1202-The Reborn World-IC

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

OOC
Map

Rules-
-No Godmodding
-I am OP, OP is God
-Co-OPs act with my full approval. If you wish to dispute a ruling, TG me. Until then, their rulings all binding.
-You may only RP one nation at a time
-You may not switch nations repeatedly
-Reservations are for three days
-Actions must be reasonable, or if unreasonable have appropriate results
IE France's King becoming muslim, then the Bishops rebel.
-The Papacy will always be a theocracy
-Previous Player actions in a nation are non retroactive

POST AWAY!

[G-Tech Corporation]

Chamber of Roses, Scarlet Palace, Kiev, Principality of Kiev

The torches burnt in their sconces, a light scent of rose and incense filling the air. Crafted by the local Waxworkers Guild for the engagement ceremony, they had been stockpiled for this day, at the heart of the winter. For several months the delegation from Vladimir had been entertained in the great city of Kiev, here on the banks of the ice-covered Dnieper. As fall came and passed the Crown Prince, a stout youth of fourteen, had come to know and accept the friendship of the Lady Anastasia, heir to the Principality that Vladimir-Sudzal represented. Regent Dmitriev mulled his spiced wine, savoring the warmth as he stood upon the carved stone balustrade of the reception room, drinking in the chill air and crisp night sky that lay over the city. Here outside the hubbub and pomp of the social circle that twirled inside the double oaken doors he felt more free. The guttering smoke and roaring fire were warm enough to be sure, and his position of power within the Principality as one of the wealthiest and oldest retainers of the Yaroslavs meant the glittering jeweled ladies of court paid him more than enough attention. But they were not the soul of the Rus'. This cold clear air, the harsh power of the winter, and the northern climes; ah, they were his first love, since he was a babe and breathed the ice and snow.

Behind Nikolai the door creaked open, causing the two guardsmen next to it to turn their eyes slightly from their rigid posture. As much as part of the furniture of the Palace to the Regent as any balustrade or chair, the guardsmen were fiercely loyal to the Yaroslavs, bannermen of no small skill. Through the gap of light and noise emerged a tall burly figure, breathing in the daggers of frigid air with a sigh.

"Prince Olgid." Nikolai addressed the father of the girl, the child really, who would soon be joined in marriage to the hope of Kiev. A volatile man in his youth, Olgid had renewed the old ties to Kiev, and Nikolai had fought alongside the great bear of a man on many fields. Against the eastern barbarians, against the Cumans, even against Pereyaslavl.

The Prince smiled, displaying a mouth still bearing many of its teeth; barely entering his thirtieth winter, the Prince was still young and hale, as the Grand Prince Yaroslavich had been. "It has been too long since you came north, Nikolai. My wife is inside; she has made some of those pork and meat pies you so love. Ah! But it is good to be outside of that tumult of noise and nobles. Good men you have old friend, but many of them. I could not hold your court straight even if I stayed for another winter's social season." He advanced to the balustrade, placing hands the size of bear paws on the polished dark fir. "I trust your business in the east is successfully concluded?"

With a cough the Regent laughed for a moment. "You could say that, yes. The border raiders were stubborn, which is why I was not here to greet your delegation in person. But the snows have dampened their enthusiasm for another drubbing at the hands of the Nightguards and our levies." He sipped from the spiced wine, turning to lean on the balcony railing and contemplate the immense stone edifice that was the Scarlet Palace. "And I trust Petoyr has been satisfactory? You feel quite at home in your chambers?"

"Quite alright, quite alright. Vladimir is a prodigy, and a positive gentleman. Also not bad with his sword; we've had a few friendly duels. He will be a fine match for my daughter, and is an heir worthy of old Vseslav." The Prince's face darkened. "Accursed be those sons of Pereslavyl that took him from us before his time. He was a man deserving of an old age doted upon by his children, not one to meet his end on a blade." At Olgid's sides his fists clenched, and his right hand rested on his sword hilt. Nikolai nodded, his face somber.

"I will teach them a lesson worth remembering this summer. Our forces have only grown over the years since Vseslav's death, and every raiding season they have less to oppose us. My last letter to you spoke plainly; if you join your forces to mine, all Pereyaslavl will burn. Have you thought of my proposition? A new Rus', not dominated by Kiev, but for all of the lineage of Rurik?"

Olgid sighed, his deep black beard a garb for his smoking breath. "Yes, Nikolai. My council and I have considered the merits of such a union carefully. Perhaps one day, but not now. But my soldiers will march south- Chernigov will allow them passage." Happiness replaced the cloud upon his candor, and a smile of a predator, like a wolf in the darkest of woods. "They will pay for their insult to our ancestors, ah, yes." The Prince turned, to go back inside. Almost as an afterthought he spoke, even as his enormous hand opened the door to the audience chamber. "Then, perhaps, when Prince Juriswa lies dead at your feet, we may talk more of your proposition."

[Reatra]

“Another wave of settlers for Cafa, René.” Danilo reported.
“Good, good. How goes the Corsicans?” Doge René asked his Marshal.
“The local villagers don’t really care that we’re taking the island. It is only the count and his barons. The castle in Ajaccio is still refusing to recognize you as it’s liege… but give me some gold and some men and I can change that…” Danilo said.
“I… I would guess that that would be the best course of action. How goes the penetration in Sardinia?”
“It seems that our efforts to increase our influence in the Black Sea and Corsica are making it difficult to direct our merchants to Cagliari too. But the north of the island is almost completely within our grasp. A few more bribes and a few more years and the castles and lords there will no doubt become part of our Republic.”
“Thank you, Danny, I hope to have the fleets visit these places soon. And ask Logan for the gold to take to Ajaccio, otherwise you can go relax with your family for the foreseeable future.” René said.
“I will, Doge. Also, the Saracens from Tripolitania and Tunis are seeming to become more calm, hopefully this means a year or two without disturbance from them.”
“We can only hope. Alright, I will see you soon, Danny.” René said, waving his Marshal off with his hand. René was left with his thoughts and his window. From his family palace, where all of the Soto Family resided. René, his three sons, one was eight, and the other two (who were twins) only six months. His two daughters, one a eighteen year-old beauty, the other a thirteen year old, also lived in the palace, as they were not yet married or betrothed to anyone. It was actually quite strange that René had been thinking of his daughters, as literally three minutes later Isotta Soto came in to René’s room.
“Father, I was just thinking of all the other girls in the other palaces, they have been wedded already. When are you planning to have me do the same?” She said.
“Love, I have yet to find someone worthy of your beauty. Give me some time, and I will find you the man that will wed you. Alright?” René said, hoping for the talk to end quickly.
“Ye… Yes father.” Isotta said, sensing her father’s discomfort. She left the room quickly.

“Damn. Why must these women want to leave?”

[Liecthenbourg]

The Papal States



Rome; The Eternal City
"For God So Loved the World"
- John 3:16

Thuribles were swung gracefully and candles burned brightly throughout the room as Pope Innocent slowly walked along the immense hall of his residence. Around him stood, in their red attire that took their name, Cardinals in their dozens - their wide brimmed hates of reds forming a great wave within the room. Accompanying the solemness as the Pope walked across the hall, Cardinals flanking him, was the sound of mighty chanting coming from the balconies of stone and marble above the gathered individuals. Nuns and Monks and Priests and Citizens themselves sung from atop these places, their lungs carrying beautiful words of song and tale.

Dies iræ, dies illa
Solvet sæclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sibylla.

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando Judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!

Tuba mirum spargens sonum,
Per sepulchra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.

Innocent climbed the steps before his seat and eventually sat down upon the greatly and exquisitely crafted chair of oak. As he seated, the fellow individuals in the room bowed respectfully and many of the guards by their stations amongst columns and on the balconies too did bow and kneel before His Holiness. Innocent had earned a great respect amongst his subjects in the Papal States and was looked up to by many of the Courts of Europe - those whom he had constantly informed his power super-ceded theirs for his position as God's Representative upon the Earth.

Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura,
Judicanti responsura.

Liber scriptus proferetur,
In quo totum continetur,
Unde mundus judicetur.

Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet apparebit:
Nil inultum remanebit.

Now a scribe came forth, a great parchment within his hands that the Pope himself had written over the course of quite a few weeks. These papers detailed what the Pope wished to speak about this fine morning of January the 1st, the Year of Our Lord 1202. Innocent grabbed a hold of the documentation, taking a moment to give the ring on his right hand a quick glance before he brought the papers in reading distance. Shuffling occurred amongst the gathered crowd of Cardinals, Nuns, Benedictines and Franciscans - here they stood awaiting his words.

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus,
Cum vix justus sit securus?

Rex tremendæ majestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis

Recordare, Jesu pie,
Quod sum causa tuæ viæ:
Ne me perdas illa die

Innocent then proceeded to begin, his voice booming across the hallway through an intricate architectural design that allowed Popes, from their elevated position, to echo their voice off of curved surfaces and so forth. "Cardinal Formadieu, long have you served the Catholic Church faithfully and devoutly - it is because of this that you have been given a task of the up-most importance. You are to travel to the Crusader States with a retinue of your choosing and from their, attempt to travel south in search for Prester John." Whispers proceeded after this statement, but the Cardinal nodded respectfully at Innocent for this task he would complete.

Quærens me, sedisti lassus:
Redemisti Crucem passus:
Tantus labor non sit cassus.

Juste Judex ultionis,
Donum fac remissionis,
Ante diem rationis.

Ingemisco, tamquam reus:
Culpa rubet vultus meus:
Supplicanti parce, Deus.

