tomorrow.’

‘Please?’

‘… Well, alright. What bedtime story would you like?’

‘Tell me about Kaloján chrabrý.’

‘Again? Don’t you get tired of hearing about him?’

‘Never! He was the greatest!’

‘Well, alright then. A short bedtime story about Kaloján.’

The wind blew softly outside the little wooden hut in the mountains. The flickering light of a single candle could be seen in the window in the gathering darkness, as the woman began to tell the story to her young son.

‘Zelimír and Živana had two sons, and many daughters. The elder son was Radomír. Although he had the strength and courage of a great king, what he lacked was a kind heart. He was wicked, and often beat the servants, and even his sisters feared him. And so Zelimír and Živana tried for a second son. They prayed to God every night for another boy-child, and at last they were given one. After he was born, his mother looked down into his face, and saw that he was a truly sweet and beautiful and gentle child. And so she named him—’

‘Kaloján!’

‘… Well, zlatko, Živana named him Ján – after the beautiful disciple whom Jesus loved. And this was enough for her. But little Ján grew up strong and healthy and vigorous, even though he was picked on by the other boys, who thought he looked as pretty as a girl. In particular, Vratislav called him “Sissy-Ján” or “Pretty-Ján”. And this insult, Ján turned into a compliment, and he started calling himself “Pretty-Ján”, or “Kalo-Ján” in Greek.’

‘Tell me about the ride from Brno to Budějovice!’

‘Very well. When he was a boy on the cusp of becoming a man, he went to Brno to be crowned king. But the nobles of the new king were selfish and greedy, and many of them stayed away from the ceremony. When the Knieža of Bohemia raised his flag in rebellion, the boy-king did not even stay to take the crown. But he leapt upon his loyal horse Krvavý Králik, and sprinted with him from Brno all the way to Budějovice. Now, it would take an expert horseman four whole days to make that ride. But Kaloján was no ordinary horseman, and Krvav‎ý Králik was no ordinary horse. When the kingdom came close to ruin, Kaloján made that ride—’

‘In two days!’ said the son enthusiastically.

‘In two days,’ confirmed his mother. ‘As Kaloján set off to Budějovice on the morning of the second day, a splendid rider clad all in white, riding a white horse, came upon him in full mail, and challenged him to a joust – one on one. Kaloján had no helmet, no mail, no shield. Only a footman’s spear with a crack in the haft. And, of course, he had Krvavý Králik!

‘In this deadly combat, Kaloján fought with the white knight for twenty passes. Neither of them could unhorse the other, though both were grazed and bleeding as mid-morning drew nigh. At last, the white knight said to him:

‘“A true king thou art, Pretty-Ján! I cannot defeat thee. I yield, and shall let thee pass. But I rede thee: do thou stay here and rest the space of a breath, for my brother-in-arms lieth in wait for thee, and he hath three times my strength, and though it should cost me my head I would liefer die than cause thee to come to harm.”

‘But Kaloján said—’

Here her son interrupted once more, taking on the bold roust of a Kaloján. ‘“Nay, o White Knight! To Budějovice I am bound, for the law of the Czechs and an end to the war. I shall stop for no man!”’

‘So he did,’ said his mother indulgently. ‘And when he had taken the White Knight’s oath, he rode onward. By noon he met another rider, this one clad all in gold. Fearsome was his mail, and cruel was his helm, and doughty and tall was his yellow horse. Kaloján had never seen the like! And what do you think he did, this young king?’

The son answered his mother: ‘What else? Kaloján fought! Though he had no helmet, no mail, no shield; only a footman’s spear with a crack in the haft. But of course he had Krvavý Králik.’

‘Yes, only by now Krvavý Králik was beginning to tire, and bellow, and show his wind. But even so, in this deadly combat, Kaloján fought with the gold knight for forty passes. They raised a clashing and a din so loud that the crows took to flight, and three villages away they thought there was a storm brewing. But neither man could unhorse the other, though both were grazed and bleeding as the afternoon wore on. At last, the gold knight said to him:

‘“I misjudged thee, Pretty-Ján! I bethought me thou wast just another courtling in skirts with a glib tongue. But I cannot defeat thee! I yield, and shall let thee pass. But I rede thee: do thou stay here and rest the space of a breath, for my brother-in-arms lieth in wait for thee, and he hath thrice three times my strength, and though it should cost me my head, I would liefer be slain than cause thee grief.”

‘But Kaloján said—’

‘“Nay, o Golden Knight!”’ said the son with gusto. ‘“To Budějovice I am bound, for the law of the Czechs and the end of the war, and I shall stop for no man!”’

‘And that was truth,’ said his mother. ‘And so on he rode. And the sun sank low in the sky before him. As he was almost to Budějovice, he bethought him he saw a shadow among the trees. Soon he saw it was no shadow, but the form of a man on horseback. But what a brute he was! Black was his helmet, black was his mail, black was his shield and lance. Black was his horse, and eighteen hands high! Kaloján had never seen the like in all his life. Not one word did the black knight give to challenge him, but rode straight at him like a crow in flight. But what do you think the young king did?’

‘Why, of course he fought!’

‘Fight he did. Harder than he had fought any fight in his life. Though he had no helmet, no mail, no shield, and only a footman’s spear with a crack in the haft. But he had Krvavý Králik! By now, though, his horse was sweating a froth, and bellowing at the sides, winded and tired and near to falling over. Even so, Kaloján fought with the Black Knight for sixty passes that evening. Eagles took flight in alarm. The earth shook and trembled. Ten villages away they heard the crashing and the clangour and thought that doomsday was at hand. The two of them fought until both were wounded and bleeding and panting, until at last the Black Knight flung down his lance.

‘“O TRUE KING PRETTY-JÁN,” he rumbled, “TODAY THOU HAST BESTED MY YOUNGEST BROTHER, GARBED IN WHITE. THOU HAST BESTED MY MIDDLE BROTHER, GARBED IN GOLD. AND NOW THOU HAST BESTED ME. I SWEAR MY SOLEMN OATH TO YOU, TO FIGHT FOR YOU AND NO OTHER TILL THE DAY I DIE. I KNOW THOU ART BOUND FOR BUDĔJOVICE BY SUNDOWN, AND I SHALL NOT TRY TO STOP THEE. ONLY LET ME TEND TO THY HORSE, RUB IT DOWN AND WATER IT, THAT IT MAY BEAR THEE SAFELY THE REST OF THE WAY.”’

(Her son giggled at her attempt to mimic the rumbling voice of the Black Knight, and she laughed along with him.)

‘And Kaloján saw indeed that his horse was tired, for it had done feats of speed and bravery that no horse had ever done before. And so he handed Krvavý Králik over to the Black Knight, who was good to his word, and returned the horse to Kaloján with a second wind in his belly.’

‘And Kaloján rode to the castle, and seized it in a day, and flung the traitorous castellan down from the battlements!’ exclaimed her son.

‘So he did,’ said his mother. ‘But that is another tale.’

‘… Is Kaloján still alive, mamička?’

‘Some say he died,’ his mother answered. ‘Others say that when he was old, he climbed up to Mount Gerlach in the Tatry, and entered a cave there. He placed his sword across his knees, and as he did so, his body turned all to gneiss, and became one with the mountain. And there he rests, until the day when the Moravian realm needs him most – and the old storyteller who taught me said that when the black capercailzie takes wing, and flies over the peak of Mount Gerlach, that is the sign that Kaloján chrabrý is about to descend, for the Orthodox faith and for Moravia’s salvation.’

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Act I Chapter Three
THREE.
Nordgau and Luleå
9 May 1453

On the same night as a certain woman in a Slovak village in Trencin was entertaining her young son with bedtime stories about the valiant King Kaloján, two embassies arrived at the courtyard of the castle in Olomouc. One of them, a blond man with blue eyes and a square jaw, calmly regarded the other, who had a weatherbeaten face with dark eyes and a dark beard. Their dress was as different as their features. The blond man wore a green tunic, hose and cap which was common among the Austrian and Bavarian Bürger. The darker-browed man had on him leather boots, and a deep blue overshirt, embroidered with points of vibrant red and yellow and green. The darker man gave a smile and a nod to his fellow, who curtly nodded back as they strode inside.

They were both conducted to Róbert Rychnovský’s audience hall, and instructed to take off their caps and kneel before the Kráľ of the Moravian Lands. They did as they were bidden, and when the king came out, his chancellor introduced them.

‘Lord King: I present to you Friedrich Erlbach of Bavaria, and Uvllá Jokssi of Julevädno.’

‘P—pleasure to meet you, g—gentlemen,’ the king spoke. ‘Friedrich. You may rise first. S—speak your business.’

Friedrich stood, cap in hand, and spoke plainly.

‘In God’s name I greet you, o Lord King of Moravia,’ spoke the German, ‘and offer you the firm friendship and goodwill of your Bavarian neighbours to the south. We are always grateful for the opportunity to speak with our Slavic cousins, to whom we owe a great debt of gratitude for guiding us to the true Faith and away from the vile clutches of heresy…’

Róbert was a little bit annoyed by this punctilious prepared greeting, even though it was at all points correct and courtly. ‘Good man, the hour is l—late. Please, g—get to the point.’

Friedrich shrugged coolly. ‘Suffice it to say, then, that the issue of Nordgau’s overlordship has again surfaced. Though our realms are alike in dignity – Bayern being larger in fact than the March – those of us who swore loyalty to von Tann are still subject on fairly harsh terms to the Waßerburg-Rothenburg estate. Good Bavarians – your kindred in Christ and brothers in the Orthodox Faith – are suffering under a double corvée, a double levy, double tax dues. Surely you can see the injustice in this?’

