White Rus should be VERY grateful. New bride. Enemy and pretenders fight. New King is off to a good start. Thanks
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Act I Chapter Twenty-Six
TWENTY-SIX.
On Bosnian Breviloquence
4 February 1544 – 10 June 1545
‘You are blessed with a very forgiving wife, môj Kráľ,’ Kancelár Hubert Kozár remarked drily.On Bosnian Breviloquence
4 February 1544 – 10 June 1545
Kráľ Tomáš 2. clutched his head in his hands, groaning. ‘Do I ever know it!’
‘I imagine you already got an earful from her this morning?’
Tomáš grunted in the affirmative.
‘That and a salutary hangover,’ Kozár told him, ‘are things to be thankful to God for, in your situation. I’ll spare you the tongue-lashing I had prepared, and give you some brief personal advice instead. As a man, you’re already doing well, scratching your lady when she lets you know her itch. But it’s generally best you don’t get drunk and start blathering about it where anyone in the court could overhear you.’
‘I know. I know.’
‘In short, daddy-diddle-dotty with the Queen all you and she like… or as much as your soul is willing to confess to the rector. Just, please, do me a favour. Keep it in the bedroom. Spares me the headache of having to hush it all up after. I hope this has been a lesson to you?’
‘Mila’s keeping me to one glass of 1533 a night, none at all on Wednesdays or Fridays, and for three months I come straight to bed after my official business is done.’
‘Clever girl,’ Kozár approved. ‘Far beyond your deserving.’
Tomáš, already well and thoroughly chastened by his act of marital irresponsibility and its resulting aftermath, couldn’t help but agree. However perverse Milomíra’s bed-wants were, Tomáš had been touched that she’d shared them with him. And how had he repaid her trust in his drunkenness? He felt guilty and wretched to his core to think of it.
‘Now, then, to actual business,’ Kozár told the young king, ‘if your head can handle it.’
‘I’ll try…’
‘I’m sure that Štefánik has kept you up to date on the state of our finances.’
‘You mean how much we owe to the Luxembourgers? Yeah.’
‘Well…’ Kozár tugged his beard portentiously, ‘I know all too well that it was war with Bayern that got us that far into debt. But, I beg your Majesty’s patience, I think perhaps another war with Bayern may help us get out.’
‘Explain,’ Tomáš demanded dubiously. His hangover had to be worse than he thought–he must not be hearing Kozár correctly.
‘I mean to. Moravia bore most of the costs of the last war with Bayern, while reaping very few of the rewards. Those accrued to White Rus’. True, the war helped the prestige of our state among the courts of Europe, but it came at a high cost, in lives, in infrastructure, in armaments.’
‘But where does another war with Bayern come in?’
‘Well,’ said Kozár, ‘why do you think we lost so badly on the western front, in the opening months of the war?’
Tomáš shrugged. ‘Poor tactics? Lack of coordination?’
‘Hardly,’ Kozár steepled his fingers. ‘Your Majesty’s šafár, despite his extramarital activities, did everything that could reasonably be expected of him given the information he had. And your Majesty’s general was the sole reason we had an army to resist the Bavarian incursions with. No: it will avail nothing to blame either Štefánik or Kolovrat for the way things turned out early on. We should look rather to my predecessors’ emphasis on a fruitlessly aggressive stance northward, at the expense of a defensive posture westward.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘We share borders with East Francia, Bayern and Austria in the west,’ Kozár said. ‘And apart from noteworthy exceptions like Nové Zámky, these borders’ defences are still in a woeful state. What’s more, there are still a number of little Bayern-aligned statelets–Fojtsko and Kamenica being the two major ones, along with Drježdźany–sitting on those borders.’
‘What is your point?’ asked Tomáš crossly.
‘My point is merely this,’ Hubert Kozár concluded. ‘If we are to have a more secure western posture, and not be overrun like that in future wars, then we need to convert Fojtsko and Kamenica into buffer states. Our buffer states–not Bayern’s. And if we can humiliate Bayern and perhaps break their alliance with Galicia into the bargain… we might not come out the losers after all.’
‘It would mean going further into debt, though.’
Kozár shrugged eloquently. ‘Well. I’ve spoken my piece. You can take it up with Štefánik if you’re concerned with the cost, but I assure you that his advice will be the same as mine.’
~~~
‘This is more than preposterous!’ exclaimed Blahoslav Bosniak in open council. ‘It’s madness! You cannot possibly be serious about these plans!’
‘We’re all serious about these plans,’ Matej Štefánik answered the military engineer.
‘Then you are a pack of damned fools and blackguards!’ shouted Bosniak. ‘We’re hardly done with one bloody, miserable war, and you’re already planning for the next! And for what? For buffer states in the northwest? Oh, yes, I know exactly how Moravia regards its “buffer states”.’
‘Hold your tongue, Bosniak,’ Štefánik growled, ‘someone just might cut it out for you.’
‘Come and take it if you dare,’ Bosniak answered the šafár, ‘I’ll back my words up in steel right now, to the bloody hilt.’
It very nearly did come to blows between Blahoslav Bosniak and Matej Štefánik, but thankfully Kozár’s cooler head prevailed. Unfortunately, Tomáš was also dragged into the conflict. Because Bosniak had shouted his objections and picked a fight in open court in view of the king, there was a case to be made that he’d committed lèse-majesté; and some of the more avid war-hawks in the Zhromaždenie called for the charge to be pressed against him. However, Tomáš held up a hand.
‘I will not take the life or freedom of any good Moravian merely for speaking his mind,’ he told the assembly. ‘If we are to be stronger as a country, we cannot be afraid of men of goodwill speaking the truth, nor can men of goodwill be afraid of speaking the truth lest it meet with punishment.’
But the war went ahead anyway, over Bosniak’s objections. Given that every single part of the Sorb lands had been, at one time or another, part of the Moravian state, and given that both Fojtsko and Kamenica had standing territorial disputes with Moravia, pressing those disputes proved no very difficult hurdle to overcome. And, as expected, Bayern was drawn in on their side.
Zdravomil Krakovští z Kolovrat, having fought the Bavarians for the past six years together, was chosen to lead the Second Army southward into Bayern while the First Army took the northward route in besieging Cvikov nad Muldou in Kamenica. Once again Kolovrat was to face Dietpold Moravitzky in battle–and this time the chosen field of battle was outside Oberpfalz.
Kolovrat nabbed the element of surprise, and struck against Moravitzky’s advance force of six thousand infantry before they had time to prepare themselves. Kolovrat had already mastered the field of battle and was well-prepared by the time Moravitzky himself arrived with the reserve. The Moravians made short work of the remaining Bavarian force.