"The final stages of transferring both the Templars and Hospitallers to the Holy Land, obviously with their Orders still expanding across the European Continent, is to be completed by the end of April this Year when the final voyages, with Grand Master De Monte-fort and Grand Master De Montpelier travel to the Kingdom of Jerusalem with the final elements of what they take to the Levant in order to bolster our presence in the Holy Land and to provide the Crusader States with more forces against the Mohammedans"

Qui Mariam absolvisti,
Et latronem exaudisti,
Mihi quoque spem dedisti.

Preces meæ non sunt dignæ;
Sed tu bonus fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.

Inter oves locum præsta.
Et ab hædis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.

"Following the tragic and unforeseen death of the Bishop of Frankfurt, I have decided to place the Diocese under Cardinal Brandmuller whom is to leave for Frankfurt by the end of the week - as the people are in need of a Bishop to guide them in these times. Finally, I have seen it fit to allocate a good number of funds from our efforts and donations to the most noble cause of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. These are to leave with the Orders when their Masters depart - for the better security and insurance they will provide."

Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis,
Voca me cum benedictis.

Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis,
Gere curam mei finis.

Lacrimosa dies illa,
Qua resurget ex favilla,
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus

With this task completed, the Pope began to stand up. From here, he waved to his peers and fellow men and women of the cloth, whom began to leave in an orderly fashion to have lunch. He himself however, began to move into immense corridors and rooms - to speak to the Captain-General of the Papal States, for he had an idea that only military council could assist with.

Pie Jesu Domine,
Dona eis requiem. Amen

[Colonna]

Throne Room, Old Royal Palace
Prague, The Kingdom of Bohemia
The Holy Roman Empire

Damp. That was the one word to describe the throne room. The rains had arrived with Spring, blanketing the outside world in a fine mist, and, when the breeze caught the dew that clung to the trees and grasses, and swept into the palace like a saline tide, it left its frosty residue on the tapestries and the clothes of the palace's denizens. Princes are no exception, Ottokar thought morosely, a violent shiver racking his frame. Years of warring against the Czechs and the Germans had transformed him from a diminutive boy with flaxen hair, peach fuzz, and bright eyes into a powerful man with iron-like musculature and cold gaze. Nonetheless, he was getting on in years, and, soon, he would tremble and wheeze through the long, winter nights, leaving him too enervate to hold court.

An heir was needed, and soon. Vratislav, his eldest son, had scuttled off to Denmark with his tail between his legs, ever the irresponsible cur. In all likelihood, the boy would stay there, playing at the catamite with the flower of Danish chivalry. Ottokar might have spat phlegm had his vassals not stood assembled before him. He is no son of mine, the Old King growled inwardly, grinding his teeth in irritation, He is not fit to clean the manure from my stables. Jan would have to ascend the throne. As of yet, Constance's son was a sickly boy of two years, prone to fits and fevers. The throne would destroy him, as it had destroyed more hale and hearty men. Or perhaps God will gift me another heir, he hoped, One more valorous and worthy.

"What is the judgment of our sovereign?" a low, basal voice inquired. Ottokar's eyes flicked open and peered down at Mikoláš Czernin's tight-lipped, bearded face. The spy had been obliged to squat by the large, powerful hands of the swarthy Czech aristocrat, and his head hung despondently, awaiting whatever severe punishment the Bohemian King could contrive. "He is a member of my brother's household," Ottokar intoned at last, "It would be discourteous to allow him to rot amid the dungeons with rats as his sole confidantes." The guilty man glanced upward, hope flashing in his pupils, until he caught sight of Ottokar's grin of cruel amusement. Then he became despair personified.

"Interrogate him harshly," the king ordered, "Discover what he has learned. Unearth all knowledge he possesses pertaining to the Marquis's machinations. Then behead him publicly, so all may know the price of subterfuge." Czernin nodded mechanically, yanking the condemned man to his feet and dragging him from the chamber like a limp sack of wheat. There was no struggle, no tears, only a look of mournful shock and a quivering pair of lips. Ottokar took no pleasure in pronouncing such a sentence. He was not a sadist by any means. All the same, torturing and executing the man, who had lived for a year and a half as a stone mason in his household, was essential to the preservation of his authority. Turning the other cheek, while Christ-like and laudable, would condemn someone in his position to a swift demise. This sentence would serve as lesson against future effrontery, while also keeping his treasonous brother at bay.

"Vilém," Ottokar called. The chamberlain stepped neatly into the aisle and gave a smart curtsy. Vilém Chizmar was a spindly man on the cusp of his thirties with a fine complexion and a smooth-shaven, boyish chin and high cheek-bones. His appearance was almost pixie-like and rather feminine by most standards. Nonetheless, the chamberlain had made himself invaluable to Ottokar. He could speak and write in upwards of ten languages and had a knack for diplomacy. His counsel was sagacious and well-intended, regardless of the occasion, providing a nice counter-balance for the rash, self-centered advise of the gentry.

"Yes, sire?" Vilém babbled, exhibiting his normal social ineptitude. "Compose a letter to my brother-in-law," the king instructed, "I must be able to count on Hungarian support in the event of a war with Moravia. Inform him of what has transpired here today, and implore him to muster his forces." The chamberlain blinked and then nodded his assent. Content, Ottokar glanced into the assembled ranks of the nobility, but they already wore smiles of comprehension. War was coming, regardless of what the Hungarians did. It was a war that they were sure to win, and winning brought ransoms and loot. Ottokar had no need of their counsel. He knew what they would say. There would be war.

[Valentir]

Paris, Kingdom of France

The horses galloped up the cobbled roads of the streets of Paris, *clomp* *clomp* *clomp*. The horses were in full gallop, and moved like the wind through the busy streets. Peasants and soldiers moved to clear the way for them, for they knew who had returned to their fair city. The horses passed through the Notre Dame market district, which was alive with the sounds of chatting and the smells of fresh baked bread. From there they went down the bridge, crossing the Seine River, and toward the recently finished Louvre Palais. As they approached the great size of the new fortress cast a large shadow over the riders. The Louvre Palais was a magnificent castle, with very high and thick walls. Great towers that reached the heavens themselves were around the perimeter. A large moat, so deep as to reach the very depths of hell, surrounded the new castle. As the riders approached the gates, a large drawbridge dropped, and the riders directed their horses over it. As they rode into the courtyard, they were astonished by the sheer size of the castle. As the riders dismounted, two huge doors creaked open, and a tall man, with a golden crown on his head, and his Royal guards behind him, walked out to greet the riders. The riders removed their hoods, and revealed themselves. The Count of Toulouse, an ally of the King, the Duke of Burgundy, a vassal of the King, and finally a man simply known as the Bishop. The men approached the King, and bowed. "Your majesty, it is an honour to be here." The King motioned them to rise. "I thank you coming here. Gentlemen, I welcome you to the Louvre Palais, the new residence of the King of France, and one of the greatest fortresses in France. Now, please, follow me, we have much to discuss." The King and his allies entered the castle, their plans about to unravel.

[Fralinia]

Mead Hall of Valdemar II, Roskilde

"And so I told the Swede to go talk to Anatol, and while he was gone, I slipped a dash of bindweed in his cup!"
"No!"
"Yes! He was out of the hall and into the river in a minute!"

Felman, a minor noble who the King had invited because it was convenient, finished his joke and took a swig of ale. Valdemar and his friends were laughing, their minds inwardly focused on anything but the story and instead on how to edge this poor vassal out of a few more korsmønter The king waved his hand at Felman to dismiss him and attempted to redress the topic to what was actually important. Valdemar motioned to the nobles, wanting one of them to speak.

In the mind of Count Harlsson, thoughts began to brew.
The mead hall is loud, full of counts and barons laughing and joking and drinking late into the evening. The roar of background conversation will cover up the subversive nature of the discussion.

"So, Elmer," began the count, "How has the North been? Are the Swedes causing you trouble?"

Elmer, a short little shrew of a duke, shook his head. "No, Harlsson- there are some bandits, and the peasants are just as discontent as they always have been, but the nobles haven't been asking for troops and the frontiers are secure."

Harlsson turned to another of the king's friends. "Could you remind me how your harvests were, Arvid? Are the storehouses drained?" His face was quizzical and genuine, as though he was deep in thought about the various answers he might receive and what they would mean to him.

Arvid shrugged his shoulders. "No, sire, the harvest was usual. We have plenty of grain, and the sea has provided well for us- at least, in Zealand. Why do you ask, ?" The duke looked confused, and he leaned forward onto the table to look at the count.

The count leaned in and addressed all of them. "I want no one to speak of this outside this hall. I do not want you to levy men, or make any preparations. But be advised of what we discuss here."

Harlsson paused. The king raised an eyebrow.

He continued. "I have been considering, with your permission, of course, sire, gathering support for an invasion of the offending city of Lübeck. For too long have they patronized us, stealing our trade, befriending our enemies, and banding with their little city-states to rival us further. If allowed to continue, they will grow to endanger our people in Sjaeland. Lübeck must be crushed, before they are allowed to become dangerous."
The other nobles, including the king, sat back in shock. Valdemar spoke.

"An interesting proposition. Well justified, and I'm sure the nobles in the Skagerrak will have no problem mustering for the cause. But, personally, I do not think we need a war." In truth, he knew he was lying. The city of Lübeck was so tempting. It would be the jewel of Danish trade, giving his kingdom the chance to regain some of the wealth that they had had in the days of his forefathers, when the Danes sent ships to Constantinople for gold and sacked the world's greatest cities on a whim. He knew at once that he must do it... but how? It was a question for another time.