‘Th—that I can,’ Róbert replied. ‘But wh—what is it that you wish me to do? Surely this is a matter for the von Tanns’ court?’

‘In ordinary times, lord King, it would be,’ Friedrich replied. ‘But these are not ordinary times. The von Tann inheritance is disputed, and the Waßerburg-Rothenburgs are taking full advantage. Soon there will be an uprising against the lords of the Bohemian March, of that I am in little doubt. I only wish to be assured of your Majesty’s support, should such an event happen.’

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Róbert Rychnovský shook his head. ‘I am sorry; I’m af—fraid I cannot assist you there. If it c—comes to an arbitration of duties, I will g—gladly stand your advocate at law, as is fair. But to a—ask me to support an uprising is a s—step too far. I’m sure that you can understand the pr—precedent such a stance would create?’

Friedrich bowed curtly. ‘I understand, your Majesty. But I confess I am somewhat disappointed. I had not expected such timidity from a man of your reputation.’

Róbert thumped the butt of Pazúr on the floor beneath his seat, and a frown crossed his brow at the Bavarian messenger’s insolence. ‘Th—that will do, sir. You have your answer. You are dismissed.’

Friedrich gave another bow, turned on his heel, and left. Róbert turned to Uvllá, who had a rather glum and resigned expression on his face, as if he expected his own petition to meet with a similarly curt dismissal.

‘And what is your b—business, good man?’ asked the king, a bit grumpily.

The Sámi messenger bowed deeply before the king, his cap still in his hand, and began. ‘I come with an offer, your Majesty. I know your time is valuable, so I will be brief. The headman of our siida, Athanasios Orvarsson Gautske-Halmstad, wishes to marry his son Haukr to your granddaughter Dušana of the Golden Braids.’