When Cvikov nad Muldou fell to the Moravians on the tenth of July, 1544, the wholesale Moravian occupation of Kamenica was by that very fact practically a fait accompli. The notables of Kamenica fled southwest in the direction of Vidava, to continue prosecuting the war against Moravia from Fojtsko. However, the First Army pursued them there, and soon Vidava as well was under siege. However, the fighting in the Sorbian lands (such as it was) was only a sideshow to the more substantive engagements in Bayern proper.
Kolovrat kerb-stomped the Bavarians utterly. He occupied every single inch of Bavarian land he could see and held it with unsparing efficiency against any effort Moravitzky might make to reclaim it. Very soon only Landshut was left standing, and that was under the heavy siege of the Second Army. By the end of 1544, it was already clear that Bavaria and the two minor principalities on Moravia’s northwestern border had lost the war decisively.
However, ill news sailed in from the north, beyond the fighting, on the other side of the little jutting finger of East Francian territory that extended all the way up to Moravia’s marches. The lord of Drježdźany, the son of Vyšebor Rychnovský and Tomáš’s closest male relative among the heads of Europe, Swjatopołk 2., passed from the earthly life at the age of 55. He left behind him a teenage son, Rodźisław, to whom the rule over Drježdźany passed.
And the lands over which Rodźisław Rychnovský was to claim rule were about to double, then triple, in size from what his father had ruled.
Bayern came first to talk terms. Fürst Lantfrid 2. von der Tann came to the bargaining table prepared to offer indemnities in lieu of any territorial concessions. Thankfully, neither Tomáš nor anyone in his government was after Bavarian territories: what they wanted instead was a severing of ties between Bayern and Galicia. This was a condition that Tann was willing to meet, even though it almost assuredly meant a dependent relationship on Moravia in the future.
Once Bayern left the war and both Fojtsko and Kamenica were under Moravian arms, bringing both of them to an unconditional surrender did not take long. Moravia exacted another indemnity from Fojtsko for the war, and in addition completely annexed both territories.
And, much as Tomáš hated to admit it: Hubert Kozár and Matej Štefánik were right. Another handy little war against Bayern had indeed solved Moravia’s financial difficulties. The indemnities from Bayern and Kamenica were soon matched by certain opportunities for the use of the newly-annexed territories.
Tomáš 2. sold the titles of overlordship over Cvikov nad Muldou and Kamenica to the newly-crowned Hrabja Rodźisław 2. Rychnovský, and the proceeds from these titles managed to pay off the last of the loans incurred during the White Ruthenian war.
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To trade blood of the common man for money for the state is an old trade in which the Moravians seem proficient.
Those two wars show that the Moravian military is quite good at what it does. Those bait and switch tactics seem pretty effective, I'll try them in my next play through.
Those two wars show that the Moravian military is quite good at what it does. Those bait and switch tactics seem pretty effective, I'll try them in my next play through.
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Act I Chapter Twenty-Seven
TWENTY-SEVEN.
The Protectorate of Kola
1 August 1545 – 8 February 1548
The Protectorate of Kola
1 August 1545 – 8 February 1548
Over the coming years, after the second Bavarian war of his reign, Kráľ Tomáš 2. began to articulate a foreign policy stance that would come to replace the severnípolitika that had been the dream of the past five generations of Moravian kings. Although in the wake of the White Ruthenian War for Minsk, many of the decisions Tomáš had made had aligned with such a policy, still he had yet to give it a name and a direction.
In truth, Tomáš had been stung by Blahoslav Bosniak’s criticisms of the second Bavarian War in open court; a true sign that his criticisms had merit. Moravia’s treatment of the Lesní Slovaks was indeed unconscionable. And Tomáš had long been offended by the cruelties to the Sámi, both subtle and gross, both mild and egregious, that his country had visited upon them. Obviously not everything could be repaid or requited for these national sins, but a basic form of repentance was obviously within grasp.
Upon the accession of Rodźisław 2. Rychnovský to power in Drježdźany, there was a minor revolt against him in Kamenica led by a local noble named Jan Rizo. Tomáš felt obliged to send a relief force to aid his younger cousin, and quickly stamped out the Rizo revolt. (Once again it was shown that whoever controlled Cvikov, controlled Kamenica as well.) But this event again impressed on Tomáš the need to deal fairly with outlying peoples, whether Sorbs or Sámi.
And the idea, of how to concretely achieve this, was obliquely suggested to him when Hubert Kozár came before him with a proposition.
‘Môj Kráľ,’ advised Kozár, ‘as a means of both generating revenue and winning goodwill among the burghers, it would be a wise decision for you to sell off some of the crown titles to the more upstanding among that class.’
Tomáš refused this advice, but it got him thinking. He’d sold–actually all but given–Cvikov nad Muldou to his cousin in the interest of building a strong buffer state between Moravia and the Catholic Germanic powers west. Why couldn’t he do the same in the Northlands? Not to build a buffer state… even to think of Sápmi as any sort of ‘buffer’ for Moravia was risible. But rather, to begin righting a historical wrong. To ‘win goodwill’, as Kozár put it.
‘In Peäccam,’ Tomáš asked one of the city-Sámi functionaries of the diplomatic corps, ‘do you know of any locals of sound sense, good judgement and high character?’
The functionary thought a bit before replying. ‘There is Jeansa son of Jompá, who was just made a rasophore at the monastery up there. Third cousin on my mom’s side. Bit of a prig–stickler for religious duties, if I recall right. But he’s got a good head on his shoulders.’
Tomáš, not being particularly observant himself, dithered a bit. But he commanded: ‘Send for him. Oh, and also send for Governor Havel as well.’
The two men, the monk and the governor, arrived from Sápmi at around the same time, and appeared together before the young king in his private audience-chamber at Olomouc Castle.
‘Governor Maroš Havel,’ the king addressed the slender, moustachioed man, who stepped forward.
‘Yes, Sire?’
‘I have been reviewing documents and reports which have been gathered together throughout your tenure as governor, and that of your predecessor,’ Tomáš began cheerily. ‘It is truly quite astonishing.’
‘I am gratified, Sire. Laponia has indeed been quite profitable under my care.’
‘Allow me to finish,’ Tomáš’s voice took on a sudden and notable chill. ‘What you call “care”, evidently includes some rather… egregious sentencing of Sámi convicted under blasphemy laws. It also, troublingly, includes the impressment of young Sámi men into hard mine labour without prior charge. It includes corporal punishments even for speaking the Sámi languages in the presence of a Moravian. And there are a troubling number of reports of Sámi women who have been shamed by Moravian men and not been given opportunities for legal redress in your courts. If such treatment were visited upon any members of the Five Slavic Peoples of the Moravian motherland, it would be condemned as the vilest of God-hating tyrannies.’