[Kargintina]

Second Bulgarian Empire
Второ българско царство

Tarnovo, Second Bulgarian Empire
Drip, drip, drip; water leaked through the ceiling of Tsar Kayolan's (Ivan II) palace. Outside, rain fell from the skies, as God's tears pounded the rooftop of his palace, Tsar Kayolan was preparing for a special event. Nobles, Knights, and other seats of power in the Empire where coming to the palace to participate in a large feast prepared by the Tsar. His servants stood outside his room, waiting for him to be fully dressed for the occasion. They began growing impatient waiting for their Tsar, but knew better then to knock or yell through the door. The Tsar was a man of violence, as he had proven a few months before when he seized Slavic Macedonia from the crumpling Eastern Roman Empire.

The Tsar himself was an worried man. The Hungarians and their Serbian vassal had recently seized the city of Belgrade, within the borders of the Bulgarian Empire. He wanted to take action against the Hungarians, but the recent war with the Romans has left the Bulgarian army in ruins. Before he finished putting on his clothes, he came up with an idea, be he decided to wait until the feast was over to put it in place. He finished up and rushed out the door to his waiting servants.

The smell of warm food flooded the dining hall as the quests all readied to eat the meal laid out in front of them, all different types of food, fine soups, fruits straight from the fields, sliced up vegetables, and in the center, a whole turkey, brought all the way from the farms in Slavic Macedonia that had been seized during the war with Eastern Rome. Before they began eating, the Tsar lead the feast attenders in prayer, thanking the lord for the feast given to them and the victory over the Romans. After he said amen, the feast attenders where given the permission to eat.

Throughout the feast, Tsar Kayolan couldn't help but worry about the situation in Belgrade. He had trouble eating, and he dropped his utensils a few times, when the feast concluded, he retired to his bedroom where he grabbed an ink pen, imported from the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and began to right in his best Latin.

To: Pope Innocent III, Bishop of Rome and Pope of Catholicism,
From: Tsar Ivan II Kayolan Asen, Ruler of Bulgaria
I am terribly sorry for the three year wait for this response, and I know your Holiness is busy with many other matters now, but I have a urgent request of you. I know you wish to unify the Church of Bulgaria with the Catholic Church, and I wish too as well, but I have but one request for your Holiness: bestow on me the imperial crown and sceptre that were held by Simeon I, Petar I, and Samuel; then I will gladly agree to the reuniting of the Church of Bulgaria and the Catholic Church. I also ask that you recognize the head of the Bulgarian Church as a Partiarch. If you do not fully agree to these terms, please send a delegate to Tarnovo to negotiate terms that fit better to your Holiness' desires.

Sincerly,
Tsar Ivan II Kayolan Asen of Bulgaria

Tsar Kayolan gave the letter to a servant and laid down on his bed. He hoped that the Pope would accept, because if Bulgaria was recognized as a Catholic nation, Hungary could be crusaded against for attacking a follower of the Papacy. He then stood back up, and saw that his Tsarita was waiting at the door, he then locked arms with her, and began walking down to the ball room, where the feast attenders had all gone to dance.

When the dance had ended and the feast attenders prepared to make the journey back to their different corners of the Empire, the Tsar once again headed to his room, and before he put on his night garment, wrote a letter to the Velik Voivoda (General of the Army) to prepare about 26,000 troops, Bulgaria was preparing for war.

[Colonna]

Mead Hall of Valdemar II
Roskilde, The Kingdom of Denmark

Vratislav gave no inclination of his true sentiments as he drank and traded japes with members of the Danish aristocracy. At the moment, he was embroiled in the tale of his first hunt at the tender age of nine. "One of Emil's hounds whined at just that moment," the prince chortled, sloshing the beer in his chalice with calm elegance, "And the ruckus spooked the boar. He was absolutely livid. I fancy I was as well. We'd been tracking the damnable beast since sunrise. Well, anyway, the boar scrambles off into the underbrush, with Emil hot on its hooves. I've lost my wits by this point, and can do little more than perch in my saddle. I can hear the boar yowling and snorting, and Emil swearing like a Swedish whore. The hounds aren't having any of it. So, having no idea what to do and not wanting to look like a coward, I brace my lance and charge into the underbrush. Then..."

He took a protracted pause to drain his cup, promptly refilling it. A knowing smile spread across his lips, bright as the dawn. "What happened next?" a younger noble piped up. "Wouldn't you know it," Vratislav said wryly, "I managed to almost ram Emil's ass with my lance. Needless to say, the damn boar scuttles off to some god-forsaken corner of the wood. Emil's furious, as anyone would be. He twists in his saddle and asks me when I became a Greek that I would try to thrust my lance through his ass." An eruption of uproarious guffaws and cackles followed the jest, with some minor noble from one of the southern marches pounding the table and shouting for another toast. Arvid, he recalled blithely, Arvid is his name.

His drinking mates toasted his name for the second time that evening, smashing their goblets together with inebriated abandon. They all reeked of alcohol, grease, and sweat. It was a musty, manly scent, one that reminded the prince of an army's encampment. In that moment, Vratislav could not resist the urge to booze and chuckle boisterously with them, even as his reflections him carried him back to his homeland in Bohemia. A prince must ever be a beacon of strength and charisma in the presence of lesser men, and he was not so humble to think these Danes, many of whom had no real ambitions, his equals. He had but one confidante, Markéta, and his thoughts rested on the letter that had arrived today.

Markéta wrote that little Jan, their half-brother, had a mild chill. Her worries had become apparent as he read. Their father, normally a staunch Catholic, had employed the services of a Jewish doctor local to Prague, much to the chagrin of the aristocracy. His sister also related how, the night before composing her letter, she had stayed in the chapel, on her knees in prayer, pleading with God to heal the sickly child. She had always been sweet and selfless in that way. It made sense that holding no bitterness towards the issue of the woman who had replaced their mother came so naturally to Markéta. He was not so much the saint as his sister. A part of him hoped fervently for the boy's death. Nonetheless, Vratislav had promised to pray, whatever good that would do.

Ever the dutiful brother, Vratislav had described his comings and goings in meticulous detail. He mentioned how he slew two boars while hunting with King Valdemar, how he had bested one of his more persistent opponents on the training field, and how he had felt the first time he stood upon a ship outside of a port. A few self-written poems and borrowed words of praise and encouragement, courtesy of the classics, also littered his reply. He had ended his letter thus: "You are like Orpheus who strives to rescue me amid these times of bleakness and despair, and I, your ever faithful Eurydice, do beseech you, look not for my countenance on this wayward path, for you will not meet my gaze. Walk a bit further, my dearest and most esteemed sister, my exquisite fair one, and blink, and I will kneel before you, for, more so than Christ, you are ever my savior."

In an almost offhanded manner, he had also penned an inquiry about the rumors of a conflict with Moravia, but the conquest of the March had become a secondary concern of late. In truth, the prince was now more preoccupied by Danish affairs, principally as they related to the fledgling Hanseatic League. King Valdemar had spent most of his reign feuding with the Swedes, but a handful of German and Baltic cities, sparsely defended and marvelously lucrative, sat within easy grasp. Vratislav even had a strategy to subjugate them one by one, and had counselled his host on more than one occasion that, if he would allow him an army of five thousand men, he would make him the most affluent prince in all the north. Thus far, he had been gently rebuffed. It was undeniably frustrating, but Vratislav was confident that his fortune would shift soon.

Several advisers, older more storied men, sat around Valdemar whispering schemes into his ears. With his normal genial grace, the prince locked eyes with his host and gave a radiant smile, before lifting his chalice in acknowledgement. "A toast!" the Bohemian bellowed, "To our beloved sovereign! To the King!" His shout was echoed along the whole length of his table, mostly by slurring nobles, the fair majority of whom would pass out within the next half hour. "To the King! To the King! To the King! Skol!"

[Fralinia]

Valdemar's thoughts on the conquest of Lübeck were suddenly interrupted by a voice that only one man could possess- it was the Bohemian.

Upon looking away from Harlsson, Valdemar confirmed his suspicions- it was Vratislav, the young prince that he had taken into his court some time ago. He stood up from the table, leaving his nobles chanting for him, and grinned at the young man.

"My young prince! Such a wonderful occasion! I do hope you'll excuse us, friends, I wish to talk to Vratislav here." He gestured to the prince, and then to an empty corner of the hall. Valdemar then walked over, mulling over in his mind what he wanted to say.

"Vratislav, before we begin anything, I want you to know that I can read a man's face." he said, with a serious tone in his voice. "I would appreciate it, if it isn't too much trouble, if you stopped looking down on my countrymen like a band of slobbering drunks. They're far more than that. They'rea band of slobbering drunks with land, titles, and influence, which means that they have sway over the both of us. Show them a bit more respect. That being said, never put anything below them, or they'll always surprise you."

He thumped the prince on the back and lightened up. "There, I'm done with the serious talk. Now, for what might interest you: I've decided I'm finally going to go to war with these infuriating Baltic city-states, and I have considered placing you in command of an army. You've wanted that sort of thing for a while now, haven't you?" The king looked to the Bohemian with a hopeful face.

[Finland SSR]

Duchy of Lithuania

"Welcome to Kernavė, Ryngald. I see you brought your family to the gathering this time?" a servant said to the horsemen, arriving at the gates of the main city of Lithuania, Kernavė.