Róbert raised his brows.

~~~​

Here, the reader must understand a rather awkward piece of Moravian history.

In the year 1269, a certain woman named Salōmē Lampsiōtēs died of a heart attack in her tent on the shores of Lake Tuoppajärvi.

Her premature death, though of course regrettable, would not have caused such a massive headache for multiple generations of Moravian kings, had it not been for the fact that Lady Salōmē, despite her considerable physical attractiveness and marriage to a prominent reindeer-herder and siida headman named Èoavvá, had had the most distressing lack of foresight and consideration to have gone and had a heart attack while the two of them were still childless. And her nearest living male relation – her second cousin Ruslav Lampsiōtēs – also happened to be hrabě of Litoměřice in northern Bohemia.

And so, the Bohemian-Greek Ruslav Lampsiōtēs wound up in the rather awkward position of having possession of a sizeable reindeer herd on the shores of Lake Tuoppajärvi, as well as a significant collection of Sámi second cousins and in-laws who treated him as their new headman. And the Rychnovský family – in particular the Rychnovský-Žič cadet branch – found themselves overnight the most sought-after eligible bachelors among mothers and daughters in Sámi encampments. (This is how one finds Rychnovskýs with names like Gáktu, Ásllat and Juoksáhkká.)

Two hundred years later, the Rychnovský kings were still trying to find ways to convince their Bohemian vassals to divest themselves from a poorly-defended territory all the way on the other side of Garderike. But instead of that happening, all of a sudden in 1453, the combined legal authorities of Sápmi, Garderike and Bjarmaland had all somehow conspired to recognise the kings of Moravia as the sovereigns over not just Lake Tuoppajärvi and its environs, but over the entirety of Vienan Karjala.

As an interesting side note of linguistic history, 1453 is also the year that the loanword ‘перкеле’ first appears in Middle Moravian source texts.

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~~~​

Róbert, of course, was painfully aware of all this history. He rather had to be. And he was also unduly aware of the significant strategic locations of Athanasios Orvarsson’s holdings and fisheries in Julevädno, which lay at Luleå on the far northern end of the Gulf of Bothnia. A port, in point of fact, which was not nearly so awkward for Moravia’s paltry fleet of fishing ships and such as the current Bohemian-controlled port at Kuzema. Róbert was thinking that if he could at least get basing rights at Luleå, he wouldn’t have to pay upkeep and tolls, and risk depredations by the East Geats every time he wanted bring his soldiers into a friendly port.

And so, stunning Uvllá, his chancellor, and indeed himself, Róbert Rychnovský replied to him:

‘An e—excellent idea. H—how old is H—Haukr now?’

‘He is not yet ten years, your Grace,’ Uvllá managed, after collecting his composure again.

‘Then stay, will you, and let us m—make the arrangements for when he t—turns sixteen,’ the King of Moravia told Uvllá. ‘He m—may come here himself, and w—welcome, to claim Dušana of the Golden Braids for his bride.’

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The Sámi messenger, who had not expected such a precipitous and indeed gracious favourable reply to the offer from his headman, bowed gratefully and with deep respect. And indeed he did stay on several days after, to hammer out the betrothal agreement between Haukr and Dušana.

It was not long at all, however, before Bayern went ahead anyway with its rebellion, and declared war on the lords of Nordgau with their legitimate grievances. The King of Moravia had officially denounced the rebels, but his denunciation was purely formal; he did send support to the rebels under the table with war subsidies, and even pressed a land-rights claim against Nordgau not five months later as a form of indirect support. That had been the most he felt he could rightly do there.

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Interlude One
Interlude I.
University of Saint Michael the Archangel, Olomouc
Present day


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Živana turned around as she felt a tap on her shoulder. She saw there facing her Cecilia Bedyrová, her round face flushed with excitement. She was a touch out of breath, as though she had come up behind Živana at a run.

‘You signed up for Dr Weissfeld’s class too?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ Živana grinned. ‘When that many upperclassmen recommend it, you really can’t turn it down, can you?’

‘Do you believe the rumours?’ asked Cecilia in a whisper.

‘What, that he’s tough? Sure. I don’t remember anyone getting above a 2.0 in his class. And some of the senior boys say he flunked them with a 5.0.’

‘Not those rumours, dummy,’ Cecilia gave her friend a clout and lowered her voice yet further. ‘I mean the… other rumours. Where do you think a professor like that got a black 603? The only people who drive those are ŠtB agents!’

True enough, Živana had seen Dr Weissfeld’s car. Despite being black, it did rather stand out. It was obvious how much love the professor lavished on the sleek, chrome-plated, immaculately-kept classic 60s jalopy that was parked outside the history building at Saint Michael’s. And it was true that the Tatra 603 had long been a favourite among secret police and other high government officials. But Živana wasn’t sure she entirely bought the rumours about Weissfeld having been a secret policeman.

The two of them entered the seminar room together and took their seats, slinging their bookbags over the backs of their chairs. There were already thirteen other students in the class, and from their appearance it seemed they were anticipating their professor as much as Cecilia had been. There was a plate of palacinky on the table by the door, that looked fresh and smelled delicious – but no one had taken any yet, it seemed.

It wasn’t long before the man himself arrived. In a word: frumpy could be the word used to describe Professor Weissfeld. His frizzy hair, grizzled black and grey, was matched by a pair of thick, bushy brows and a rough goatee of the same hue. He wore a long jacket of an indeterminate colour and pants and a button-down to match, round spectacles that sat low on his bulbous and slightly-aquiline nose, and he carried a black leather briefcase which he set down on his desk. He then looked up with a sudden jerk of the head, took a long thin metal pen—or what looked like one—and began running it on its edge along the top and sides of the windows, then pointed it around the room.

One boy raised his hand nervously. ‘What are you checking for?’

‘Nothing,’ Dr Weissfeld grumbled. ‘Nothing to concern you, anyway. Just… some people have long memories; can never be too careful. At any rate, welcome… to History 625.’

The Consolidation of the Moravian State
1468 – 1751

Such were the words that were already written on the whiteboard.

‘I am, of course, your professor, Viktor Doubnich Weissfeld. You can call me Viki. And, fair warning: any jokes at my expense about either Wikipedia or Rakuten will result in an immediate 5.0.’

There was an exchange of glances through the room and a couple of nervous, stifled titters.

‘That was a joke,’ he clarified. ‘You are permitted to laugh in this class. Occasionally.’ He turned his head a thought away from the whiteboard as he continued to write on it. ‘If I’m in a good mood. As you can see—the theme of this class is the foundation of the modern nation-state of Moravia, prior to the revolutions of the 1750s. Quick show of hands: how many of you have taken Ed’s Medieval class?’

Živana and Cecilia raised their hands. So did Ľubomir, reluctantly, and Ladoslav. So did a couple of other upperclassmen seated around the room.

‘Mphm,’ Viktor harrumphed. ‘Well. And what was the theme of his class? Yes—you with the red hair.’

Živana lowered her hand. ‘It was largely about the two Moravias: one in Olomouc which faced east but expanded west, and one in Velehrad which faced westward. A big chunk of it was about the power struggle between the Rychnovský family and the Mojmírovci, which lasted until about the 1380s.’

‘Ah, Ed,’ Viktor chuckled. ‘Still teaching your “Great Men” and that doddering long-mouthed old Icelandic reactionary Carlyle, are you? Well, at least one of your students was paying attention. Hm, true. Up until Radomír the Fourth’s… insistent invitation to Duchess Ctislava Mikulčíková to take an early retirement to a garden-level studio apartment in Olomouc Castle in 1381, the Middle Ages were about military families and patronage and personalities, and the Rychnovských and the Mojmírovci were the two big names… though you also had the occasional Přemyslov, Bijelahrvatskić, Balgarsko or Koceľak nudging their way in. And oh, ho, those court intrigues could get downright nasty. Do you know there was a rumour that Bohodar the Second was behind a successful plot to poison his own grandson with sugared apricots? As a result, it’s still a custom among the old families in Dresden only to offer plain, fresh fruit to guests – no jam, no candied fruit – and let them sample the house’s sugar themselves before they, ah, dose it. Um… palacinky, anyone? Made them myself this morning. Feel free to just, you know, come up and grab one anytime…’

Several of the students exchanged grins as Weissfeld himself took one of the thin rolled-up crepes, bit into it, and passed the plate around invitingly. This was the reason that students took Professor Weissfeld’s class despite no one ever getting a 1.0. His knowledge of historical trivia – particularly when it came to the strange, macabre and unexplained – was unrivalled among the Saint Michael’s faculty.

‘Anyway, personalities – still important in this era – I defy anyone to examine in depth the cutthroat, centuries-long, blood-soaked feud between the Rychnovský main branch and the Rychnovský-Nisa cadets and then claim otherwise. But they do begin to take a back seat. Why?’

A hand shot up. Weissfeld raised one bushy eyebrow.

‘Now let’s not start with the whole teacher’s-pet routine,’ he grumped. ‘I hate it. But—yes? Frilly dress.’

Petra Simkovičová put her hand down, taken a bit aback by the professor’s brusqueness and speaking a bit tepidly as a result. ‘This is when we start to see the beginnings of a shift in material relations. Personal connexions to land, personal fealties to lord become less important than the cash exchange, the written contract, the charter. You start seeing the rise of the bourgeoisie as a class, to replace the landed aristocracy.’

Weissfeld was nonplussed. ‘Right, right. That’s the Theory. Good little komsomolka. But since my Party card likely outdates your conception by a good decade or so, let’s assume that we’re both in good standing and try to keep the slogans down to one per class. Deal?’

Petra didn’t know whether to be chastened or amused, but a slight softening at the corners of Weissfeld’s eyes gave her the courage to turn up the corners of her lips. Weissfeld went on.

‘But—yes. Olomouc started becoming more and more important as a political centre. Cities like Prague and Bratislava rose in prominence. Nobility clustered. Bureaucracy entrenched. Moravian traders got rich and powerful in Pest and Wien. Ambitious clerics reformed the Orthodox Church. Marriages between Rychnovský men and Khovansky, Oskyldr-Baranovič and Enikeev women were replaced by formal treaties with Ruthenia… and, later, Ryazan. All driven by economic shifts, formalisation of property rights, rise of the bourgeoisie and so on. This being a history class, the economics are important and we will discuss them here.’

Weissfeld moved around the corner of his desk and opened his briefcase. The students in the class who were nearest him leaned forward to try and sneak a peek inside.

‘Ah, ah! No! Noses out!’ Weissfeld scolded them. ‘I swear, it’s like dealing with three-year-olds when you’re opening the cookie jar…’

Then, Weissfeld removed an object, which – some students were a little crestfallen to observe – was quite small and fit neatly into the palm of his hand.

‘Now, when we speak of Róbert Rychnovský—AJP Taylor was an excellent historian, but I refuse to use his cutesy little “Robin” nickname—what is the one iconic thing which appears in all of his portraits?’

‘His war-hammer Pazúr,’ Dalibor offered.

Viktor chuckled. ‘Ha ha… you would think so. Yes, his hammer is certainly iconic. Named weapons usually are. But it doesn’t accompany him in all of his portraits! Out-of-place in domestic scenes. No… I’m talking about this.’

Viktor held up what he had in his hand for the class to see. It glinted in the light. Again the students leaned forward and the professor simply smiled complacently at their surprise and delight. The bauble, small but compact and solid, was silver and slightly tarnished. The students could see that it was a cross-bottony pendant in the Byzantine style, but it was inlaid with ornate geometric patterns – overlapping eight-point stars, interweaving palm-fronds, crescent and sword motifs – that might easily have belonged on a piece of Islâmic art.

‘The original,’ Viktor clarified. ‘Actually, one of two originals: the other he gave to his wife, Ilse Vasa. These were given to him by the Patriarch of Antioch when he visited the ruins of the Dome Church. Róbert Rychnovský loved Syria. Made four voyages there in his life: two as a pilgrim in peacetime, and two as an ally of Orthodox states at war. Came back to Europe and wrote an impassioned plea – remarkable for its time – for Europeans to respect Arabic and Greek Christians as equals and to embrace religious tolerance and pluralism. Kept this silver pendant around his neck always. There, you can—pass that around. Just, be careful with it, clean your hands and… keep the palacinky away from it, please. Now, why do you think I am showing you this?’