Havel’s face froze in a look of shock at the pronunciation of these abuses. ‘I… I assure you, Your Majesty… there may have been a few… ahh… oversights in the wake of my predecessor’s tenure…’
‘Enough,’ Tomáš hissed forbiddingly. ‘You have had ample time in office to correct any such “oversights” as they appeared to you, and I’m sure more of them appeared to you than they have here to me. You are dismissed from your post. And you are requested and required to take your retirement here in Olomouc. Consider yourself lucky to escape the dungeons, Havel. Now, get out of my sight.’
When Havel had slunk away out of the irate king’s sight, Tomáš then turned to the young Sámi monk at his side with a considerably different attitude. ‘You can have his job,’ the king said.
‘My lord King,’ the monk bowed deeply, ‘I dare not.’
‘Whyever not?’ asked the king. ‘I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to be a better governor of your people than that was.’
‘It is not that I falsely understate my abilities,’ Jeansa told the king. ‘Nor do I have fear of punishment if I should do wrong and justly deserve it. But it would be wrong for me to accept.’
‘Wrong? How?’
‘I have sworn an oath to God,’ said Jeansa. ‘An oath of stability, of chastity, of obedience. I have died to the world, its pleasures and its honours, and I have renounced even my will entirely to my Lord Abbot who is my guarantor before Christ. Though I am grateful to have seen your Majesty’s justice done this day, I cannot accept the offer of office, which would be an intolerable division of my spiritual powers.’
Tomáš grimaced. He had been warned about this by Jeansa’s kinsman. ‘Very well, then. Is there anyone else you would recommend for the office?’
‘I… have an uncle. My father’s younger half-brother,’ Jeansa told the king. ‘His name is Áppo or Áho; in Moravian you might call him Abrahám. We are both named for my grandmother, Magga; in addition, he bears the name of his great-grandfather Saiva. He was not drawn to the monastic life as I was; he’s a family man with a wife and children. But he is a just man and eloquent before the siida: as Governor I doubt he would offend your Majesty.’
~~~
The dismissal of Maroš Havel from his post sent shockwaves through the Praha bourgeoisie. Havel had been, after all, one of their own: a respectable scion of a well-to-do family with various artistic talents. It was difficult for them to stomach the fact that he would essentially live out the rest of his days under house arrest in Olomouc.
But Tomáš did more than appoint a new Governor. He also formally dissolved the governorate of Moravian Laponia and created a new office with jurisdiction over its former territories: that of Lord Protector, a title, seal and symbols of office which he immediately bestowed upon Áho Magga Saiva. Because Áho Magga’s paternal grandfather Saiva was from the siida of Jovvkuj, much further east than Peäccam along the northern coast of the Kola Peninsula, and because he would collect and transfer taxes from thence, the new polity was christened the Kola Protectorate. In local Sámi histories, however, it was called the Protectorate of Jovvkuj: not as a means of belittling it by associating it with that one particular siida, but instead as a kind of affectionate diminutive, a way of partially recognising that polity as ‘one of ours’ rather than ‘one of theirs’.
But the Kola Protectorate had sway over more than just the Peninsula. The territories of Anárjárvi and of Koutajoki were added unto Áho Magga Saiva’s charge. For the time being, only the Lule Sámi remained under direct Moravian state control.
In truth, though, the Kola Protectorate still resembled a Governorate in many ways. Sápmi was still under Moravian control, howbeit more indirectly by degrees. The primary duty of Lord Protector Áho Magga Saiva was still to collect taxes and send them to Olomouc. The rest of his duties could be described as rebuilding the siida mode of governance and reclaiming the old herding and fishing grounds.
The monk Jeansa was given another opportunity to stay in Olomouc, as Tomáš offered him a position as a clerk and as an advisor to the Moravian court. Jeansa demurred once again; but after Abbot Trifon corresponded with him by letter and offered his blessing upon the new position, Jeansa accepted his Abbot’s will and remained in the capital.
Several other administrative changes occurred at roughly the same time. Fojtsko was entrusted to Drježdźany as a crown territory, at the cost of some extra tax money to be paid over the next five years. Tomáš also imposed several tariffs on imported goods as a result of the opening avenues of trade which the consolidation of Drježdźany and the creation of the Kola Protectorate provided.
The bureaucratic innovations inside Moravia, whether born out of Tomáš’s youthful idealism and desire for justice, or out of a slightly more cynical acknowledgement that a thoroughgoing severnípolitika was no longer possible, nonetheless sparked something of a revolution in trade technologies. Moravia wasn’t about to let being once again fully landlocked prevent her from being cut out of world trade; in particular, the burghers of Bratislava and Praha would see to that.
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It's good to see some justice finally given to the Sami. May it not be just youthful idealism but the beginning of systemic change on the treatment of the Sami.
Also, I see Moravia is building a veritable army of vassal buffer states. That's gonna come in useful later I hope.
Also, I see Moravia is building a veritable army of vassal buffer states. That's gonna come in useful later I hope.
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It is hard to be a land-locked trade power. Decentralizing the autonomous regions. thanks
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That was a few quick updates.
Moravia is doing very well, and they now are doing their best to make amends with the Sapmi, which is good.
Also, there's a royal consort that isn't blonde? That's new.
What is this 2 Paralipomenon?
Moravia is doing very well, and they now are doing their best to make amends with the Sapmi, which is good.
Also, there's a royal consort that isn't blonde? That's new.
What is this 2 Paralipomenon?
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2nd Chronicles in the Bible, but what language?That was a few quick updates.
Moravia is doing very well, and they now are doing their best to make amends with the Sapmi, which is good.
Also, there's a royal consort that isn't blonde? That's new.
What is this 2 Paralipomenon?
Act I Chapter Twenty-Eight
TWENTY-EIGHT.
(Ain’t It Funny How the) Type Moves
14 March 1548 – 7 June 1552
(Ain’t It Funny How the) Type Moves
14 March 1548 – 7 June 1552
‘You did it, Tomík,’ Milomíra told her husband.
‘Did what?’ asked the twenty-one-year-old king.
‘You remember how I’ve been getting really queasy lately? Well…’
Milomíra guided Tomáš’s hand below her belly. There was a small, but noticeable, bulge. She grinned at him. ‘You’re going to be a real otec now,’ she told him. ‘Treat both of us well, okay, tatí?’
Tomáš had been good to his word and kept to a single glass of wine on all days when it was permitted, and it had the desired result. He hadn’t gotten drunk and publicly embarrassed Milomíra again. And now that he’d gotten some of his own clerks into positions of responsibility in the Church, he’d even gone to pray on the occasional Sunday Liturgy! Seeing this progress toward responsibility, Milomíra had become her old trusting self with him again.