"Yes. It is abou time they learn about politics and diplomacy, especially at these troubled times." Ryngald replied. On the saddle behind him sat two children - the 9 year old Daumantas and 11 year old Mindaugas. Behind Ryngald also were a few soldiers, as escort. Even though their lands were close to the capital, they still needed some defenses.

The duke left his horse at the stables and walked through a small market. Many children and traders were running around. At the left, Ryngald saw a man in black and white with a bald head, a dark physique and a cross in hid hand. Even in these cold winters, these "men of God" were walking around in the capital, aimlessly trying to convert the people to their faith, crying of eternal hell and damnation if they cling to the old ways. Ryngold ignored him, and as he walked to the fortress, the priest was arrested and thrown to the dungeons.

--------

Žvelgutis, the eldest duke, holder of Kernavė and de jure the Duke of Lithuania, was uneasy. Ryngold had just arrived, and it was time to start the meeting.

"Thank you, Ryngold, Duke of Lietava, for coming to this meeting. Is Duke Daugirutis of Deltuva here?"

An old man from the side stood up, wearing armor. He was a paranoid person, and always feared assassins or enemies.

"Daugirutis is here. Is the Ruškaičiai family, Dukes of Upytė, also here?"

A few men stood up. They were quite young, and they looked like they were brothers. One of them was very old, most likely the father.

"Thank you, you can sit down. Is Daumantas, Duke of Dubysa, here?"

Daumantas stood up. He was holding a little child, which was his son, Treniota.

"Thank you. Is..."

Žvelgaitis went through all of the minor dukes, which took some time. Everyone was here. The old Duke started talking.

"You may all be wondering why you were brought here. Here's why. News have arrived from our northern neighbours, the Zemgalians. They are telling us that a large group of unknown people from the West, who worship the western god, have arrived at the banks of Daugava, where sea and land meets. They have built a city there. We do not know what they are up to, but we have heard that they are aggressive. They also have red swords on their shields. I tell you to be wary of anything that comes from the North. The duke of Zemgale has signed an alliance with the new force. We should be wary of these news. That is all."

[Pavlostani]

Cairo
The Sultanate of the Ayyubids

Sultan al-Malik al-Adil Sayf al-Din Abu-Bakr ibn Ayyub traced the Mediterranean Sea with his finger on the map.

"The key to Europea is the Mediterranean and the key to the Mediterranean is the Italian Peninsula. It very nearly bisects the sea and the wealthy nations on the peninsula certainly profit." He informed his council. One by one, al-Adil's advisers nodded in agreement.

"Now, General al-Zahtar here, has a plan to shift the balance of power in favor of the Chosen Peoples, us." He gestured to the brutal looking man next to him. al-Zahtar stepped forward and began.

"I see before me, grey beards and rheumy eyes that remember the Crusades. The Lionheart dishonored all of Arabia when he reestablished the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Will you stand for this spit in the face from the Christian pigs?" He demanded. The council murmured their indignation but fell silent as al-Zahtar's booming voice fell upon them once more.

"I have discussed a plan of operations with the rest of the Mamluks to retake Palestine and make the Sultanate strong once more. Our beloved Sultan fights with tariffs and credit, but only a gleaming scimitar can diminish our rivals. As our Sultan said, Italy is the key to Europe and in Italy resides our greatest foe: the Pope. This defiler must be removed if we are to endure. For as long as the Pope directs Christendom, we will live in fear of a new crusade. But Rome cannot simply fall to trebuchets and spears. It is foolhardy to rush a giant with one attack, but if weakened by hundreds of cuts and wounds, it will fall all the same. Which is why we must sacrifice to gain. As you may be aware, Christianity is deeply split, much like us and the Shi'a kathiri. Our old enemy, Byzantium does not recognize the Catholic Church, and holds an extremely strategic position. For the good of the Sultanate, we must come to terms with them. Still filthy in the eyes of God, the Orthodox are less of a threat than the Catholic and will stand with us against the Defiler.

In Italy itself, our greatest foes may be Venice and Sicily. Sicily is Hohenstaufen territory, we'd have better luck reasoning with a Catholic bull. Venice's navy is formidable, as is their trade power. Economically, it would be foolhardy to place an embargo on Venice until we have secured proper relations with Byzantium. We are also discussing... alternative methods of dealing with Venice. But if Sicily and Venice can be removed from power, we face our greatest challenge. With Rome under direct threat of a Muslim invasion, all of Europe may rally to defend it. Our only hope is the Alps, and a combined Ayyubid and Byzantine presence in the Mediterranean. Sultan al-Adil and I have discussed opening talks with the Almohades and the Balaeric Emirate for access of a military presence in Gibraltar. There are legends in the Khwarezmi Sultanate about many centuries ago, when they were the Achamaenid Empire, they attempted to invade Greece. A smaller Greek army defended a narrow pass called Thermoplyae for many days, inflicting large casualties on the Persian forces. That is our plan at Gibraltar. If we control Gibraltar and eliminate the Italian states, our only naval threats will be from Gaul and Pisa." al-Zahtar nodded and stepped back. Vizier Sufal tilted his head.

"I am curious. What has changed that is prompting this new aggressive actions towards the Christians?" He asked.

"Intelligence reports suggest a renewed Crusader offensive in Jerusalem, we don't know how many or how bad the attack will be. We've mobilized regiments in Syria to deal with the threat, but as a wise man once said, the best defense is a good offense. I highly doubt we will actually attack Rome, the mere threat of an attack will be enough for the Europeans to capitulate Palestine to us." al-Adil assured the Vizier. al-Zahtar grimaced.

"The Europeans are a savage, barbaric people and we will not sit idly as the continue to ravage and defile our lands and peoples in Arabia. This is our chance to strike back." He said.

"Inshallah." al-Adil said quietly.

"Inshallah!" The council declared.

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Imperial Palace
Byzantium, The Byzantine Empire

Emperor Alexios Branas Komenos stared sadly at the map of the once great Byzantine Empire that was splayed out on the table before him. What once stretched over the whole of the Mediterranean under his distant and long gone ancestor Justinian had shrunk and collapsed into the small state stretching from Greece to Eastern Anatolia. His predecessors, the damned fools of the Angelosi, had almost ruined what his family, the Komenosi, had rebuilt over a century. Gone were the Macedonian and Central Anatolian lands. Gone too was Gothia and Kalfurnos. He had put an end to their reign in two years past, wresting control of the country and stopping the Bulgarian invasion before more than Macedonia was lost. With the support of a loyal army, he had set about fixing the wrongs of his predecessors. His first actions were to root out the Angelosi corruption and restore Komenosi advisors. He quickly had seen how close the Empire was to falling into economic ruin. It had taken two years of reforms, well counter reforms, but the economy was healthy again. Byzantium still reigned as King of Black Sea and Mediterranean Trade, if only by a slim margin.

The military was harder to fix. On paper, he had roughly 80,000 men at his disposal. 10,000 sailors, 20,000 cataphracts and horse archers, and nearly 50,000 infantry. In reality, only his cataphracts were at that level. They were directly under his control and had backed him politically. The navy was full of corruption. One Trebizond Admiral had sold everything down to the nails of his ships. He had ships for about 6,000 sailors, and roughly an equal number who were professional in their training and conduct. He had the Admiral executed and appointed Marcus Polumeni as the new commander of the fleets. He had initiated reforms in the navy. Older Ousian Dromons were scrapped and their crews redistributed to larger ships. The navy reorganized into a better trained, more professional force of 10,000 sailors and 3,000 reservists. New Dromons influenced by Italian designed were constructed, and were under construction. There were now four classes of galley in the Byzantine navy. The smallest were the 100 man galleys. Then came 150 man dromons. Next were 250 man dromons and finally the ultra rare 350 man galleys. Today, Alexios had four of the 350 man ships, serving as flagships for the Aegean, Black, Capital, and Mediterranean Fleets. He had 35 of the 100-man ships, 27 of the 150-man ships, and 19 of the 250 man ships. His navy was smaller than most, but it was better trained on larger ships. The various provinces also maintained large amounts of smaller galleys for trade patrol. With an increasing threat from Italia, he was authorizing the creation of ten more 100-man galleys and two more 250-man galleys.

His infantry, once the mainstay of Roman Armies(now it was the cavalry) had been reduced from the bloated 50,000 man mob to a 25,000 man army. He had placed the other 25,000 or so as reservists, no longer active duty and free to pursue their own trades. They were still required to fight when called upon, but historically most did not. ALexios hoped he solved this by granting them lands in Anatolia, which they would have to defend. This removed the more disloyal units from his army, and allowed him to focus his spendings on his military. Better equipment, training, organization. The Army was reorganized into five armies in five Themas or provinces. They were Thracia, Greece, Byzantium, Southern Anatolia, and Northern Anatolia. Each had 5,000 infantry and 4,000 cataphracts. This split his forces, but allowed each force to be strong enough to beat off most threats.

This of course, had come too late to stop most of the land lost. But land lost could be reclaimed. And as there were enemies, the damned Bulgars and Seljuks, there could also be allies. To his north lay a vast land of faithful Orthodox. Though the Varangian Guard had been disbanded, maybe half had stayed in the army. Maybe it was time to send north to form a more official alliance. And to the East lay Georgia. They too would be good allies. Sending out riders, he invited the Princes of Kiev, Galicia-Volhynia, Pereyaslavl, Chernigov, Vladmir-Suzdal, and the Merchant Lords of Novgorod and the King of Georgia to a meeting in Byzantium.