‘To show us you have connexions with the history museum?’ asked one student in the back.

Viktor gave another chuckle. ‘Oh, you have no idea. But no. Yes – blonde, blue blouse?’

Cecilia had raised her hand again. ‘To show us how global-minded Róbert was?’

‘Mm,’ Viktor stroked his goatee. ‘Global-minded. Explain.’

Cecilia cleared her throat. ‘Róbert had a strong interest in other cultures, peaceful exchange, an orientation toward new ideas and art styles.’

‘Hm,’ Viktor gave something which might have been the beginning of a smile. ‘But so did Bohodar slovoľubec. So did Bohodar 3. So did Radomír 4. What set Róbert apart from these ancestors of his? Here’s a hint,’ he told her as the pendant came to her. ‘Look at the obverse.’

Cecilia considered. ‘Is that… a guild-mark?’

‘Venetian,’ Viktor clarified. ‘Gastaldi da puovolo. Bankers’ and silversmiths’ guild. Already active in the thirteenth century and skyrocketing by the fifteenth. Power nearly rivalled the Doge’s.’

‘It’s recycled silver,’ Cecilia marvelled. ‘From the growing trade across the Middle Sea. And it ended up in the hands of the Antiochian Church, was recommissioned as a pendant and given to the King of Moravia as a keepsake.’

Viktor took the pendant back and held up the front gravely. ‘A symbol of Róbert’s faith, on one hand.’ He turned it over. ‘A testament to the growing power of trade and hard cash, on the other. A two-sided artefact of a very two-sided age. That—is the major theme of this class.’

It turned out that, despite his gruff manner, Weissfeld did take the trouble to learn all of their names. The palacinky were delicious. And the class was engaging, with Viktor dropping in all manner of historical apocrypha. By the end of the first class, if any of the students had any doubts about signing up for his class, Weissfeld had put them all to rest.
 
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It's always a treat, over the years, to have been around when the "intersplicing" posts came about, and to see that this style of AAR writing is still around today. Keeping the tradition alive! Plus it always adds a nice dimension to the AAR.
 
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Act I Chapter Four
FOUR.
Detvansk‎ý and Khovanský
17 September 1454 – 10 September 1458


I.
17 September 1454 - 28 February 1455

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‘I hate it when you do this. I always have.’

Róbert Rychnovský clasped his wife’s hands between his and squeezed them tenderly. But he would not be dissuaded from his purpose. His trusty Pazúr was already strapped to his back, his armour was on, his helmet and greaves and spurs as well. Zúl-Džanáh was awaiting him in the courtyard – his sabino coat glistening chestnut and white in the early-autumn sunlight, saddle and reins and stirrup already prepared for his trusted rider.

‘I know,’ he replied. ‘But I must.’

‘I know that,’ the Swede smiled sadly. ‘Only tell me that you’ll come back this time too.’

Róbert raised his elderly wife’s hands to his face and kissed each one in turn. ‘I will.’

He turned again to where his horse and his men were awaiting him. Out of habit, Ilse adjusted her husband’s mantle and belts. And then he strode forward, easily mounting his beloved Arabic stallion with the ease and grace of long practice. He lifted his arm with Pazúr in hand, and in response to his sign the cornets behind him sounded with a loud salute. He turned Zúl-Džanáh to face his men – the cavalry company beside him were smartly outfitted and ready to ride. And ride they did: toward the south. Toward the Pannonian Basin. Toward the Carpathian Empire.

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~~~​

The Empire of Carpathia – yclept Kárpátok Birodalma in official documents – had been forged only sixty years before, within his father Vojtech 3.’s lifetime, out of the various Moldavian, Vlach, Bulgarian and Hungarian realms that had lain between Moravia and the Eastern Empire to the south. With the Byzantines and the Moravians having uneasily eyed each other across that anarchic swathe of southeastern Europe, the field was left clear for one man to sweep through on horseback and conquer the whole lot. That man had been a Bulgarian, Marko Sărcerazbivačnik: Marko ‘the Heartbreaker’. Whether he had gotten that byname from the number of women he’d straddled on the bed, or the number of men whose hearts he had gleefully cut from their bodies on the battlefield and on the rack, Róbert never quite managed to learn.

Though Bulgarian by culture, his direct paternal heritage was of the Magyar ruling dynasty of Árpád – and in particular the cadet house Detvanský which had ruled the fragmentary principality of Bihar. And although he had ruled that whole swathe of the Balkans with a fist of iron, upon his death his many grandchildren at once began fighting amongst themselves over control of the Empire he had forged. In his entire rule, the King of Moravia had never once known the Carpathian realm to have been at peace with itself. Having gone through five kings in fifteen years – one slain in battle, one mortally wounded in battle, and two forced to abdicate by factional strife – it seemed Carpathia had found peace at last these eight years.

That peace was short-lived, though this time the threat to it came from outside rather than inside. A long-standing bone of contention between the current dynast of Carpathia Svetoslav Detvanský and the Grand Princess of the Rus’ Rostislava Khovanskaya, was the control over the left bank of the Ingul River. The Rus’ already controlled the right bank, but the left bank had strategic importance as a potential base for ships out to the Black Sea. The tensions between the Carpathian Empire and the Rus’ Principality had been building for the past three years, and they had finally come to a head. By virtue of the marriage of Róbert’s and Ilse’s second son Siloš to Rostislava’s younger sister Ľudmila, the King of the Moravians was obliged to heed the call of the war-horns once again. Although he was old now and could justifiably stay home, Bertík simply couldn’t put up his heels while ordering his men from behind the walls of a castle! He and Zúl-Džanáh belonged alongside them, in the thick of battle, where his presence and his reputation could serve them best.

The army set out well-supplied and in high spirits. All across the western part of the country, peasants and their lords had reported bumper crops of oats, pease, beans, barley, beets, turnips, hops, rapeseed, wine grapes, apples and plums over the past growing season. With that surplus, cattle and swine, sheep and poultry had grown fat and numerous. The army was well awash not only in bread and ale, but choice meats and cheeses and wines. Róbert could not remember the last time he had dined as well as he did on campaign, and he was certain that his captains and soldiers felt the same.

Róbert led his men first down to Neusiedl and occupied it (an occupation sadly short-lived, as the Carpathian army retook it the following February), but then turned back north into his own territory and marched eastward along the Slovak low country from the Danubian lowlands to the eastern flats, before moving again into the lands of the Podkarpatská Rus.

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The company from Olomouc camped on the shallow slope of a mountain, in the polonina: a high meadow normally covered with various grasses and heathers, often used by the locals as pastureland for their sheep – mostly of the soft-woolen cigáj variety. Though now, in the dead of winter, the chilly polonina was covered in a thick blanket of white snow. The local herdsmen were surprised and not entirely happy to see the King and his company taking up residence on their land. They moved to protect their flocks in their winter byres from the depredations of the soldiers, although Róbert kept a tight rein and would not permit plunder. Those who tried it were flogged severely before making restitution to the wronged locals.

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It was several days later, on the twenty-third of January, that Róbert’s company had its first action of the Ruthenian war over Nikolaev. A leaderless contingent of two thousand foot soldiers wandered over the border onto the Moravian side of Maramoroš. The Moravian army quickly decamped and descended from the polonina into a small riparian valley, and caught the Carpathian troops just as they had finished fording.

The battle was quick and decisive. Although the mixed Hungarian-Bulgarian forces fought bravely to start with, they quickly realised that their numbers were inferior, their position was untenable and that they were surrounded. The unit commanders quickly surrendered without condition, and yielded themselves to imprisonment.

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‘Well-fought!’ the Ruthenian envoy from Knyaginya Rostislava congratulated Róbert afterward.

‘It was n—nothing,’ Róbert said modestly. ‘The real action is y—yet to come.’

‘And yet,’ said the envoy, ‘you continue to aid us even though you stand little to gain from our fight. Orthodox Slavic brothers in Christ, nearer than blood—so have the Moravian people always been to the Rus’. And I hope that you understand we are grateful and in your debt.’

Róbert smiled beneath his once-red beard. He wasn’t nearly as susceptible to such fine and insinuating words from the Lady of Ruthenia as his Rus’-loving great-grandfather Radomír 4. had been, but he wasn’t about to turn down such a compliment either. ‘You honour us. Yet y—you will find the word of Moravia to be silver to you. We shall not b—back down from what we promise.’

‘You have our Knyaginya’s gratitude,’ the envoy insisted. ‘And she will do all in her power to further your good name among both your friends and your enemies in the future.’

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‘One might suspect,’ said Viktór, one of the unit commanders who had been present for the interview, after the envoy had left, ‘that the good Lady of the Rus’ rather suspects the opposite of us, and thinks us likely to renege.’

‘Tsk,’ Róbert answered. ‘L—let her think wh—what she likes. I know well enough that b—blood is thicker than water, and she would d—do the same if our land were in danger. The important thing for us is to k—keep to our word.’

However, the ill news came from the north that Lake Tuoppajärvi had been seized by the Swedes, and the Rychnovský-Žič headman of the Sápmi in the north had been forced to surrender himself. That was a blow indeed – and insult was added to injury when the embassy of Jovvkuj spoke of the cowardice of the Rychnovský men at a public siida. A response from the south would certainly be due, but given Róbert’s current campaign, that would have to wait.

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I've decided to break this AAR up into three 'acts', similar to the seven 'books' in my CKIII AAR. Take a look at the above for some of the reference points I'm using.
 
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II.
12 May 1456 - 21 November 1456

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At the crossing of the River Jiu, at Balta Verde just south of the town of Craiova, the Moravians engaged the Swedish army. Allies of the Carpathian Emperor, the Swedes of the Baltic coast under the command of Leif Trolle had ridden to Craiova in an attempt to recapture the city. Róbert Rychnovský quickly moved his armies downstream along the Danube and across the Wallachian countryside to catch them.

The elderly king, a diminutive man astride his destrier, nonetheless bravely held Pazúr aloft with the assurance of a commander born. The Moravians saw the legendary war-hammer in the king’s hand and rallied to it with cheer; while the Swedes beheld it with dismay. When the bugles sounded and the horses of the Moravian cavalry cantered across the field to meet the enemy, there was already no question in anyone’s mind as to what the outcome would be.

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Trolle was no fool. He wasn’t about to waste his whole army on a doomed attempt to capture a single city, and so he arranged his lines with the clear intent of gathering for a northward retreat, angling between the river and the city’s west wall. He kept Róbert’s cavalry engaged on his right, so that his rearguard troops would have a free and orderly path to escape northward.

Even so, Róbert made the Swedes sweat for their retreat. Pazúr swung and thundered left and right about him, unhorsing Swedish riders with the skill and grace of long practice. The lance-bearers on his left and right made equally quick work of the right flank that Trolle had sent out to guard his exit, and the Moravians nipped at the heels of the retreating infantry even then. When all was said and done, Leif Trolle had lost more than half of his cavalry and over two thousand of his infantry.

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~~~​

‘Are you sure we can trust her?’

‘The Kráľ trusts her implicitly. Why shouldn’t we?’

‘Well, she’s a Swede. And aren’t we at war with the Swedes now? Who’s to say she won’t advocate for the interests of her kin rather than for our king?’

Such were the whispers that accompanied Ilse Totilsdotter as she managed the affairs of state in her husband’s absence. She took them in stride. For one thing, her position was truly secure: the trust that she enjoyed with Róbert was absolute and complete. For another thing, they needn’t have worried about where her kin loyalties lay. Ilse’s forebears hailed from Sjælland, and her late father Totil Vasa had long been an enemy of the ruling Sture house of the Swedes.