Tomáš could tell she was being particularly affectionate when she behaved like a needy, spoiled little girl and pouted like that–even though she was slightly the older of the two of them. He slid a warm and grateful hand around her waist. ‘I will. I will.’
As they clasped amiably, the implications struck Tomáš: a child! Perhaps a boy–an heir!
‘Mother will be pleased,’ Tomáš told Mila.
‘She ought to be,’ Milomíra said, confident in her newly-expectant motherhood.
~~~
Queen Mother Lesana was not pleased.
‘Do me the favour of reminding me, I beg you,’ she said ominously, ‘to which position were you recommended?’
The saturnine young Italian, Mahtar Ventimiglia, looked bewildered at this cold reaction from the Queen Mother, whom he thought had been well disposed to him. ‘Mia signora… I am an engineer. A military engineer–a brilliant one, though I say it myself. So, naturally…’
‘We already have a military engineer.’
‘Perdonatemi, signora, but I had heard… not for long… ?’
‘And from whom did you hear this?’
The hapless Italian engineer could not but speak the truth in this situation. ‘From your steward. Štefánik.’
Lesana’s lip curled as she dismissed the crestfallen engineer, whose hopes of attaining the office so promised had been so jarringly and thoroughly dashed. It was Štefánik. Again.
True, Queen Mother Lesana had rather resented walking in on Štefánik and his little blonde harlot while they had been swiving on her bed–a bed she’d swived on herself only too rarely. But her dislike of Štefánik had been cemented long before then. The choice of Matej Štefánik for the Regency over her had been a calculated slight. Lesana Rychnovská rozená Sokolová, the daughter of a most ancient and worthy Velehrad house from the very seat of Moravia the Great in ages past, had been overlooked for a nobody–a Nitran armiger of little account, of picayune holdings and of obscure pedigree! (At a subconscious level also, perhaps, Lesana had transferred her hatred of Zelezný, her husband’s male lover, to Štefánik on account of the career-military background the two of them shared.)
But the bad blood between Lesana and Matej Štefánik had gradually escalated from occasional friction over things like Tomáš’s upbringing, to a full-blown power struggle between the two. The Queen Mother had been the one to argue for clemency upon Blahoslav Bosniak, not because she had any particular personal liking for him, but because he’d been willing to call Štefánik to task and make him look like a fool in front of the court. And now she was having to defend Bosniak’s appointment from backdoor challenges like this. If it had been Tomáš sitting here today instead of her, Bosniak might well be out, and she would be on the back foot.
Queen Mother Lesana would find a way to get back at Štefánik for this. It was only a matter of time, of patience, of planning.
~~~
Despite the nastiness of some of the backroom court politics in Olomouc, and the factionalism between the Queen Mother and the former Regent that engendered it, all in all the Moravian state had never been in better shape, or enjoyed a better reputation.
Moravia had been involved in two wars in Bayern in recent memory, and the perennial political and religious tensions with East Francia and with Austria always posed a concern. But Germans themselves, particularly merchants, were made welcome in practically every Moravian city, usually even being given special accommodations to stay in particular quarters of the city: a practice dating back to the first King Bohodar mladší. This had occasionally posed a problem for internal security, but for the most part it was an arrangement that was beneficial for all parties, and Bohodar 1.’s descendant Tomáš 2. was more than happy to uphold and expound the benefits of this tradition.
Also, Tomáš’s decisions to place the recently-annexed Sorbian lands under local Sorbian rule, and to place a Sámi as Lord Protector over Kola (a territory which now included all but the mouth of the Lule River, from whence Moravia directly operated a small shipping port), though the latter decision had cost the Moravian state a rather significant source of tax revenues, accrued benefits to the state of a different sort. Moravia was broadly seen among reformers and humanists on the continent as a haven of tolerance and a staunch supporter of their ideas. There was more wishful thinking to this than reality: Moravia was still very much so a conservative and devout power, despite having had a string of somewhat unconventional kings, including Tomáš’s father and grandfather.
Even so, Moravia’s reputation for benevolence did spread through Europe. So too did Moravia’s reputation for honesty and fair play: a result of their having backed White Rus’ to the hilt in its regaining of its former towns, without any regard to the costs to itself. The fact that Tomáš was also willing to hold his own officials’ feet to the fire over treatment of Sámi also helped in this particular regard. And the diplomatic corps found to their amazement that their jobs were considerably eased by the reputation that preceded them.
And then, one rather grey and snowbound day in early February of 1550—
‘Môj Kráľ!’
Tomáš, who had been diligently massaging Milomíra’s swelling ankles up to that point, turned abruptly to the source of the outburst.
‘What?’
Hubert Kozár’s face—normally so grave and dignified, as befit his office—was now alight with exhilaration. So jarring was the difference from his usual mien that he seemed almost giddy.
‘Môj Kráľ—you must come see this! You too, moja Kráľovná!’
‘I don’t think he’s taking no for an answer,’ Milomíra offered her husband a knowing smile. ‘Thank you dearly for that massage… but I think we’d better do as he bids.’
Tomáš took her hand and helped her to her feet, and they descended into the main audience hall, where it seemed that most of the inner Zhromaždenie had already gathered. Kozár wasn’t the only one who was aflutter with whatever had transpired here! Many of the court ladies were tittering behind their fans; and the men were no less craning over each other’s shoulders to get a better look at… whatever it was. Kozár briskly parted the crowd for the royal couple, who were escorted to where a wood frame had been erected in the centre of the hall.
‘It’s a… printing press,’ said the Kráľ matter-of-factly. It was easy to recognise the screw-press, the plate and the bench; from what he could tell at a glance, it was no different than any other press he’d seen.
‘With respect, your Majesty, you are correct,’ said the typesetter who had erected the thing. ‘And yet you are not. This is not just any printing press. Look closer.’
Actually, as the king did look closer, he could already begin to see the differences. The type trays were quite a bit neater than those he’d seen elsewhere. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a portable press of any sort!
‘And look at the pages this fine girl can print!’
The Kráľ took the leaf which the typesetter offered him, and his ash-blond brows rose in delighted astonishment. The lettering was in the Latin alphabet rather than the Cyrillic, but each of the letters was cut so cleanly and crisply that there was no mistaking what each and every single glyph was. Despite the alien Western script, it was in fact the single most readable page of print that Tomáš had seen in his twenty-one years. Clearly the punches and matrices that had been crafted for setting this page had been cut by a master! He shared the page with his pregnant wife, who traced a hand over the printed paper admiringly.