OOC: If listed, presume a letter. My battery is almost dead and can't finish this in time

[Valentir]

Louvre Palais, Paris, Kingdom of France

It was a dark night in the city of Paris. No torches were lit, the streets dark and silent. The only light came from the moon, and was the guide to those brave enough to walk the streets at night. Parisian Nights were dark and full of terrors, as the common saying went. Criminals ran the streets, and operated from hidden passages throughout the city. This is what Parisian nights were like, dangerous. Paris had been like this for nearly five years. It started when the King went on his crusade. Paris fell into decay, and criminals began to form gangs and gangs began to divide the city. While Philip had doubled the guard, it was no good, and trade was harmed by this increasing criminal activity. However, on this night, it was one of the many problems that would be resolved. Near the edges of the Eastern half of the city, hugging the river Seine, was the recently constructed Louvre Palais, the new residence of the Royal family. On the west wing of the palais, behind the great stone walls, lies the war room, and it was from here that France would be reborn. The King's plans were in motion.

King Philip II Augustus, known as 'the Great,' by the commoners, sat high in his seat, at the head of the great oak table that dominated the room. On his right side sat the Count of Toulouse, Raimond VI, a vassal and close ally of the King. Next to him sat the Duke of Burgundy, Hugh IV. He too was a vassal of the King, and an old friend. On the left side of Philip sat Charles, the Archbishop of Paris, and the Royal Spymaster. Next to him sat Louis, Baron of Melun, and Royal Ambassador of the Kingdom of France. These men formed the Royal Council, and they would advise the king and help him rule his great kingdom. It was quiet in the room, as the men looked over a table covered in parchment. Letter, Royal Documents, Accounts, Military Orders, Laws and Customs, all were spread out over the table. As the men examined each paper carefully, Louis broke the silence. "Your majesty, there are many papers here. It shall take a long time to carefully record them all." The others looked up. The king spoke, "It shall take a large amount of time, but it must be done. We shall record and copy every paper here, and this isn't all. I'm having every record, all books, all accounts, everything, brought forth from the vaults. With the help of the monastic orders of France, I intend on recording it all and storing it in a new library, right in here in the Louvre."
Charles nodded, "It would certainly make our jobs easier, and reduce the clutter we have to deal with."

"The idea is an excellent one, but I fear we have other issues, my lords," said Duke Hugh. He pulled a paper from the pile and laid it in front of them. "The Angevin Empire, our mortal enemy and the greatest threat to the realm, is rebuilding. We may have had a victory two years ago, with the Treaty of Le Goulet, but that only strengthened your legal rights to John's lands. If we are to break the Angevin Empire, we must take Normandy, Anjou, Maine, Aquitaine, all of it, by force."

Philip nodded, "Yes, you are right, and we are in a good position to do so. However, we are alone. We lack allies, and we will need them. While all of you were away, I spent time thinking about possible alliances. I have decided that Scotland, Norway, Bohemia, and Ireland are all good places to start looking. Scotland is not fond of England, and may want a chance to beat the English bloody. Norway no doubt wants to expand her territories in the Isles, and we can take advantage of that. Ireland is divided by Chiefs, but if they were to be united, they could be a great threat to the English."

"My lord, that is true, but why Bohemia? They are long ways away, separated by miles of squabbling german princelings."

"Bohemia is a strong German state and could help us counter an attack by the Holy Roman Empire."

Charles was silent, yet Philip could tell he had something on his mind, as he was one of the few who could, "Speak Charles, I value your council."

"Well, my lord," he started as he pulls forth a map of Europe, "All of these alliances are great, but what about alliances within England itself. The English barons are thirsty for more land, and there are man French nobles, isolated by their English rulers. If we made alliances with them, we could break the Angevins from within, as well as invade their possessions."

Philip was intrigued, "Hmm, this is true." His eyes turned to the Angevin Continental Holdings. Well, my lords, I think we have worked enough for one night. You are dismissed." The councillors rose, bowed, and left the room. As soon as they left Philip took several pieces of parchment, a quill, and some ink, and began to write. Charles had given him many ideas, and he would put them to the test.

To: His Holiness, Pope Innocent III
From: King Philip II Augustus

Dear Your Holiness,
As you may know, I have fought the English for many decades, attempting to reclaim my birth and legal rights. For many years the English have unjustly held dominion over France. Your Holiness, I shall not deceive you, I seek what is mine, by all the laws of God and Men. Yet, I cannot in good faith harm fellow catholics. The English, being who they are, are still members of the Church. Yet their King defies the laws of God, and seeks to undermine his will. Your Holiness, you are God's messenger, I was crowned by you personally, as King of France. I ask for your assistance in helping me regain my god given right, to reclaim the unjustly held Angevin lands and united the French people. Please, I beg for your blessing on my mission. I hope you understand my plight and will consider what I have said.
Humbly, your faithful servant,
Philip II of France

To: His grace, William, King of Scotland
From: King Philip II Augustus

Dear Your Grace,
Greetings, William the Lion, I write to you in a time of conflict and immense strife. For many decades we have ever been in the dark shadow of the Angevin Empire, who has attempted several times to enslave our peoples. France and Scotland are alone, and have been for a long time, yet I feel this need not be. The French and Scotland have a natural enemy, and I am of the opinion that an alliance and betrothal between my daughter, Princess Marie, and your son, Prince Alexander. Together we can crush the English, reclaim what is ours, and plant the seeds for a long lasting peace. I am eager to hear of your thoughts and may God bless you, your family, and the people of Scotland.
Sincerely,
King Philip II Augustus

[Snovatgatovia]

The Seljuk Sultanate of Rûm
Konya, Khanqah of Mevlana

Sultan Suleiman II, the conquer of Erzurum and undisputed ruler of the Turks exited the main chamber of the Khanqah with his entourage and guards. He looked from the balcony over the city of Konya with its bustling Bazaars and multi-story homes filled to the brim with his adoring subjects. Ever since since he had seized power from his youngest brother Kaykhusraw I in 1196, the Seljuk nation had grown large and prosperous, at least, it seemed relatively so compared how it looked when the capital had been placed under siege by Germanic crusaders 12 years before. Suleiman was the Ceaser of Turkey, a living legend who dreamed of ruling Byzantium, Georgia and beyond.

For now though the ghosts of the third crusade still haunted his homeland. The Europeans still had their eyes set on his precious city of Konya. The Ayyubids to the south still refused his pleas for cooperation on the grounds that his people were Sufis; perhaps the worst part about this was that they were the closest thing to allies his people had. Suleiman spoke briefly atop the Khanqah with bureaucrats, nobles and men of the faith seeking to come to a consensus on their next course of action. While another campaign in the east could increase the Sultan's prestige and further feed the growing empire he expressed concerns regarding the crusader states.

"We cannot afford any more turmoil brought on by in-fighting. If the European barbarians manage to divide us any further us it could spell the end of the dynasty!"

As he said this the Sultan's exiled sibling, Kaykhusraw was busy parading through the streets of Byzantium. He had just married a daughter of Manuel Maurozomes; an illegitimate child of the former Byzantine emperor Manuel I Komnenos. This marriage bound him to the Noble family of Maurozomes and would doubtlessly be a great asset if he ever hope to reclaim his throne as they were quite wealthy and their word carried great weight in modern Roman politics.....

[Kryskov]

The Duchy of Lesser Poland

Krakow

These were the Dark Ages. Religion and superstition held its grip on Europe and led to war, plague, and famine. Yet still, some sparks of light made themselves shine through this darkness. One for the history books would be the reunion of Poland and the beginnings of a golden age. Some modern scholars agree that the process began with the dealings of Leszek the White, Duke of Krakow and Lesser Poland.

Leszek was a descendant of Boleslaw Wrymouth, whose testament had partitioned the Duchy of Poland into five parts. Leszek, through marriages by his ancestors, had come into possession of not only the Duchy of Krakow, but of Sandomierz and Mazovia as well. Although, Leszek had no intention on retaining Mazovia and was drafting plans to transfer it, as his father had willed, to Leszek's younger brother Konrad.

Lesser Poland was, ironically, the best Poland, being centered in fertile lands with bountiful mineral deposits and holding the largest and most important city in de jure Poland, Krakow. But Leszek, at just 14 years old, was caught in a battle with his kinsman, Mieszko the Old, for the title of High Duke of Poland. It seemed that there was to be strife between the young Dukes in Krakow and Mazovia and the older breed in Poznan and Silesia.

Leszek was holding court in his hall one day, flanked by his mother and soon-to-be-former regent Helen. There came a messenger, riding at fast pace, from Płock, the Ducal capital of the Duchy of Mazovia, where Leszek's brother Konrad was preparing to take the reigns.

My Lord, His Highness Leszek, High Duke of Poland and Duke of Krakow,

I bear most regretful news. A plague of typhoid has hit part of the city here. Your brother Konrad was infected, likely through interaction with a chambermaid, who later died of the disease. Konrad fell quite ill and died on January 3rd. By the merciful hand of the Lord, he was delivered unto Heaven peacefully in his sleep. By order of succession, you inherit now all of Konrad's rights to Mozavia.

Signed, most regretfully,
Stanislaw, Steward of Mozavia
Lord have mercy on us

Płock

Leszek had departed Krakow for Mazovia in order to attend his brother's funeral and also consolidate the support of the Mazovian nobility. The funeral was a fine one. Konrad was surely looking down from the heavens and smiling; his brief time on this world had left on impact on many. His good nature was a goal, to be emulated by other nobles.