Ilse sat at her desk, nursing a cup of Moravian Riesling (her third today), when a minister from the Stavovské Zhromaždenie came into her chamber. There was behind him a man with a neatly-trimmed blond beard and a long straight nose. Although she did not recognise the man himself, she certainly did recognise the heraldic device of her husband’s distant estranged kin, the cadet house of Rychnovský-Nisa. The man approached the queen’s desk proudly.

Dáma Kráľovna,’ the minister came forward, cap in hand, ‘I present to you Jaropluk Rychnovský-Nisa from the kingdom of Galich-Volyn.’

‘Come forward, Jaropluk,’ said the queen. ‘What business have you with us?’

‘Lady Moravia,’ the blond-bearded man addressed her haughtily, ‘these incursions from your realm into Velyun’ are utterly intolerable. On behalf of all of Galich-Volyn, I demand that you withdraw all of your boundary markers to their status as we agreed in the settlement of 1420!’

The queen looked over the emissary curiously. ‘How old are you, sir?’

‘I am thirty-seven, Lady.’

‘So back then, Jaropluk, you would still have been in a nursery cradle. On the other hand, I may be an old woman now, but there is nothing wrong with my memory. I remember the settlement of 1420 quite well, for I attended the treaty with the Rychnovský-Nisa in person. That particular settlement was made, as I recall, between Jaromír, Vojvoda of Slieszko, and your master. And the border markers were settled in Silesian court during its 1421 session. On the Moravian side, we have not removed them or changed their positions since then. Why in God’s name would we?’

‘I do not know, Lady,’ said Jaropluk, ‘but we have proof of your treachery. These maps—’ he grabbed two scrolls of parchment and flung them on the desk before the queen, ‘demonstrate quite clearly that you’ve been engaging in flagrant land-grabs across our borders for the past thirty years! You will withdraw those markers, or we shall withdraw them for you.’

‘I see,’ remarked Ilse icily, unfurling one of the maps. ‘And on whose authority, may I ask, were these maps drawn up? Who were the surveyors? Who were the cartographers? Have you made any attempt at all to confer with the Silesian townsmen and bowers themselves about the position of these stones?’

Jaropluk’s mouth worked soundlessly in outrage over the queen’s questions. The queen glared at him, smouldering with righteous anger. She flung the maps back at him.

‘Take these idle scribblings out of my sight, pettifogger. Do not presume to think that you can pull one over on me simply because I’m a woman. If you wish to contest the current borders, you may do so properly when the Silesian court is next in session—or on the battlefield. I’m sure that we would be happy to oblige you then, either way. You are dismissed.’

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‘You haven’t heard the last of this, madam.’ The proud Galician turned on his heel and marched out of the queen’s study.

‘Well,’ the old woman sighed. ‘Was there any other business, Minister?’

‘A delegation from the townsmen of Olomouc, Praha and Prešporok, Dáma Kráľovna.’

‘Bid them enter.’

A trio of well-appointed, well-fed burgesses – presumably the provosts from the three towns in question – appeared before the Queen. The moustachioed, double-chinned man whose hems bore the patterned trim of Olomouc stepped forward to speak for them all.

‘Milady Queen,’ the man bowed deeply, ‘my name is Michal Lutinský, head of the Weavers’ Guild here in Olomouc. With me are Ján Kováč of the Righteous Brotherhood of Smiths in Prešporok, and Rychard Bočan the Physician of Praha. We are here to present a petition from the good upstanding notables of your cities, who wish to have assurances of a more equitable representation in the Zhromaždenie, or else of a guaranteed position among your husband’s cabinet of advisors. As it stands, the good people of the towns can only hope for the advancement of our interests through marriage with the lower gentry, or else through a patron among the higher nobility… who are not always sympathetic to us.’

The herald at the door gave a studied look of disdain at the townsmen behind their backs. It was clear where he stood on the issue, at any rate. Queen Ilse smiled.

‘Good townsfolk, I am not unsympathetic to your petition. Send forward a list of candidates for the position of šafár in the royal household—that has been vacant for some time now—and I shall see what recommendations I can make to His Majesty for an arrangement.’

‘Thank you, Lady Queen,’ Michal Lutinský bowed, with the other two hastily following him. ‘That is all we ask.’

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~~~

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It was somewhat unfortunate for the people of Praha that Rychard Bočan had chosen to absent himself from the city during the time of war, when his services were most needed. The Prussians had joined the Swedes to aid the Carpathians, and their general Bajoras von Schwerin was now laying siege to the town. Praha was quickly flooded with families fleeing the burning and pillage in the countryside – and with quarters and food quickly becoming scarce, disease followed not far behind them. They could very well have used a good physician. Instead, however, they received a king.

Róbert Rychnovský had marched northwest toward the beleaguered city at speed, though not before his infantry had been equipped with the long Spieß and trained in their use by a hired Burgundian drillmaster. The tactics of the Spieß had long been abandoned owing to their vulnerability to bow and crossbow, but travelling in tight blocks and swiftly obeying orders on the snare went a long way toward alleviating this vulnerability.

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He had a chance to see these new pike blocks in action when he engaged the Prussians outside the walls of Praha. The swift action and manœuvres of the pike block stymied the Prussian cavalry – and utterly wiped them out as horses and riders were caught among the push of long barbs, not having expected the tight discipline that the Moravian Spieß-bearers demonstrated in the face of a charge. And the Baltic footmen fared little better. Their weapons lacked the reach of the Moravian pikes, and wherever they approached the quick-moving pike blocks they were ruthlessly skewered.

‘Ho!’ Róbert Rychnovský roared in triumph astride his trusty Zúl-Džanáh, waving Pazúr aloft. ‘Give chase!’

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The Moravian pikemen plunged forward after the retreating Prussians, just as the Swedes under Leif Trolle appeared on the field—hoping, no doubt, to reinforce the Prussians who had just suffered defeat. They had arrived too late to help, and tarried too long to flee. This time, Trolle could not issue commands fast enough to save his men, and the Moravian Spießen cut down fully half of his footmen and almost all of his riders.

Moravia had handed the enemy two humiliating defeats before the day was out, and delivered Praha from its siege. The army could not stay long to help, but the physicians who accompanied the army did the best they could among the Bohemian civilians. Both the Prussians and the Swedes were heading back toward the southeast, and Róbert Rychnovský gave chase as eagerly as a hound on a trail of blood.

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III.
22 February 1457 – 10 September 1458

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The twenty-year-old Bohodar Rychnovský – he who would become Bohodar 5. Rychnovsk‎ý someday when he took the throne – came before Róbert in the wake of the battle at Pest. Although Bohodar was a masterful commander and a superb leader of men, his lack of a beard, liquid dark eyes, round lips and round cheeks still made him look like a child in his grandfather’s eyes.

‘All of the Prussians have surrendered or fled, dedo,’ he said. ‘Bajoras von Schwerin is in our custody. There is no further resistance in the outskirts. Also, the Ruthenians have arrived and have offered to take charge of the siege against the city.’

‘They may have it,’ Róbert allowed generously. It was their war they were fighting, after all. But he noted that his grandson had a certain cheer about him that he couldn’t account for merely from winning the battle. ‘N—news from home?’

Bohodar nodded proudly. ‘Anna’s third birthday just past. Liusia writes that she can dress herself now, and feed herself without a mess.’

‘Ahhh,’ Róbert grew misty-eyed. He remembered when he and Ilse used to exchange letters when he was on campaign. They still did, just much less commonly now. When their eldest son Vojtech – Bohodar’s father – was three years old, Róbert had been on pilgrimage at Antioch. Ilse Totilsdotter had a wickedly scatological sense of humour, and in her correspondence had thought it intimate and romantic to share with her husband all manner of pointedly off-colour jokes and candid details about her sundry bodily functions. Certainly not the sort of thing one shared with one’s fellow-pilgrims! And certainly not the sort of thing either to divulge to his grandson, but it did bring back fond memories. ‘I b—bet you’ll be m—more than happy to g—get home to them, eh?’

Bohodar nodded eloquently. Not all of Róbert’s progeny had been so lucky in their choices of mate. His younger son Siloš’s wife, Lyudmyla Levevna, turned out to be a shameless flirt, schemer and adulteress – and only stayed married to Siloš for the political advantage. But Bohodar’s wife, Liusia Raścislaevna, was a bold, frank, strong and hardworking Polotsk girl, and she had gotten on well with Bohodar from the start. There was no doubt that their little Anna was the first of many to come.

First, however, there was the commitment to the Khovanskýs to honour.

Róbert moved off westward to Sopron, and quickly occupied town and surrounding countryside… but not without cost. Alarmingly, the supply wagons coming from the north stopped for several days before moving again… and to Róbert’s keen military mind, that foreboded money problems. Confirmed when he received a letter from Ilse.

Bertík-Červeník, my brave little songbird,

Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you, my love, and think of your embrace. Please, even when you are on the march, remember always to eat a hearty dinner and get two full sleeps; I want you healthy and alert in mind, so that body and soul, you return safe and sound to me. That is all I have ever wanted.

Yesterday morning was a fine laugh! I let a long ripe one rip in the Great Hall. Silent but deadly! Quite a few people around, too, so the effect was much-noticed, but no one knew it was me. Hm, perhaps I need to cut back on the old rye
starka… At any rate, it’s not just gas-flow problems around here but cash-flow ones too. I had to put in a request for funds from a certain banking-house in Padua. Please bring the war to a successful close soon. The interest rates are… not favourable, but that is an evil not easily avoided.

On the other hand, though, once you have discharged your debt to Rostislava, we may find it easier to raise funds. Traders have grown more competitive and territorial lately, and there have been several offers from some regional itinerants to set up permanent shops on street arcades, not just in Olomouc but in Velehrad, Praha and Prešporok as well.

We have also had some offers from masons and architects in Wien and Köln to come to Olomouc to renovate the wooden kirk here, and perhaps upgrade it to something a bit more in line with Western tastes. I am not endorsing these offers, my love: I know how fond you are of the ancient Eastern styles in all things, and do not want to influence you one way or the other. I am only letting you know that these offers are out there and that, despite being “Greeks in error”, we are considered eligible patrons.

Again, dearest Bertík – please fly swiftly to me. I listen for you every day by my window.

Your doting Ilse


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~~~​

The tide of the fighting shifted northward as Carpathia was progressively occupied by Moravian and Ruthenian garrisons. The focus of attention was the Prussians’ southernmost outpost in Dobrzyń, over which the Moravians quickly established control. Again Róbert used his new Spieß formations to devastating effect when the Prussians attacked from the north. Without von Schwerin in their lead, the disorganised Balts were easily put to flight.

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The military successes of the Moravians under Róbert Rychnovský’s command were readily noticed by the Georgian-Greek Despotēs of Pomerania, Piloteos Anchabadze-Vskhoveli, whose family’s realm had been independent of the Eastern Roman Empire since the 1380s. A shared border with Moravia (for he held Lehnice), a healthy fear of Moravian military might, and a shared loathing of the Prussians to the east all contributed to the offer from him that was forthcoming.

‘Kráľ Róbert Rychnovský,’ the messenger from Szczecin proclaimed, ‘the Anchabadze dynasty has long enjoyed close and warm relations with the Rychnovských, going back to the marriage between King Bohodar 3.’s sister Princess Katarína and Komēs Konstantine Anchabadze of Poznań. In light of these cordial ties, Despotēs Piloteos extends a warm hand of friendship and pledges mutual aid, as brothers-in-arms, between himself and you, should you choose to accept it.’

Róbert looked aside to his eldest grandson. ‘Well? W—what say you to that?’

Bohodar chuckled. ‘Is Pomerania truly offering an alliance with us? Ask them if they’ll allow Hrabě Gáktu’s Sámi fishing fleet use Szczecin as a port of call.’

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‘I am sure,’ the messenger said, ‘that Milord Piloteos will be able to accommodate you on that point.’

‘In that c—case,’ Róbert said jovially, ‘I’m w—willing to t—talk with him if he is.’