‘This is… exquisite,’ the Kráľ marvelled.
‘The trays and the punches were cut by a master from Strasbourg in West Francia, Sylvain Bourguignon. You see, this style of type is simple, elegant, legible, but… square. Easy to set. These punches and type trays are already selling like hotcakes across Western Europe!’
The clergymen and bishops in the hall were already crossing themselves and lifting their eyes heavenward, asking the Merciful Judge’s forgiveness for this clear and manifest devilry. But Tomáš 2. was eyeing both the page and a couple of the curious cast-metal prisms that had produced such fine work.
‘Could such punches be made to show the Moravian alphabet given us by Saints Cyril and Methodius?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ the typesetter said cheerily. ‘It would take a master metalsmith a few years to hammer out, if you’ll pardon the feeble pun. But there’s no reason why Cyrillic couldn’t be made as readable and as distributable as the Bourguignon Latin typeface!’
‘Then I shall order it done,’ Tomáš said at once. ‘Kozár! Send out the proclamation. Štefánik! I want a five-hundred-denár cash commission, payable in fine gold, to the metalsmith who can deliver me a complete, workable, readable Cyrillic typeset, with all punches and matrices upon inspection, that can be operated on such a press!’
It was indeed far more than a couple of years before that commission was able to be paid.
But on the ides of June of 1550, Queen Milomíra did give birth to a fine, healthy baby boy. The lad clearly had his mother’s sandy-brown colouring and hazel eyes, but possessed most of his father’s other features.
‘By tradition, we ought to name him Bohodar,’ said Tomáš. But Milomíra shook her head.
‘No, there have already been too many Bohodars,’ she opined. ‘How about Otakar instead?’
To this Tomáš agreed. He’d rather have a name for his child that his wife liked, rather than one that was foisted on them both by tradition.
The royal family was happy and flourishing. Otakar was the apple of his parents’ eyes, blessed with all of the natural graces that God could see fit to bestow upon a child: good looks; firm, hale flesh; a keen mind with a remarkable talent for both speech and organisation. (He far preferred to play with charcoal pencils and paper than with toy soldiers or wooden swords, though.) All was well, it seemed.
But the clergy did not agree.
‘Lord Kráľ,’ Bishop Arsenie boomed loudly across the hall, puffing out his chest. ‘The spiritual shepherds of the Church have besought the Crown for years to come to the assistance of our suffering brothers and sisters in Pest! Yet nothing has been done; not one soldier moved into place, and not so much as one letter written! Do not expect that God has forgotten, He Who sees and marks each and every deed of each and every person! Do not expect that your inaction shall go unanswered at the Dread Judgement!’
There was little, however, that Tomáš could do to placate the Church in this matter. An aggressive war with Austria at the present moment was unthinkable.
On the other hand, a certain monarch of a certain country to the north was quick to point to Moravia’s infamy, and its failure to uphold its own promises to the faithful.
And she did so in such a manner that a response had to be made.
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Wasn't it, though? Awfully considerate of them.
In the early game when I was having issues keeping my morale up, I had to learn pretty quick that if I wanted to win battles decisively I had to basically lure the other guys to me using a smaller force, and then catch them on a river or something with my larger one. And even then, as you saw, I would often have to do so at significant territorial costs.
Mwahahaha... yes. The era of brute force and primitive accumulation is over. Now comes the era of indirect rule and subtler forms of exploitation.
It does actually simplify the game in some ways. Landlocked means that you focus on building your army strength, and you don't have to worry about warscore loss over blockaded ports, etc. Trade actually isn't as dependent on naval routes as I thought it would be; basically I only had to worry about boosting the Wien market and then getting as big and fat a slice of that action as possible.
The downside is that the Moravian ideas tree is highly diplomacy-dependent, and most of the diplomacy tech tree is... well... completely irrelevant to a power that can't sail a navy (without heavy duty territorial expansion north or south). When starting off a game of EU4 rather than importing one from CK2/3, I would definitely not recommend choosing to play Moravia.
That was a few quick updates.
Moravia is doing very well, and they now are doing their best to make amends with the Sapmi, which is good.
Also, there's a royal consort that isn't blonde? That's new.
What is this 2 Paralipomenon?
Yup. 2 Paralipomenon (Παραλειπομένων) is the Greek name for 2 Chronicles. The authors of the Septuagint evidently thought that the Books of Chronicles were addenda that were originally excised from the Books of Kings, which is why they gave it the name.
And yes, Milomíra isn't a blonde but a sandy brunette. She's also not really that much older than Tomáš. Even among the Rychnovských, diff'rent strokes, I guess.
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Pomerania picked a fine time to be insulting. How many characters does the Cyrillic alphabet have? The inking, the cleaning, the maintenance. There is much more to the process than simply adapting the press. Thanks
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LOL, yup. It's a full 13 years, I think, before Moravia gets its first province that adopts the printing press. One thing I like about EU4's Institutions mechanic is that it models technological spread fairly accurately.
The original Cyrillic alphabet had 45 distinct glyphs, but in OTL in most daughter-languages of Old Slavonic the script underwent some degree of simplification and streamlining.
The (fictionalised) Moravian Cyrillic script I've been using for signatures and flags and museum displays and such in my AAR interludes has the following 33 graphemes, with their Latinised equivalents below:
| Аа | Бб | Вв | Гг | Дд | Ее | Ѥѥ | Жж | Зз | Ии | Ыы | Йй | Кк | Лл | Мм | Нн | Оо | Ѡѡ | Пп | Рр | Сс | Тт | Уу | Фф | Хх | Цц | Чч | Шш | Щщ | Юю | Ѧѧ, Яя | Ьь | Ъъ |
| Aa, Áá | Bb | Vv | Gg, Hh | Dd | Ee, Éé | "je" | Žž | Zz | Ii, Íí, Ýý* | Yy | Jj | Kk | Ll | Mm | Nn | Oo, Óó | Ôô, "ou", "ov" | Pp | Rr | Ss | Tt | Uu, Úú | Ff | Ch, ch | Cc | Čč | Šš | Šč, šč | "ju", "jú" | Ää, "ja", "já" | '† | "‡ |
† [soft sign] modifies palatalised consonants like Ďď, Ľľ, Ňň, Ťť when a near-high front unrounded vowel or diphthong does not immediately follow
‡ [hard sign] modifies 'long', bifurcated or trilled consonants like Řř
I think there may be an orthographic reform or two during the EU4 gameplay, though.
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The printing press will allow the spread of knowledge. Hopefully it doesn't encourage heresy, though - the monarchy and the Church are at odds enough as is.