After the funeral was over, the lords of Mazovia feasted in honor of Konrad and of the dukes of the past with Duke Leszek, who gave a toast to them shortly before.

"My vassals, my countrymen, my friends; today we gather in order to celebrate a life that has ended. But also, we celebrate a life that has begun. A new life for all of Poland, no longer fractured and torn. I ask today that you great men stand with Krakow and with Lesser Poland against the tyranny of the Old Man in Poznan and his puppet in Silesia. I ask that you support me, in return for my everlasting gratitude and service, in making our two duchies one. I find it easy to imagine us in union, being like-minded and of Lesser Polish culture. I now propose a toast, to my friends here today, and to my beloved brother Konrad, and to Our Lord Jesus the Savior."

After the feast dispersed, the Duke of Lesser Poland returned to Krakow and, by decree, fused the Duchy of Lesser Poland and the Duchy of Mazovia into one entity, the Grand Duchy of Krakow.

[Liecthenbourg]

The Papal States



Rome; The Eternal City
"For God So Loved the World"
- John 3:16

Pope Innocent stared intensely at the armoured individual opposite the grandeur oaken dinning table, the intricate patterns and emblems donning his metallic protection and the red cloth that went over it being illuminated by the various candles that burnt throughout the room. Wine glasses, plates of slowly roasted pork glazed with honey from the Papal Gardens, salted porpoise caught off Fiumicino and seasoned pheasant that had been recently been game, alongside several dishes of vegetables and fruits of bright greens and yellows, deep oranges and reds and the odd juicy purple had been placed upon the table for a meal fit for the Pope and his guest. Reaching towards his glass of fine wine, Innocent began to speak to his associate.

"Captain Lombarto" he began, sipping a bit of the wine before placing the piece of glassware upon the table. "I have need of your council."

"Your Holiness?" the Captain replied after he had tucked in on a mouthful of salted porpoise. He then ran a hand through his beard, before he placed down his cutlery back upon the table.

"We are plagued with two breaches into the Christian World - the monstrous and barbaric Almohad Caliphate in the East and the uncivilized as well fanatical Ayyubids. What I wish to ask you" Innocent's face began much more stern and he disregarded his wine glass for a moment, despite his wanting of a drink. "Is, whom would you strike to weaken their grip holds on these areas?"

The Captain-General thought long and hard, faint whispers in his mind telling him various things and ideas. As he placed down his utensils for a second time, he couldn't have enough of the seasoned pheasant you see, he wiped his face with a silken cloth and reclined back comfortably. "Your Holiness" he began, glancing around the room idly for a moments before reverting his attention. "I'd recommend that we strike, if the need to comes, the Ayyubids. However, for now they remain unprovoked so I would suggest attention be brought to Iberia to complete the Reconquista. The Spanish and Portuguese, despite having regained significant lands, would most likely welcome the help and perhaps if attacks were launched at the unsuspecting Southern Coastal Cities of Iberia - such as Cartagena and Malaga, Almohad attention will be opened on three separate fronts. Not a very welcome position."

Innocent had taken in all the words, having become incredibly intrigued by the ideas the Captain-General had suggested. Both continued to dine and now idle chatter and banter filled their conversations, but Innocent now had a plan that would require the help of several Italian Merchant Republics for its fruition.

[G-Tech Corporation]

February 2nd, Year of Our Lord 1200
Scarlet Palace, Kiev, Principality of Kiev

With the final departure with the winter storms of the Vladimiri contingent, new trouble comes to the doors of the seat of the Grand Prince in Kiev. A messenger, with the look of one having ridden hard and long, brings a call for aid from the Prince of Galicia, a friend of Kiev. Cuman sea raiders are burning his southern fiefs, and though his forces are strong on foot and his cavalry rampant, Galicia lacks the forces at sea to repel them. Regent Dmitriev rides south to take command of the Kievan warships.

February 7th, Year of Our Lord 1200
Fortress of White, Kiev, Principality of Kiev
With word from the south of the shattering of Cumani naval strength in battle off Sevastapol, rejoicing is had in the capital, joy made only greater by news of the offer of the Galician Prince's daughter's hand in marriage for the young second son, Alexei. It is an offer the Regent takes gladly; the aging Prince of Galicia, though strong, is a widower, and has but two children. Daughters, the eldest will wed Prince Alexei, joining the noble line of Rurik to that of formidable Galicia. A message too comes to the Guard at Kiev, requesting an audience with the Prince. The Byzantine man is greeted warmly, and once his word is delivered, returns south with a promise Kiev will attend the Emperor's conference.

April 3rd, Year of Our Lord 1200
Lubny, Principality of Pereyaslavl
As an early thaw and spring cover the land the levies are raised early, and smash Pereyaslavite border forces, stiffened by Nightguard Great Companies. Regent Dmitriev leads the swift seizure of border regions, and storms towards the heartland, brushing aside the small levies thrown at him by surprised Pereyaslavite nobles not expecting him to have already prepared for a campaign.

April 22nd, Year of Our Lord 1200
Pereyaslavl, Principality of Pereyaslavl
Pereyaslavl burns, sacked after a surprise nighttime attack overruns the unprepared defenders. Many nobles are executed by the victorious Kievans, joined by the forces of Vladimir, vengeance finally taken for Vreseslav. New nobles are appointed by the Regent from the ranks of his followers and the Nightguard to rule subjugated Pereyaslavl, though small military actions continue for weeks to bring the land back into Rurikid compliance.

May 2nd, Year of Our Lord 1200
Straits of Bosphorous, Byzantium, Eastern Roman Empire

The Kievan dromon, built after the Byzantine style to ply the relatively calm waters of the Russian Sea, rocked gently with the east breeze filling her sails. It was a motion Duke Imshav and his charges, the young Prince and Princess, had grown used to in their two weeks at sea from the mouth of the Dnieper. In a satchel at the hale Duke's side a message from Regent Dmitriev rode, penned to the Byzantine Emperor, apologizing for the lack of his person; the campaigns in the east and the hoped for fall of Pereyaslavl required his person in attendance there, rather than at the Byzantine Emperor's meeting. Just outside the Dnieper the dromon and her escorts had sunk a Pereyaslavite vessel looking like their own. Perhaps no envoy from that land would come at all to the Roman Emperor's meeting, not that his presence would matter much in either case. By now the city itself must have fallen, and more lands would be added to the growing Rus', a new lease on life for the Slavs and Varangians of the former Kievan allegiance.

Ahead the quay beckoned, and sailors tossed ropes to waiting harbormen. With pomp and circumstance subdued, the Kievan representatives trod the boards down to the redoubtable stone harbor with little in the way of ceremony. The Duke was here to bargain as a friend to Byzantium, not a foreign dignitary to impress and cause envy in her downtrodden peoples. Imshav's weathered grey eyes scanned the crowd at the dock, swiftly picking out the swirl of persons that evinced the approaching Byzantine welcoming entourage.

[Lunas Legion]

Kingdom of Jerusalem and Cyprus

John of Ibelin leaned back in the throne as he motioned for the next petitioner to be admitted. He wasn't sure whether he could last 8 more years as Maria's regent, especally considering the current state of the Kingdom of Cyprus and Jerusalem. The failure, at least in his eyes, of the Third Crusade, may have been the death knell for the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Why should Maria be titled Queen of a city she had never held? He had no doubt that without another crusade in the next decade, he would have no choice but to negotiate with the Ayyubid Sultan terms of either surrender or ceding the final strips of land he ruled in Maria's name in the Levanant to the Sultan in exchange for terms; whether or not they were generous was another matter.

He sighed, declining the farmer's petition for compensation from bandits, turning his thoughts to other matters. That they needed to strike now was clear; any later, and the last Christian footholds in the Levanant would be eradicated. He stood, ended court for now, and went to his solar to write a letter to the Pope.

To Pope Innocent III,

As Regent of Queen Maria I of Cyprus and Jerusalem, I beseech you for aid. Following our latest failure in the Third Crusade, the holdings of our Kingdom have been pushed back to little more than a strip of land along the coast, and Jerusalem itself, holiest of holy places, has been lost to the heathen Ayyubid Sultanate.

The forces of Jerusalem and Cyprus are not strong enough to reclaim Jerusalem ourselves, or defend our meagre holdings in the Levanant itself should the Ayyubids launch an assault against them, and as such, I pray that you see fit to send men and money so that we may retake Jerusalem in the name of Our Lord God and His Son before all hope of doing so is lost.

John of Ibelin, Regent of Cyprus and Jerusalem

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Second Concourse
Byzantium, The Byzantine Empire

Alexios watched from his sedan chair as a procession passed by. Normally, he, as Emperor, would have bulled his way through. However his Palatial Guards Captain commented to him that it was a marriage procession between Maria Maurozomes and the exiled former Sultan of Rum. Since Maria was his third cousin or great niece or something like that, he decided not to rain on her parade. The marriage was beneficial for both, he knew. Maria was legitimizing herself, and attaching herself to a potential power. The Sultan was aligning himself with one of the Imperial family. Not that Alexios would really help the Sultan unless it was purely good for the Empire.

After the procession passed, he returned to the Palace. The affairs of the Empire were looking up. His son Theodore Branas was almost in Tmutarakan, there to cement Byzantine control over the country. The country was nominally a Byzantine client state, but the Angelosi Dynasty had sold off most of their powers for cash, the fools. The naphtha deposits here were worth more than gold. And so Theodore was sent to the state with 10 Galleys and 2,000 Heavy Infantry. They were going to institute stricter Byzantine rule there.