~~~​

Although Általános Svetoslav Detvanský had not yet come to a peace with Knyaginya Rostislava Khovanskaya, Róbert Rychnovský felt he had more than ably discharged his obligations to his ally. He met Svetoslav in person at Dobrzyń, where they signed a peace in which the Carpathian monarch agreed to respect Moravia’s current borders and also pay the costs of Moravia’s war effort. The loan that Ilse had taken from the Paduans would be repaid well ahead of schedule.

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Act I Chapter Five
FIVE
From Keminmaa to Kem’
27 January 1460 – 1 January 1464


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Ilse rushed as fast as her elderly body would allow her, down the path from the castle to the town when she heard that her husband was returning. Indeed, there was his curly greying red beard now! He was leading Zúl-Džanáh up toward the castle, and he was alone. The white-haired old woman ran straight to him and put her arms firmly around her husband. Róbert had come back to her indeed, safe and sound. He needed no words to comfort her, nor she to show him her appreciation. They held each other firmly there in the middle of the road for several minutes before passing in through the gate.

Knyaginya Rostislava of the Rus’ had taken the left bank of the Ingul from Carpathia, consolidating her hold over the Euxine coast and the trade routes out to the Eastern Roman Empire. The humiliated Birodalma had been forced, as well, to pay out a large sum of gold to Rus’ as reparations for the war. There were now rumours that Általános Svetoslav was thinking of putting a tax increase upon the bowers of the Pannonian Basin to pay the loss.

Ilse slipped her arm into her the crook of her husband’s shoulder, and accompanied him step for step the rest of the way back up to the castle. Róbert gave his wife a run-down of how the end of the war had gone for them all. In particular he told her how proud he was of young Bohodar, and what a fine commander and king he would make one day. Ilse said nothing back, yet. She was enjoying the sound of her husband’s voice, returned to her at last. She had always found Róbert’s stammer an endearing quirk, though she knew he was comfortable enough around her that he didn’t stutter as much in her presence.

‘Ilse darling,’ Róbert asked her suddenly, ‘after the demobilisation, many of my men took the road to Jílové u Prahy, not even g—going back to their families first. Are the prospects there truly as good as I’m hearing about?’

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‘Better,’ Ilse grinned. ‘I’d not have believed it myself, if the šafár hadn’t shown me a nugget the size of a shield-boss, and as yellow as my hair when I was young. Many young men are leaving their trades, their shops and their homesteads for Jílové these days, looking for easy gold. A lot of that will be flowing toward Olomouc anyway.’

‘Hm. I should m—meet with Ján Kováč and see if we can’t make the standards for weights and specie a bit more rigorous. If we have that much b—bullion floating around it shouldn’t be a problem.’

‘Ahh, my ever-righteous Bertík,’ Ilse pinched her husband’s bearded cheek fondly. ‘The first thing he thinks of when he hears of a gold rush is to stabilise the currency. First come duty and honour and realm.’

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Róbert caught Ilse’s hand and squeezed it gently. ‘That’s why you love me.’

‘That’s why I love you.’

~~~

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‘The army has been exhausted by this war,’ Jaromír Rychnovský-Nisa of Slieszko was explaining to the Stavovské Zhromaždenie. ‘We need fresh recruits, and we need to expand our capacities in the production of arms and munitions. If a third-rate rural power like Carpathia could wear us down as much as they have, think about what a more prosperous power like Gardarike could do!’

‘If we put our trust in princes and sons of men there will be no hope for us—still less if we put our trust in steel and powder,’ grumped Bishop Bedřich of Pardubice. ‘Putting our faith in God is a surer way forward for the Moravian realm; and the churches in the north lands could surely use some renovation.’

‘And how are we going to fund these projects?’ asked Ján Kováč with a thin smile. ‘Building up the army and renovating churches cost money which we currently don’t have. Investing in the Brno guilds will, in time, grant returns to the state which can then be used to bundle provisions or patch up leaky cupolas.’

Róbert held up a hand for silence, massaged his temples, and heaved a sigh before he spoke.

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‘G—gentlemen! Your—your input is all h—h—highly valued. H—however, it is my d—decision in the end, and I ch—choose to inv—invest the money in the—in the guilds of Brno. I—Is the envoy from Julevädno d—downstairs yet?’

‘He is downstairs, milord. He was finishing breakfast twenty minutes ago and should be joining us shortly.’

‘T—tell him to meet me in the audience ch—chamber.’

Kráľ Róbert left the council to join the Julevädno envoy in the audience chamber. When he arrived there he saw the familiar, weather-beaten dark-bearded face of Uvllá, who smiled in recognition of the king. Róbert greeted him happily with a handshake, which was firmly and gladly returned.

‘Uvllá, it has b—been too long!’

‘I could not agree more, your Majesty.’

‘How is H—Haukr?’ he asked.

‘He and Dušana are settled in happily, from what I understand,’ Uvllá shrugged. ‘Dušana is not yet used to our long, cold, dark winters, but Haukr does what he can to keep her happy.’

‘I take it from your b—being here, you are agreeable to our p—proposal?’

Uvllá bowed. ‘Your Majesty is most perceptive. Although the marriage was between a Gautske-Holmstad and a Rychnovský, the current Svinhufvud siida from the town of Keminmaa, Margareta, is more than eager to renew the ties between Julevädno and Moravia… and to solemnise them with a treaty of friendship and mutual defence.’

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‘Excellent!’ Róbert clasped Uvllá by the shoulders. Already he could smell the freshly-planed pine planks, the tar and the clean bright sheets of canvas for a northern Moravian fleet based in Luleå! ‘Let me know what terms Margareta has for us, and I will be happy to meet them, should they be reasonable.’

‘I am sure your Lordship will find them to be so.’

~~~​

The following two years were eventful ones.

The gold rush in Jílové u Prahy could scarcely have been better-timed. The northern Italian banking families, particularly the ones which operated in the Alpine heights of Tirol, had begun taking note of an alarming drain on the continental supply of bullion, which was more and more flowing out of Constantinople on routes east. Practically overnight, the Moravian gold denár and obol, Brno-minted and largely from Jílové stock, found themselves to be hot commodities among bankers from Amsterdam to Florence. Thankfully, after Róbert’s policies of investment, Brno’s household businesses and marketplaces turned out to be robust and more than competent to cover the southern demand for gold coin!

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The costly and humiliating loss of the Ingul to Rus’ had an unfortunate effect. Moravia could not afford Schadenfreude at the misfortunes of their one-time enemy. Within Carpathia itself, the peasantry—whether Bulgarian, Magyar, Vlach or Slovak—had begun to see that the deaths their families had sustained, the war taxes they had been forced to endure, the conscriptions and appropriations by armies on both sides, and now the humiliating reparations they had to pay to Rus’ through their own crops, were amounting to an intolerable burden. They were beginning to do more than just grumble. They began to take up arms. Scattered revolts of stressed and discontented bowers broke out all across the Pannonian Basin.

And Moravia found that a close watch had to be maintained on their long, low, poorly-guarded (and impossible to guard) southern border. Peasant armies from Carpathia would occasionally cross over from the Magyar or Vlach lands into the Slovak lowlands. And they would be remembering keenly that Moravia had played no small part in their current plight, and would not be too picky about where they burnt and raided.

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On the other hand, Margareta Svinhufvud was carefully scrutinising her Moravian ally, and observing the administration of what was then called ‘Moravian Laponia’ (which by now consisted of an area ranging from Lake Tuoppajärvi, through Vienan Karjala, to the eastern port town of Kem’). Once it had been well established to her from her contact with the Sámi living to the east of her that Róbert Rychnovský was warm-hearted, magnanimous and a man of his word, she was all too happy to swear fealty to Moravia and accept Moravian suzerainty over Julevädno. The severnípolitika of Róbert Rychnovský was quickly bearing fruit. A swathe of Moravian control running from Keminmaa to Kem’ was materialising, and a Moravian fleet in the Baltic looked to be more and more of a possibility within reach.

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And then Tirol began a religious war against the Croatians living to their south—who still followed the Adamite heresy, engaging in ritual nudity and coupling without regard for social class or proscriptions against incest. In the name of religious uniformity and of stamping out the vile distortions of Christ’s teachings once and for all, Tirol attacked southward into Carniola. This did not impact Moravia much, although Tirol’s Burgundian allies did put in a formal request to allow their armies to cross Moravian marches to attack Croatia.

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And then came the blackest day of all for Róbert Rychnovský. His beloved wife and steadfast and firm support throughout his reign, Ilse Totilsdotter Vasa, passed from the earthly life at the age of 73. The grief and despondency into which Róbert sank after this event caused many in the Zhromaždenie to lose confidence in the spiritual fitness and sound sense of their elderly ruler… particularly after he decided to break off the military alliance with Lusatia and pursue one instead with the historically-significant but strategically-unimportant independent principality of Věluň.

Moravia was in for a rough transition… and a bloody war that would pit Rychnovský against Rychnovský.

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Act I Chapter Six
SIX
The May Day War
18 August 1464 – 19 February 1469



I.​

The Rus’ Principalities had a long and fractious history, to say the least. Róbert Rychnovský was more aware of this than most, given the close connexions his family had with three of those principalities.

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The country that now called itself Rus’ had grown out of the Principality of Turov in the 1200s. Turov, which had grown in prestige as a centre of monastic piety and learning as a result of Saint Kirill’s tireless ascetic and missionary labours in that town, quickly also became the political centre of gravity for the Rus’ after the decline of Kiev. There was a brief period of unity between the White Rus’ to the north, the Little Rus’ to the south, and the Great Rus’ to the east, which had been achieved under the Oskyldr family (descendants of the Varangian Askold) in Turov. The White Rus’ had remained under the control of the Oskyldr clan. The rest of the Rus’ to the east had come under the control of the Balgarsko dynasty, of which the Khovanský rulers were a cadet branch.

Galicia-Volhynia had grown out of the Cherven Cities, which had been both a massive pagan power and a massive pain in the rear for the Slavicised Khazar Aqhazar family of Sadec during the heyday of their expansion. Although the Cherven Cities under Grand Prince Daniil had been the first of the Rus’ to convert to Orthodoxy under the influence of Moravia, they had continue to bear themselves proudly and overbearingly among their brethren both to the west and to the east. As a result, even after the rule of Galicia had fallen to the Rychnovský-Nisa family, it had been only natural for the Moravian princes after Kaloján chrabrý to seek out defensive alliances against them with the Balgarsko rulers of Ruthenia further east. Relations with the Galician Rus’ themselves, however, had been fraught with border tensions and contests over land and honour.