Lesana and the old regent seem to be in an intense power struggle. I wonder what will happen if the Kral simply decides to ignore both of them...
Lesana and the old regent seem to be in an intense power struggle. I wonder what will happen if the Kral simply decides to ignore both of them...
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Act I Chapter Twenty-Nine
TWENTY-NINE.
Dolné Sliezsko
7 June 1552 – 20 February 1554
Dolné Sliezsko
7 June 1552 – 20 February 1554
‘Father,’ Artemie Štefánik asked, ‘what’s a “bastard”?’
Artemie’s mother Larisa dropped the platter she’d been washing with a loud clang as she looked from her son to her (at this point) lawful husband, who exchanged with her a mirroring look of concern. Matej cleared his throat, then turned to the ten-year-old boy.
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Some of the other boys in court. They were coming across the courtyard from the White Russian Wing. They started calling me a “bastard”.’
Matej Štefánik’s brow darkened. The White Russian Wing, so named for Queen Predslava who had spent the last years of her life there, had become the traditional abode of the Queen Mother. There was little doubt as to where those boys had picked up that epithet for Artemie Štefánik.
‘First of all, son, stay away from the White Russian Wing from now on.’
‘Okay.’
‘Second,’ Matej told him, ‘you are part of a family which is blessed by God and which loves each other. You are no less worthy of love than your younger sisters. Do you understand?’
‘I do.’
‘Now, there are those…’ Matej attempted to explain to Artemie, ‘who would think of you as “less than”, who would think of you as “beneath” them, because when your mother and I had you… I was slow to do the decent thing. Personally, I feel that’s a rather rubbish attitude to have. I want you to understand that you are not responsible for me, or your mother—only for yourself, only for your own actions.’
‘That’s right,’ Larisa told her son. ‘We both love you, and we both want what’s best for you. Don’t pay attention to what the other boys call you. They don’t know you as we know you, or as God does.’
‘I… think I understand,’ said Artemie.
‘Attend to your studies now,’ said Štefánik, ruffling his son’s golden hair. ‘Be attentive and dutiful. I must go away later today, but I’ll be back.’
‘To Lehnice?’ asked Larisa.
‘That’s the place,’ said Štefánik. ‘Someone has to teach Despoina Dervan a lesson in manners.’
‘Seems a rather trivial reason to fight a war,’ Larisa crossed her arms sceptically.
‘Not for a nation which rides as heavily upon reputation as we do,’ Štefánik noted wryly.
~~~
The first battle of the Moravian-Pomeranian war of honour took place near the town of Hlohov (which the Pomeranians called Głogów), in Lower Silesia on the Oder. The Pomeranian-Greek force led by Eusebios Kalothetos consisted of a much smaller troop of infantry and gun emplacements, which were quickly overpowered and subdued by the more experienced Zdravomil Krakovští z Kolovrat, who fielded a force of fifteen thousand.
Moravia quickly moved to occupy the territories of Dolné Sliezsko—that is, the areas around Hlohov and Lehnice.
Formerly, under the rule of the first Kráľ Tomáš, these territories had belonged to Moravia, and indeed one cadet branch of the Moravian ruling family was named for the town of Lehnice: a branch which included the onetime-nudist mother of Kaloján chrabrý, Queen Živana. Thus, in the Silesian regions directly adjoining the Moravian march, there had long been a popular sentiment in Moravia’s favour, which hadn’t abated with the breach of the alliance. Indeed, many Silesians there greeted the Moravian armies which took Hlohov and Lehnice with warm welcomes and gratitude. The rulers of Pomerania would have to work hard at keeping these territories loyal if they were ever to retake them.
Financing the war became somewhat difficult, in light of one particular revenue stream drying up. The Lule Sámit were still under direct Moravian rule rather than under the new Kola Protectorate, and for some time trade in ermine, lynx, glutton and wolf pelts had continued as a rather profitable venture. That was now no longer the case, as Sámi men who were no longer compelled to join these hunts were returning to their traditional livelihoods of herding and fishing.
The sudden collapse of this stream of revenue meant that Moravia was again compelled to take loans to finance the war. This time, however, the Italian houses of lending were again open to the Moravian state, and the terms on which they could borrow money were favourable. Still, all in all, Kráľ Tomáš would have preferred neither a borrower nor a lender to be.
During the time when Moravia was besieging Hlohov and Lehnice (with the more or less tacit approval of the residents of those towns), the administrative apparatus was once again attempting to keep up with Kráľ Tomáš’s domestic and foreign priorities after the sacking of Governor Havel. The laws punishing blasphemy and enforcing church attendance, for example (initiatives of the former Queen Helene), were subjected to very careful scrutiny and submitted to both the Zbor of Moravian bishops and the state Zhromaždenie for review. Intriguingly, the Zbor argued for a more restrictive definition of ‘blasphemy’ as the public and wilful desecration, mocking or insulting of holy places or people, arguing that sin is the conscious choice of the individual and thus involuntary or private sins are outside the realm of state action. The Zbor also argued against compulsory church attendance, saying that the matter must rest upon the conscience of the believer rather than the arms of the state. Once again the Church proved herself to be more humane and tolerant than many of the secular officials charged with her defence.
The state, however, did take the initiative during the Pomeranian War, of recommending as policy to its diplomatic corps that those sent on assignment needed to have proven, testable proficiency in at least three languages: Moravian; at least one other Slavic language spoken in Moravia (i.e. Bohemian, Silesian, Slovak or Carpatho-Rusin); and at least one other language spoken outside Moravia (e.g. Sorbian, German, Bulgarian, Magyar, Sámi or one of the eastern Russian dialects). The Moravian diplomatic corps had already been an attractive option for many of the best and brightest in Praha and Budějovice and Bratislava; selecting the most linguistically-talented cream of this crop allowed the corps to function with greater flexibility and efficacy than ever before.
The Pomeranian War was also the first war in which Moravia adopted a mass conscription policy—even though, with Pomerania being as weak as it was, there was no real need for it. The decrees went out into the villages and towns in force, however, where they were met with indifference at best, and outright hostility at worst. However, the Crown won back what goodwill it lost, particularly in the western Slovak lands, when the grounds were laid for a formal marketplace in Trenčín and a set of dedicated offices were put in place by Štefánik to ease and streamline the collection of duties from the town. As a result trade was considerably eased for the smaller Slovak town, and its connexions with Bratislava were allowed to thrive. The resistance to conscription in that area was lightened considerably.
But it was in eastern Slovakia, in the district which had once belonged to the Bijelahrvatskić lords of Užhorod, where the real military action of the war was to take place. An army of Pomeranians, about five thousand strong, began to besiege the town of Spiš.