Theodosia
Tmutarakan

Theodore watched as the dock pulled closer to his galley, or rather how his galley pulled closer to the dock. Half were bloated transport galleys. The other half were combat oriented dromons. He looked out onto the dockside to see a hastily assembled line of infantry appear. Sloppy. They weren’t even challenged by a galley from the harbor patrol. The infantry had makeshift leather and an array of weapons. In comparison, the Soldati lining the railings of the ships, by no means the whole force, were garbed in steel lamellar and scale, with heavy spears at arms, swords sheathed, and shields abreast. It was easy to see who was the more competent force. A local noble appeared as the ship came within 5 meters of the dock. They hadn’t fired because the Imperial Family Banner.

Shouting out to the apparently disheveled noble, he said “I am Theodroe Branas, Ceaser of the Byzantine Empire. I have come to restore and reinforce the rule of Byzantium in the area. My Lord Father, our Lord Sovereign, has declared that I am to assume the role of Kratos of Taurus. If you would be so kind as to take me to Prince Yevengy’s Palace, we shall go now.”

Theodore and 200 of his men went with the noble to the local lord's castle. His remaining 1,800 men dispersed through the city to the fortifications, much to the discomfort of the local garrison. His ships were guarded by some 180 marines with bows. In keeping with Byzantine tradition, all byzantine infantry was heavy infantry, and all cavalry was heavy cavalry. Archers and light troops were provided by provincial and mercenary forces, and light cavalry was provided by either a few byzantine forces or the more common Cuman and Kitai imports. His troops were from the Capital Army, about 40% of the battle line for the capital. Not that it was too risky with the Imperial Guard and Thracian Army right there as well.

Theodore and his men entered the hall of the local lord. This lord was also the Prince of the entire principality, but the other cities really only gave him titular power. Theodore would change that.

Golden Horn
Byzantium, Byzantine Empire

The Kievan Delegation was met by a troop from the Imperial Guard and Count Trediz of Galatia. They were escorted to the Blue Palace near the Hippodrome. They were informed that they were the first arrivals and that there was still another three weeks before the conference was slated to start. They were told they were free to enjoy any of the venues in the city, at Branas' expense and that Paxos Branas would be more than willing to be their guide.

Foreign Quarters
Byzantium, Byzantine Empire

It began at midnight. Hundreds of soldiers marched into the Venetian, Pisan, and Genoese districts of the city. Soldiers boarded ships, took over Trading Houses and Commerce Guilds, and prominent and affluent merchants received surprise visits in the night. Guardsmen posted notices on boards and buildings all over the districts. The Tax Exemption of the Latin merchants had been revoked. All trade goods in the city were now subject to tax. Same with all bullion and all hulls. The tax was do upon exit or in a week for existing goods and upon entry and exit for new arrivals. Similar actions were occurring in cities all over the empire. No longer would the Italian traders have free reign in the Empire. Though the greedy bastards would whine, the rules they now had to follow were the same as everyone else in the Empire.

[Estva]

The Royal Palace, The Kingdom of Hungary

King Emeric of Hungary looked out upon his capital city, Esztergom, and admired the influx of merchants from across the know world. Fur traders from Russia, Italian merchants peddling their wares, French wine tradesmen, and the native Hungarian artisans.

Hungary had long been a relatively tolerant nation, filled with religious minorities and ethnic immigrants. This was only increased with vassalization of Croatia and Dalmatia, which brought in more Slavic Catholics to the fold. Bosnian heretics were persecuted, but only because they openly denied the authority of the Pope over their daily lives, and thus rejected the Catholic legitimacy they carried regardless of their religion. Orthodox heretics, primarily in Serbia and the Balkan frontiers, were tolerated so long as they obeyed the same laws as Catholics. Hungarians and Slavs treated as equals, to prevent the muti-ethnic kingdom from collapsing in on itself.

Emeric's brother, Andrew, has taken father's inheritance and money to dispute the throne. Emeric and Andrew's father had bequeathed this inheritance with the understanding that Andrew would fight in the name of Christ against the infidels in the Crusader states. Instead, he acted like petulant child and fought against Emeric. Croatia and Dalmatia were conceded to him as an appanage to keep the country together, and prevent the Venetian bastards and Bulgarian heretics from encroaching in on Hungarian territory.

Walking away and closing the shutter of the window, Emeric sat down upon his throne, contemplating precisely what he should do. Serbia, his most recent hobby, had already been conquered, and a loyal Serbian vassal installed to keep order. This infuriated Orthodox Christian, especially the Bulgarians, but the power of Byzantium meant any Bulgarian incursion that was too strong would allow for Byzantine counter-response. In addition, the Holy See enjoyed wondrous relations with Hungary, as Emeric had fought to ensure Catholic supremacy across the land, and eradicated the Bosnian heretics who had the audacity to challenge the legitimacy of His Holiness.
To reinforce this relation, Emeric signaled his servant to bring ink and parchment. Upon the completion, Emeric had finished two letters, and handed them over to the scribes for translation.

To His Holiness Pope Innocent, disciple of our Lord Jesus Christ,

I am overjoyed to report that the Bosnian heresy has been crushed. The few that remain flee to the wilderness, and their heretical priests have been executed, cleansing the land. Your personal interest in this matter has helped ensure the stability of the region, as well as shining the light of the lord upon these lost souls.

It is for this reason I ask whether you have any desire or need from a Catholic monarch such as myself. Our friendship has allowed the redemption of the Orthodox heretics across the Balkans, and your encouragement of our expansion has eased things for me greatly. How may I, your servant, aid you in any way?

Sincerely and with admiration,
Your servant King Emeric of Hungary

To Emperor Alexios Branas Komenos of the One Roman Empire,

Our peoples have not always agreed with each other. While our faiths may not be reconcilable, as it stands we are still both brothers of Christ. The Bulgarians have fought against you, and their outrage against my actions in Serbia lead me to believe they wish nothing but the worst for me and my people. To the east, the infidel fight against not just your empire, but Jesus himself. I ask of you, shall we work together against the Bulgarians, and those whom wish to raze Constantinople?

Sincerely,
King Emeric of Hungary

[The Seleucids (Ancient)]

Atabeg of Mosul

House of Nur ad-Din Arslan Shah I
Last night Nur ad-Din Arslan Shah I had a dream, a dream of an independent Mosul, a dream where he wouldn't have to swear loyalty to someone. Arslan Shah figured it was a sign, a sign from god.
He quickly got out of bed and while dressing himself he looked out of his window, looking over the city that was his. Most people where already busy in the markets, trading their goods and enjoying the time with their families.
He walked out of his room and called for a meeting with his generals. The dream he had during the night had to wait, today there where other pressing matters to adress.

Meeting of the Military
Arslan Shah walked into the room where his general where already awaiting his orders. "I had a dream tonight, a sign of God. Mosul will gain its independence once more. First there are other concerns. For to long have i ignored the Arab raiding parties in the south. I want to finish them off for once and for all. I've thoguht about it this morning and we should establish a zone occupied by our forces to protect the trade coming from the Arab traders."
A general stood up, questioning the idea, "Shouldn't we ask the Ayyubid Sultan for permission to do such thing?"
"No. We will not ask him. The trade that we can secure thanks to our presence in the Arab lands will be stocked away, we will gather it for the coming time. Once we are ready to declare independence from this Sultanate we must be ready. Money gives us the means of making ourselves ready. If he questions it at some point, we will tell him that the soldiers are there becouse of the security. He won't deny our troops there. In the end it would be his money that gets raided, so to speak ofcourse.
While we secure the south we must also look to the north. These small states could be easy targets if we play the right cards. We must get them to provoke us, then we call upon the Sultanate for aid, making us more powerful and influential over the northern region.
At last we should contact the Seljuks, they can become an important ally against the Sultan.
For now, we should continue our matter like usually. I will listen to the Sultan, obay his orders, send soldiers to fight off the crusaders and keep myself on good terms with the Sultanate. But once we gathered our strenght, we will make sure the Sultan will never set foot on our soil again!" "Allahu Akbar!"

Arab Tribal lands

Orange part south of Mosul
has been declared a safezone
by orders of Nur ad-Din Arslan Shah I

It was only days later when soldiers from Mosul crossed the border into the Arab lands, guiding themselves to the destinated points of the newly formed safe zone.
Mas'ud II 'Izz ud-Din, the son of Nur ad-Din Arslan Shah I was the commander in charge of the operation. It wasn't anything he couldn't hanlde. The goal was to establish some outposts and to put an end to the raiders that attacked traders on their way to Mosul.
The army of 2,000 had split in four to cover the area effectively. Mas'ud II led the eastern army of 700 men. He knew that those tribes would seek out to attack the two central armies of 300, this he used as an advantage. The Eastern and Western armies both had over 300 cavalry forces. Both central armies had only one. That one would head for the main army in question (central east going to the east and central west going to the west) to get aided. While the central forces kept the raiders busy the cavalry had more then enough time to charge in effectively, putting an end to all of them at once.
According to scouts and local traders the raiding parties where gathering about the move made by Mosul. It was a chance that Mas'ud II had to take.

Several days passed while scouts searched out information on the locations of the raiding parties, this eventually with some succes. Three of these raiding parties had been identified while the rest remained somewhat hidden. The outcome of the meeting several days earlier had become known. Mas'ud II knew for sure that they decided to hold out, waiting for another day to fight back. What these tribes/raiders did not know was that Mas'ud wasn't traveling through the region just for the savezone, he was also there to hunt down those that had become a threat to Mosul and its trade.