In addition, a small fragment of the Rus’ had come under the sway of Moravia under King Eustach in the mid-1000s. The Pavelkov family, which ruled a small band of Rus’ from the Carpathians under the leadership of a woman, Alina Pavelková, in the 960s, were subjugated by the Árpád Magyar kingdom. However, the Magyars were busily assimilating to their Slavic neighbours, and so the Rus’ customs of the Pavelkovs were largely left alone. So it remained until the kňažná Čestislava Pavelková was captured alive by King Eustach and forced to swear fealty to him. Radomír 4. had married Ekaterina Svätoplukovná Koceľuk, a daughter of one of these Carpathian Rus’ families descended from Čestislava Pavelková. Despite this long connexion between Moravia and the Carpathian Rus’ through the Pavelkov patrimony, the Bohemian and Moravian nobility still tended to distrust the Carpathian Rusin subjects of the Far East as potentially disloyal—agents of Hungary or of the Carpathian Empire.

Róbert Rychnovský had taken to diplomatically pursuing closer relations with Věluň. This principality, ruled by Budivoj Rychnovský-Nisa, did not actually control the township for which it was named; Věluň was in fact centred on Brassel in Nether Silesia. This ‘adjustment’ was greeted with outrage by the Galician branch of the Rychnovský family, and some significant restructuring to the deployment of Moravia’s diplomatic offices had to follow.

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‘This manipulation will not be allowed to stand, Róbert,’ shouted Jaropluk Rychnovský-Nisa, Galicia’s diplomat, to the diminutive king. ‘Don’t think that your attempt to suborn our kinsman Budivoj in your political games will go unanswered!’

‘Everyth—thing I have done has b—been above board!’ Róbert answered him. ‘No p—political games.’

‘Dare you say that? Dare you say that to our faces?’ Jaropluk reddened. ‘This is a hostile act upon our borders! You are propping up Budivoj in order to undermine the good name and credit of His Majesty, Prince Yurii. Dare you deny it, even now?’

‘I deny it c—completely and utterly!’ Róbert said, roused to anger. ‘If B—Budivoj has s—sought us out, it was only on b—behalf of his own inheritance! Do you d—dare suggest that Yurii hasn’t f—formed designs of his own upon V—Věluň?’

(This wasn’t the whole story—the initiative was indeed Róbert’s—but it did have a grain of truth to it. Budivoj, who had no male issue, had sought to pass Věluň on to his daughter Rodana through her dowry, according to traditional Slavic law. But Yurii, as the head of Budivoj’s house, as well as his agents in the Vojvoda’s court, were pressuring Věluň to adopt the Salic inheritance laws of the East Franks, in order to entail the ducal title upon Yurii 3.’s own sons.)

Jaropluk levelled an accusatory finger at the Moravian king. ‘You’ll regret this, Róbert. You’ve gotten too big for your own good. Someone needs to cut you down to size.’

Róbert (though not a dwarf already a diminutive man, and conscious of it) struck the end of Pazúr against the ground. ‘Enough, Jaropluk. This audience is over.’

Jaropluk Rychnovský-Nisa turned on his heel and stalked out.

‘We haven’t heard the last of him, Father,’ warned Róbert’s son, Vojtech.

‘I r—refuse to be int—t—timidated by Yurii Rychnovský-Nisa!’ Róbert growled. ‘It would be the sh—shame of my fathers!’

The ramifications, when they came, were first economic. The Moravian merchants who did business in Warsaw were rounded up and beaten with horsewhips, and soon found their stalls, goods and cash stores seized by Galician gendarmes. They returned to Olomouc, with the head merchant airing their grievance loudly before the king.

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‘Your Majesty, please! This vengeance falls on our heads because of your words to the Galician ambassador. We are begging you, please do not let us lose our businesses and our families!’

Róbert was a strict man, but he was neither unjust, nor unmoved to pity by the plight of these merchants, who had little at all to do with the diplomatic fallout between Galicia and Moravia. ‘V—very well,’ he answered them. ‘I sh—shall make restitution to you from the state’s c—coffers, though it w—will run the state into d—debt once more.’

After this, Vasilii Koceľuk brought forward two noblemen of Czech extraction. With ceremony, he presented them to his grandfather.

Dedko,’ he told Róbert, ‘these are Ruslav ze Švamberka of Plzeň and Bošek Pilchramb of Brno. Both men are ready to serve you in official capacity as leaders of our army.’

Ruslav came forward with a bow. ‘I, the unworthy Ruslav, swear my everlasting loyalty before Christ our God, to your Majesty and to the Moravian Crown.’

‘I too, the humble Bošek, upon my honour swear by my life and by my death, always to serve the Kingdom of Moravia. May Christ witness my oath.’

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Both men looked quite sharp and prepossessing, and so Róbert accepted both of their oaths with pleasure. One problem that faced him at the present, however, was a distinct lack of funds. The promise that he had given to the merchants formerly working in Warsaw proved costly, and he had to apply to the same Paduan banking families for funds that his wife had done several years before. The funds arrived quite timely, though his wife hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that the rates of interest were not favourable.

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And so, for a second time, Róbert was forced to lay claim to lands currently under disputed ownership. This cost him the good opinion, especially, of the Moravian Orthodox Church. And certain laymen whose zeal for the faith overrode their good sense.

In Bratislava, Orthodox zealots led by a man named Rostislav Veleň managed to arm themselves with pikes and cannon, and lay siege to the city. Róbert swiftly sent both his new generals down to help crush the revolt. Ze Švamberka, leading the Pilsner Army, reached Bratislava first, and began making quick work of the rebels. However, when Pilchramb arrived, it quickly became clear that the two of them worked well together. Ze Švamberka understood implicitly how to order a disciplined line of fire, while Pilchramb—true to his name—was better able to perambulate the field with free-flowing manoeuvres and find points of weakness to exploit in the enemy formation. The zealous rebels may have thought God was on their side, but in truth they didn’t have a prayer.

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The battle did reveal to ze Švamberka, however, that the Spießen worked best when the whole formation wielded weapons of similar weight and reach. He then gave these recommendations to Knieža Vasilii Koceľuk, who ordered all infantry units to adopt the new standard specifications for the Spieß. In order to appease the Church, however, Róbert Rychnovský ended up calling the Stavovské Zhromaždenie, hearing the proposals from the clergy in particular, and then affirming his determination to construct a house of worship in Budějovice.

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And then came the fateful day: the first of May, 1466.

The yellow-bearded Slav upon horseback, crossing the muddy roads that led down from the Silesian mountains into the Moravian plain, came at last to the castle of Olomouc and was ushered inside with great ceremony. He first went to embrace the grizzled, one-eyed Jaromír Rychnovský-Nisa and plant the kiss of brotherhood upon both of his cheeks, for indeed close kin they were. Then Jaromír took Budivoj himself before the king, who similarly greeted him with the kiss due between close kin.

Kráľ Róbert,’ Budivoj said to him, ‘I have come to return to the Moravian roots I sprang forth from.’

‘And you are w—welcome here always,’ Róbert assured him. ‘There is always a p—place for you b—by our hearth.’

‘And I have come to deliver my oath.’

‘There is n—no hurry,’ Róbert patted Budivoj’s shoulders. ‘Come within and t—take your leisure awhile.’

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Budivoj had not gotten far inside the hall before the flash of a blade met Róbert’s eyes from the corner. Elderly he might be, and stammering as always, but he had not lost one whit of his old sharpness. With a deft step he placed his own body between himself and Budivoj just as the assassin—a page from among Jaromír’s retinue—lunged for the fatal strike.

Pazúr sailed up from Róbert’s side and smote the treacherous page across the pate, sending him reeling and bloodied backward. Róbert turned the weapon in his hand and advanced again with blow after blow until the page was lying prone beneath him on the flagstones. He then raised Pazúr one final time and let the sharp head fall.

Róbert turned to face Jaromír, his eyes furiously blazing.

‘I—my Liege, he—he was just hired. I took him in at my cousin Yurii’s urging…!’

So,’ Róbert spat venomously. ‘That c—c—conniver th—thought to attack m—my guest like this? By s—stealth, like a coward? As G—God in Heaven s—sees me, Yurii will pay for this devilry! Galicia… sh—shall be humiliated!’

However, Galician foot soldiers and riders were already on the westward advance: as they had been, as soon as they had heard that Budivoj was travelling to Olomouc to deliver his oath of fealty, renewing Věluň’s status as Moravia’s vassal. Thus began what would come to be called the May Day War between Galicia and Moravia.

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II.

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The Galician advance was swift, crushing and without any sense of the customary restraints of war. The Galicians under Yurii 3. Rychnovský-Nisa, breathing vengeance upon the Moravians, at once took Novy Sadec and vented their rage upon the locals. Villages burned and black smoke filled the skies. Galician riders chased the Sadec residents into the hills, and singled out the Sadec Khazars for particular abuse.

Despite many of their ancestors having converted to Christianity long ago, they were brutally targeted as though they were Jews. The Khazar men of Sadec were dragged from their homes, pelted with rocks, assailed with knives and clubs and dragged alive behind horses, while Khazar women were lashed to trees, stripped, blinded and physically humiliated before being killed. Many of the Sadec residents fled southwest to the fastness at Nové Zámky and Bratislava. ‘May the name of Yurii be accursed forever,’ was upon their lips. The Galicians soon also took Zemplín, and visited similar indignities upon the residents there, while their Italian allies marched against Nové Zámky and lay siege to the town.

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Róbert Rychnovský was not slow to respond. He rode at once mounted upon Zúl-Džanáh, with Pazúr in his hand, and led his armies to the relief of Novy Sadec. Despatching a third of his supply to the relief of the countryside, he then turned back south to Zemplín, where he met the despoiling armies of his vicious cousin in the field.