Who commanded this army of Pomeranians is lost to history; however, it was almost assuredly none of the Pomeranian-Greek nobility which held most of the high military offices. But they flew the state colours and were clearly acting on the orders of their Despoina. Kráľ Tomáš sent in the local levies to deal with them.
The Battle of Spiš, which took place on the sixteenth of October in 1553, was decisive. The less than eight thousand of the West Slovak levies marched into the Tatras, but they had to ford the Dunajec River before they could engage the enemy, which put them at a significant disadvantage. Even so, the Moravian troops were disciplined and moved with cohesion in their divisions-en-tiers, and were able to strike not only the Pomeranian infantry with punishing manœuvres but even take down some of the Pomeranian hussars and long guns. The Moravians won the Battle of Spiš handily, and the surviving Pomeranians fled back northward through Galician Poland.
As it happened, only a couple of days later General Zdravomil Krakovští z Kolovrat was able to force the defenders at the Pomeranian capital at Szczecëno to talk terms. Unfortunately the Despoina was able to flee her capital before the walled town fell to its Moravian besiegers, but it was clear to anyone that she had lost the war.
Even so, she managed to hold out hope until February of 1554, when her advisors told her that there was nothing left to be gained by continuing to be humiliated by the Moravian Army. Pomerania surrendered on the twentieth of the month, and Kráľ Tomáš attended the peace talks personally.
Although it had been a war for honour more than anything else, in the end Pomerania had to bow both to Moravian demands and to regional popular opinion, and cede the territories of Dolné Sliezsko to Moravia. Moravia also exacted the customary indemnity upon the loser to front the costs of the war. However, this land grab by Moravia caused many of its neighbours—Carpathia, unfortunately, included—to look slightly askance at Moravia’s intentions in the coming years. Despite the new advantages it had gained, the Moravian diplomatic corps would have its work cut out repairing Moravia’s diminished reputation among the courts of Europe.
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Some call land-grab, others call land-return. On compulsory church attendance, I recently toured Henricus (England's third Virginia settlement) and under martial law Henricus required church attendance fifteen times a week with execution as a possible punishment. Thanks
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Pretty low of the queen mother to go for the child to weaken her rival, but then again backroom politics are never pretty. Štefánik seems to have turned into a pretty decent father, even admitting his own mistakes.
These last wars were walks in the park, but Moravia must be careful not to grab more than it can chew, or to make it's neighbours too envious of it's rising prominence.
These last wars were walks in the park, but Moravia must be careful not to grab more than it can chew, or to make it's neighbours too envious of it's rising prominence.
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The Church is modernizing quite quickly. I wonder if that will prevent calls for reform in Moravia. For that matter, I wonder who the Moravians would side with if the Protestant Reformation happened…
Pomerania is regretting breaking that alliance now…
Pomerania is regretting breaking that alliance now…
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Act I Chapter Thirty
THIRTY.
Guilds and Generals
3 March 1554 – 12 June 1559
Guilds and Generals
3 March 1554 – 12 June 1559
It was a sad winter for Kráľ Tomáš when Blahoslav Bosniak succumbed to pneumonia and passed away at the all-too-early age of forty-eight. Even though the military engineer had been quick-tempered, foul-mouthed and resentful, there was absolutely no question of his personal loyalty to Tomáš, or of the sterling quality of his work. The choice of his replacement was one that Kráľ Tomáš didn’t particularly relish, but it did have to be made. And the best choice appeared to be the Italian Muslim fellow that the Queen Mother had dismissed several years back—Mahtar Ventimiglia. In addition, there had been a new addition to the court… a subtle Bratislava burgess named Róbert Thurn. His duties to the Crown were never clearly specified, but he was a close advisor on certain matters to the Kráľ.
And little Otakar was growing up all too quickly. Tomáš worried a bit that he seemed to get on a bit too well with everyone.
Otakar was voracious for knowledge, and loved reading books (or rather, being read to)… and his favourite reading-partner thus far was the teenage boy ten years his senior—his former Regent’s and current Steward’s illegitimate son Artemie. Artemie, who was somewhat shunned by his peers on account of the circumstances of his birth, rather took Otakar under his wing: Otakar, who made a point of not judging or behaving prejudicially towards anyone. If rank and class and circumstance mattered so little to Otakar, a trifling thing like illegitimacy certainly wouldn’t put him off a friend… not that he could understand such a thing at his age anyway. And when the other kids were mean to him for reasons which he couldn’t understand, he made all that much more effort to be kind to the one they picked on. And thus was forged their relationship.
On the other end, Otakar was quick to seek out Brother Jeansa, the Sámi monk of Peäccam who was the spiritual advisor to the royal family and to the court. Brother Jeansa was kind to children. He always had a joke, a gentle pinch on the cheek, or a cookie for those in the court. Otakar, though, didn’t seek out Jeansa on account of the goodies he gave out, but rather the word of the Lord. Otakar sat for hours listening to Jeansa read stories from the Gospel or from the lives of the saints. In truth, Tomáš was slightly more worried that Otakar was developing these spiritual interests under Jeansa’s tutelage than that he was hanging out with the bastard child at court.
When it came to court factions, it was broadly considered that Brother Jeansa tended to favour Queen Mother Lesana; while of course Artemie was his father’s son through-and-through. But all that made no difference to Otakar. He saw no distinctions at all between servants, watchmen, advisors, clergy, burghers and nobles, but sought to listen to each with impartiality.
~~~
The status of bowers in Moravia had declined precipitously since at least the early 1400s. The first recorded instance of serfdom in Moravia is accounted for in the legal proceedings of a certain Bohumila Mikulčicková, Countess of Gömör, against the Crown, in which she demanded the return of several peasant families who had been bound to her lands under a very restrictive charter that would meet the definition. The Crown had dismissed the case owing to the fact that the charter had no jurisdiction outside of the lands governed directly by her family. But what started as a local custom in the area around Nitra and Trenčín for keeping bowers tied in perpetuity to the land they farmed had evolved into a full-blown institution in Moravia by 1500, and in the surrounding countries—Austria, Bavaria, Carpathia and Drježdźany in particular—by 1550.
The bowers did not accept their lot quietly. They knew the rights and privileges they had, and they knew that those rights and privileges were being taken from them. In Fojtsko, the flight over the border of a pretender to the East Franconian throne became the pretext for a peasant revolt against the imposition of serfdom decrees by the local nobility of Drježdźany. The leader of this revolt was a man named Awgust Jakobic.
It so happened that Awgust Jakobic’s armies had met with the same fate that peasant armies everywhere met all too frequently when they went up against trained lords and fighting men and castles. And it so happened that Jakobic himself was captured. And it so happened that the circuit court in Fojtsko had decided to put Jakobic to death by hanging. The noose was already around Awgust’s neck when Rodźisław 2. Rychnovský happened to pass by.