Exactly one week after the locations of three tribes where revealed two armies of Mosul attacked them at their camps. Two of those tribes had set up camp together in the hope that their forces combined would be large enough to combat the Mosul armies, this however turned out to be a false hope when they where attacked by 1,200 men during the night. According to Mas'ud II, who led the army, only a dozen of them got away.
The other tribal camp got attacked by 800 cavalry forces during daylight, none of the raiders/tribal men survived the attack. Mas'ud II had instructed his men from both armies to take back all heads of the enemies. At the outposts in the safezone (which where still under construction) the heads where placed on long poles as a warning for the other raiders/tribes.
It was a good start, but Mas'ud II knew that this wasn't enough. He knew he had to take down more of them, enough to send a clear and undisputed message to these cowards.

[Mesrane]

The Kingdom of Scotland

Stirling, Scotland
Haunting. That was one word to describe the sound of the wind as it howled through the Ochil Hills below Stirling Chapel. Thinking quietly on the foremost pews of the chapel, King William of Scotland could hear the banshee-scream of the wind even now. It tapped on the stained glass directly in front of him, as if attempting to speak to The Almighty and his son. At the risk of being judged as selfish, William would rather have the wind attempt to speak to him, for Scotland was indeed at a crossroads. Directly to the south: England, bankrupt and shaken after the financial ravages dealt upon it by King Richard's costly crusades. Young King John, his successor, was considerably unpopular. Perhaps the Barons weren't ready to revolt, perhaps they were, but the fact remained that the country was not as united as it could be. And then there was France. Strong, united, and with stable allies in Toulouse and Burgundy. The howling of the wind matched the screams of his dying men as the Battle of Alnwick came back to him. His shameful ransom, the loss of Northumbria . . Scotland may have more than recovered since then, seizing the Hebrides once and for all, but the wrath of that defeat bore heavily on the aging king every morning when he woke. King Philip's intriguing letter was set out before him on the floor. William had read it four times and had spent the better part of the last hour deciding his course of action . . Scotland's course of action.

To: His grace, William, King of Scotland
From: King Philip II Augustus

Dear Your Grace,
Greetings, William the Lion, I write to you in a time of conflict and immense strife. For many decades we have ever been in the dark shadow of the Angevin Empire, who has attempted several times to enslave our peoples. France and Scotland are alone, and have been for a long time, yet I feel this need not be. The French and Scotland have a natural enemy, and I am of the opinion that an alliance and betrothal between my daughter, Princess Marie, and your son, Prince Alexander. Together we can crush the English, reclaim what is ours, and plant the seeds for a long lasting peace. I am eager to hear of your thoughts and may God bless you, your family, and the people of Scotland.
Sincerely,
King Philip II Augustus

In the rear of the chapel, a creak sounded and a pair of boots shuffled forth as the heavy door shut behind them.

"Alan?"

A chuckle sounded behind him. "How do you know, every single time My Lord?"

"Because you're the only man in Scotland who walks like a wraith Alan."

Both men laughed heartily. "Well being your steward, I'm sure you've heard these footsteps more than you can count." Alan Fitzwalter's face turned grim for a moment. "Have you come to a decision yet My Lord?"

William looked once more upon the image of Jesus upon Golgotha, in the final moments of his crucifixion. "I have, Alan, I have indeed. But politics should not be discussed so readily in a house of God. Let us go outside for a moment."

His steward nodded and made for the door. William gathered Philip's letter and his own empty parchment. Outside, the wind abated somewhat, but the chills of January were as acute as ever. William wrapped his thick woolen cape around himself. It was unusually chilly for a May afternoon, and the sky suggested that rain might come by nightfall to complement the wind. Certainly the villagers drew cloaks and blankets around themselves as they went about their business in Stirling. The aging king gazed out across the moors, and slowly nodded to himself. He had reached a decision indeed. "England is as weak as it's ever been, Alan. King John is unpopular, Rebellion by the Barons seems not to far off, and the country is either bankrupt or nearly so after Richard's crusading. France, on the other hand, is strong. Alexander's marriage will tie our kingdoms together. If there ever was a time to strike, it would be now. "

A wolfish grin spread over Alan's haggard face, even older and more fiercely lined than that of William's. "Shall I gather the Earls then, my King?"

"Not just yet Alan. I need to learn from Philip more detailed plans. Also in the meantime, Alexander needs to be alerted about the marriage and emissaries need to be sent to the Welsh and Irish. Their help should be instrumental in bogging the English down on two more fronts on the isles alone. We'll provide the third, France the fourth."

"Very well my lord. I'll leave you to write that letter then."

Philip II Augustus, King of France,

For a day I deliberated on the wisdom of such an alliance. I shall tarry no longer. We must stand together against the English tide. I accept the betrothal of Alexander and Marie, Alexander has learned French since childhood and I do hope the marriage will be a successful one. This should bind our kingdoms together in an alliance, one that I hope may stand the tide of years as well as that of the English. If I may suggest the Irish and Welsh as potential allies, as neither have great love of the English, and if their chieftains could be united, even for a few years, they could do wonders to bog down the English on two additional fronts. I shall send emissaries to them at once. In the meantime, shall I mobilize the Earls at once or wait until some of the English Barons can be encouraged to rebel against their hated King John? The loss of Northumbria has weighed heavily on my heart and mind for years, and the opportunity to get that and more back frankly delights me.

I am anxious to hear back from you. God bless the glorious Kingdom of France, it's king, and all its people.

Sincerely,

King William of Scotland

[Colonna]

With violent enthusiasm, Vratislav clapped Valdemar's shoulders with his large, calloused hands, and peered into his eyes with a fierce, hawk-like gaze. In that intimate moment, the Bohemian prince was more affably human than he would ever be with anyone save his sister, more like an old, close friend of the Danish king than his imperious guest. However, a bestial tension animated his movements and gestures, a fierceness that might recall a sleek hound or a falcon drowning in the ecstasy of its killing dive. Vratislav was the consummate prince, a deity cloistered amid the sewage of human suffering, a devil still reeling from his fall. To look upon his aspect was to know both fear and awe, both indignation and grudging respect.

"I give my word that you will not regret this, Your Highness," he exclaimed in an excited whisper, his youthful eagerness overwhelming his sense of decorum in that moment. The prince smiled broadly, triumphantly, dreams of conquests animating his keen, brown eyes. "I shall make you into the greatest prince Europe has ever seen," he promised, "Charlemagne's accomplishments shall seem pale and tawdry next to your own. Imagine an empire stretching from-" Drawing a deep breath, Vratislav composed himself, and released Valdemar from his tight grip. To speak and act in so familiar a manner with the king was folly. Not only would such a blunder risk the position of command that had just been offered, but it might also lead to his banishment, depending on how hot his host's ire burned. He noted, with some apprehension, that a few of the older men were gawking at him with plain disapproval.

His expression became stoic. "Any service which I could render to Your Highness would be an honor beyond any I might have hoped for," the prince remarked humbly, "Make me into Your Highness's peregrine, and, in one magnificent swoop, I shall subjugate any who oppose you." Glancing furtively around the hall, Vratislav wondered whether this plan had been confided in anyone else. Naturally, he reflected, His closest confidantes will have been informed. Valdemar won't have been so foolish as to proceed without the counsel of his vassals. It's even more unlikely that he would speak to me before seeking them out. As such, one must conclude that Valdemar is already prepared to embark on a campaign in the Baltic. The sole remaining question is who he will select as his lieutenants.

This gave Vratislav some reassurance. Unlike the Danish gentry, he wore the armor of a title within the Holy Roman Empire, granting him privileges and protections that enhanced his value far beyond that of even more veteran Danish commanders. He was also young and charismatic, with a reputation for bravery, all sound characteristics for a captain. Lastly, Vratislav, while not terribly proficient in the seafaring style of combat favored by his hosts, had been involved in more landlocked skirmishes than practically anyone in Denmark. He had even been given charge of his father's train on a few occasions, and beaten off one or two ambushes. It would seem His Highness has finally heeded my counsel, the prince thought with a morbid sense of elation, And I am a man of my word. Are you watching father?

[Finland SSR]

Duchy of Lithuania

Fortress of Skuodas, Curonian Lands

A month has passed since the meeting of the dukes in Kernavė. Žvelgaitis warned them about the new threat from the West. Daumantas, the Duke of Dubysa and holder of most of the western lands of Lithuania, did not believe these new knights to be a threat. Besides, they landed far from the boundaries of the duchy, and it will take them years to become a threat.

What Daumantas was more concerned about the Duke of Lietava, Ryngold. He was the stronhest duke under Žvelgaitis, and he was Daumantas's fierce enemy. Daumantas wanted for the Balts to reject the Christian ways and push the Christians off Poland and Russia, while Ryngold was more strategic and seeked an agreement, perhaps gathering outside allies to consolidate his power.

Anyway, right now Daumantas's 5,000 troops were laying siege on the small realm of Skuodas, a Curonian county which was separated from it's brethren and stood in the way of his goal to reach the Western sea. Archers were shooting swarms of arrows at the defenders of the small fort, and rams, made from fallen trees, were banging the walls. Daumantas did not want to burn the wooden palisade. A castle in enemy lands is more worthy than a pile of ash.

One of the rams finally punched through one of the logs that made up the wall. Soldiers swarmed inside, and the defenders, around 400 of them, were quickly slaughtered. The chieftain, some Penikis, was captured and surrendered. The Western Sea was reached.