‘The histories tell us,’ he told his troops as they came to Zemplín, ‘of times before, when we had to defend the Silesians and the men of Sadec, together with the Brothers of the Holy Sepulchre, from the marauding Poles and Chervens! Our father Jakub the Black Lion stood upon the field at Brassel and roared, striking terror into the hearts of the heathen. What the Black Lion did on that day, so now shall your black powder! The roars of our shot shall put this enemy to flight just as Jakub’s roar did! And lifting high the same cross under which the Brothers of the Holy Sepulchre fought—in the sight of God, Moravia shall prevail!

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Róbert deployed his troops broadly, with a long cavalry charge on each flank. However his supply had been drained by the relief to his rear, and causing him to start out slowly onto the field. This proved a costly error. Although Yurii had fewer men and a shorter line of battle, he had the advantage of the terrain and a greater freedom of movement. More importantly: Yurii had reinforcements arriving from Peremyshl, bringing the number of his men up nearly to match Róbert’s.

Gunsmoke and hoarse shouting filled the air as volleys of lead rained back and forth over the field, with horses and their riders making inroads from the sides. For a moment the advantage seemed to be Yurii’s, but then Róbert himself, with Pazúr swinging in his hand, made a gallant charge upon Yurii’s right flank and sent many of the Galicians flying back. In the end, Yurii was forced to call a retreat back into Galician territory, and Róbert was left to clean the field. This most uncivil conflict between kin had left its most recent bitter harvest upon the field of battle. The victory had been a costly one, particularly for the Moravian cavalry.

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The relieving news came from the north: Róbert’s Óskyldr in-laws from White Rus’ had arrived from the north. The detachment from Pinsk had successfully besieged and captured Luts’k, one of Galicia’s key cities in the Volyn region. And the Great Rus’ principality to their east had also sent its troops, laying siege to Warsaw. Eremei Raścislaevič and Rostislava Levevna had come through at last! Evidently the Italians had heard this too, for they withdrew hastily from Nové Zámky once Róbert had turned his attention toward that town.

Then Róbert sent part of his army northward to join the Silesian volunteers, to help them begin occupying Galician territory, starting eastward from Brassel and moving through Věluň and across central Poland. But the bulk of the Moravian pikemen and riders headed westward cross-country. Striking southward across the Šumava into Oberösterreich, the Moravian Army engaged with the northern Italians under General Chrysogone Buonarroti. Here too, the Moravians won the battle, but sustained heavy casualties among the cavalry in particular. The old ways of war were changing quickly indeed, and Róbert was quickly enough finding that relying upon his riders was not always a winning strategy.

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The news from the north, when it reached him, was not altogether good.

‘Lord Kráľ,’ the messenger told him, ‘Plock, which the Silesian volunteers had taken, has been wrested from their grasp—not by the Galicians, but by a rabble of Mazovčané saying they support independence and integration with the Polish principality to the west.’

Róbert rubbed his brows. ‘I wish I could say I was surprised. Leave it to the Poles to take such ready advantage of a crisis.’

‘Shall we ride north to relieve them, sire?’

Róbert stroked his beard and let out a sigh. ‘Yes. Let us. This whole war stems from a defence of Brassel from Galician dominion anyway; we may as well do what we are set to do.’

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~~~​

With the Italians still in the southwest, Róbert left his elder son Vojtech in charge of the court, which for reasons of security was then taking its session in the fortified Bohemian town of Plzeň, and would do so until the following May.

The dark-haired, dark-bearded Princ Vojtech (the eldest of three brothers; Siloš and Bertčík were with their father in the north) possessed of a sinuous and sensuous masculine beauty as well as keen insight, was a formidable warrior, though he had an unfortunate tendency to break formation and pursue even when the situation called for patience and restraint. As a military commander he had been well-suited to the demands of chivalry… but far less so to the tactical demands of pike and cannon. Vojtech and Predslava’s son Bohodar had been raised much the same way.

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Thankfully, Vojtech was a much more able administrator and legal mind, and he had a keen eye for fresh talent. And so it was that when an Eastern Swede came south seeking refuge from Garderike in the middle of this war with Galicia, Vojtech not only took him in, but actually granted him audience.

‘Your Grace,’ the Swede gave a stiff bow, ‘it is good of you to receive me in such condition as this.’

‘Not at all,’ Vojtech averred kindly. ‘We would do the same for any guest.’

The blond man nodded his affirmation, and then stood squarely, jutting out a well-kept beard. ‘My name is Nishkepaz af Jelse, your Grace. I am originally from Garderike to the north of here. I… fell foul of the King. Because I advocated too closely for peaceful relations with the Great Rus’ to our south, my loyalties fell into question and I was forced into exile. Obviously I could not head for Great Rus’, but I am happy to place myself in the hands of a Rus’ ally and offer to you my services as a diplomat.’

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Vojtech exchanged a meaningful look with Bohodar. Vojtech wasn’t the sort of man to turn away a guest, simply because he hated the idea of the poor man not having anywhere to stay for the harsh winter. As a military strategist, as well, Vojtech was well aware of the usefulness and expediency of employing turncoats and informants like Nishkepaz. He turned back to Nishkepaz, with only the slightest trace of a furrow in his brow to show his displeasure.

‘Very well, Nishkepaz. You are welcome to stay here and to attend court, of course. If my father or I ever has any need of you, rest assured we shall call upon you.’

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Nishkepaz clicked his well-mannered heels together, bowed and retired.

‘You don’t intend to make use of him.’ Bohodar was making a statement, not asking a question.

‘Not at the moment, no,’ Vojtech sighed. ‘And I pray God it won’t come to that.’

‘I understand, Father,’ Bohodar gave a dark scowl at the door which Nishkepaz af Jelse had left. ‘I wouldn’t want to make use of him either.’

~~~​

‘Your father did the right thing,’ Liusia told her husband when he came back and told her of their guest. ‘It’s only the proper demand of decency to keep af Jelse here and give him a roof over his head, sure. And the information he has can only be useful to you. But to employ in a government office a man who betrayed his country…’ Liusia shook her head slowly.

Bohodar let out a long breath of relief. He could always count on Liusia to understand him, even the hidden parts of himself he didn’t fully understand.

‘Yes… a man who turned his coat once could easily do the same again. How has Anna been doing of late? Is she still scared to be in a town at war readiness?’

‘Scared?’ Liusia laughed. ‘She’s exhilarated. Takes after you that way, my love. She’s eager to see the drills and the gear, and the placements on the walls. She nearly wore me out today with her explorations.’

‘And she’s sleeping well now.’

‘Yes she is. What? What is it, Bohyaša?’

The young husband traced a caressing finger along his still-young wife’s well-formed jaw and drew her face up toward his. He felt the warm tremor beneath her skin that told him his touch was welcome, and felt the breath which came slowly, enjoyably, out through between her lips. He caught her lower lip with his thumb and stroked it, gently peeling it back away from her teeth.

‘You aren’t… too worn out, I trust?’ Bohodar asked her.

‘Mmmmmh,’ the Belarusian girl breathed. ‘Haven’t quite… made up my mind yet.’

Bohodar leaned down and gave his wife a slow, lingering kiss. ‘This help you?’

Liusia shrugged gently. ‘It might.’

It did.

Twenty minutes and numerous discarded items of clothing later, Liusia ran one yearning hand down his naked flank, and murmured in his ear: ‘Don’t stop now.’

He didn’t.

~~~

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The third large-scale engagement of the May Day War took place very near the actual city of Věluň, for which the Silesian principality centred on Brassel had taken its name. Róbert had withdrawn his troops from the Galician countryside and allowed Yurii to retake the territory in the hopes of drawing him into a pitched battle at a place of his own choosing.

Róbert chose a field close to the village of Byczyna to draw up his infantry line, while keeping his cavalry units – mostly Hungarian lancers and Sadec Khazar horse-archers – in reserve. After having studied his Pyrrhic victories at Zemplín and in Upper Austria across the Šumava, he decided not that the knights shouldn’t be used, but rather that they should be used tactically. Bold cavalry charges might impress and dismay the enemy, but using them from the front was a mistake against tightly-disciplined pike and musket formations: they should be sent on flanking actions.

Yurii 3. Rychnovský-Nisa marched readily on Byczyna, confident of his victory. The pike formations lined up opposite his on the northeastern side and the horsemen set up to make bold charges from the front. Róbert grinned grimly as he observed Yurii’s battle-formation. Evidently the ways of chivalry died hard among the Galicians as well. Today they would die still harder.

As soon as the charge began, Róbert gave the signal to the lancers and horse-archers to move as planned. They spread out from the flanks and aimed a charge around at the rear corners of Yurii’s infantry line… but they spent no time there, instead chasing down Yurii’s engaged hussars from behind.

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Yurii realised too late what was happening. He sounded the horns for a cavalry retreat, but it was too late. The Galician hussars were pinned down amid a general mêlée among the Moravian infantry, making them easy pickings for the Khazar horse-archers, who were all too eager to take revenge for what had happened at Sadec. The Hungarian lancers got their share of the action as well, by cutting off the routes for retreat.

In the end, the victory had still cost Róbert fairly dearly in terms of his infantry—they had less staying power against the hussars than he’d thought they would. But Yurii’s hussars were utterly broken: he had lost nearly half of their number to Róbert’s mixed cavalry action. And being forced to retreat meant that Róbert could continue taking the Galician countryside to the east of him, one castellanship at a time. It was a significant setback to the Galician war effort and a definite blow to the high-flown Galician pride. But Moravia would suffer still worse yet.

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Just read through this and I really like the style of switching back and forth in perspectives. Great writing and characterizations!
 
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