‘For what is that man being executed?’ he asked.
‘He is a rebel, Pán. He raised an army of landless and attacked Gera. His fate has been justly decided.’
‘On what grounds did you rebel?’ asked Rodźisław of Awgust.
‘The ancient rights and privileges of those who work your lands were being eroded like dry dust on account of your vassals, these highwaymen in rich robes!’ Awgust spoke out defiantly. ‘I go to God vindicated in defence of those rights.’
Rodźisław looked into the peasant rebel’s eyes for one long, hard moment, and then raised his hand. ‘Release him into my custody.’
‘But, Pán—!’
‘Your Hrabja has so commanded it,’ Rodźisław spoke harshly. ‘The halter is ready and waiting, if you defy me once more.’
Awgust Jakobic was freed from the noose and led down from the scaffold, and his hands and feet were unbound as he was brought before the Hrabja. Awgust knelt.
‘I owe you my life, Hrabja. Truly I thought there were no men left whose character matched their bloodline. If by my life or death I may serve you, I choose to do so freely. My fate is in your hands.’
Rodźisław took Jakobic by the hand and lifted him to his feet. ‘As it so happens, there is a vacancy in Budyšin that needs filling, and you look like you would fit the bill well for the manager of my household. Come with me, and we’ll see how we can set you up.’
From that time forward, the former bower Awgust Jakobic of Fojtsko served faithfully and adroitly as Rodźisław’s steward. There was never any question of his loyalty, which was absolute and unswerving.
~~~
The coming years saw a marked expansion of new settlements in the New World that had been discovered by Neustria several decades before. In particular, the Salṭanah of al-’Andalus and al-’Aštûriyya under Barhân ad-Dîn had made several colonial ventures into what came to be called an-Nahr al-‘Aẓîm, or ‘Great River’, and converted its natives to Islâm. But from an-Nahr al-‘Aẓîm came a veritable host of different cereal grains and other plants that took readily to the soil of the Old World: maize, tomatoes and cassava could soon be found growing throughout the Mediterranean basin. (In Moravia, it would be potatoes that made the biggest impact, but not for a couple hundred more years.) The East Franks and the Pomeranians were a couple of the early adapters to the new colonialist reality, and they moved to ensure that they were well-positioned to take advantage of any such discoveries in the New World.
Unfortunately, in the short-term, many were the merchants, even in Bratislava, who decided to take advantage of the new opportunities to the neglect of their pre-existing arrangements. The suppliers of the Moravian Army were among these. They cut corners in various places with regard to the provision of cloth and woollens, which should not have been cut. As a result, the uniforms for the Moravian Army were of a noticeably, and unacceptably, inferior quality.
This was part of a broader trend. Merchants in these cities had been outsourcing the production of certain intermediate goods (such as cloth) and even finished tools and products, to bower and serf homesteads outside of city limits; this was one way in which they sought to stay competitive in an international market that had been suddenly flooded with cheap raw materials from the New World. Naturally, the army wasn’t the only institution making complaints.
‘The markets of Bratislava have been flooded by these cheap rural-produced goods of inferior quality,’ said Horislav Kadlec, the head of the weavers’ guild of that town. ‘Our members have all sworn an oath before God and the Church to produce according to a specific journeyman standard, to be sold at what is a fair price for the labour we put into making them. This practice by the cheapmen not only makes a horrid and heretical mockery of that oath, but it also undercuts our market share and directly impacts the livelihood of our members. We ask for your Majesty’s justice!’
When put in such a way, it was unlikely that Kráľ Tomáš would have ruled any differently even if the army hadn’t been suffering the ill effects of the merchants’ ‘putting-out’. He told the master weaver:
‘I understand the truth of what you say, and cannot allow this abuse of our patience, this sordid spirit of scrambling for the lowest price for the lowest-quality traffic, to continue. Goodman Kadlec, you may tell the members of your guild that their proposal has the assent and the command of the King of Moravia behind it. Rest assured that we will put an end to this practice and uphold the privileges of the artisan guilds in our cities.’
In this way, the Kráľ also continued to uphold the Moravian state’s reputation for honesty abroad and the delivery of justice within its borders.
~~~
It was late in June of 1556 when the word arrived in the Moravian capital that Zdravomil Krakovští z Kolovrat had perished in an accident during a training exercise. An immense state funeral with a solemn Orthodox processional and All-Night Vigil, as well as military salutes, was organised for the general, who had distinguished himself in multiple campaigns—against the heretical Jägerhorniter of Östergötland, against the Bavarians and Italians and Galicians together during the White Russian War for Minsk, and again against the Bavarians in the subjugation of Fojtsko and Kamenica. Kolovrat had been one of the great military geniuses of his age. The loss of both Bosniak and Kolovrat to Moravia within such a short space of time was a great blow. Commiserations and condolences flowed in from across the Moravian lands, and Brother Jeansa was the one to deliver a very touching eulogy for the general of whom he’d formed such a negative first impression.
The news arrived later from White Rus’ that Knyaz’ Matfei 2. had also departed this earthly life, and left the throne of White Rus’ to his son Vladimír 2. Óskyldr, nicknamed ‘Valto’ by his subjects. White Rus’ was, for understandable reasons, all too happy to renew ties with the Kingdom of Moravia, and the official embassy from Minsk arrived several weeks later with Knyaz’ Vladimír’s offer.
This again put Moravia at loggerheads with Galicia. The Rychnovských-Nisa were still smarting from the loss of so many of their territories to the White Rus’, as well as from losing one of their key allies in the West—Bayern—to a war that they had no part in. For their part, Galicia made several threatening moves against Moravia that were very clearly territorial encroachments and demands for return. But when war came again to Moravia after several years of much-needed peace, it would not come from Galicia. It would come from far to the south.
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Well, that particular area of southwestern Poland is kind of complicated in this timeline. Very rare that any power holds sway there for long.
Very interesting. I knew about church attendance laws but didn't know they were capital in some places. Thanks for sharing!
Lesana certainly has her hangups. I can sympathise with her reasons, but yeah, she's absolutely in the wrong here.
Štefánik is an interesting character; I haven't really quite figured him out yet. He's energetic, dynamic, belligerent to a fault, and when he cares deeply about something, it tends to show. It makes him an unlikely plotter or faction leader... unless he's being manipulated by somebody else. There's a thought...
Speaking of which, that event hasn't even triggered yet!
And yeah, Pomerania made a huge mistake by breaking the alliance. Can't say as my own decisions in gameplay were exactly neutral, though.
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