[SS/SV AAR] Heaven's Descent, Cyprus Reborn: A Crusader AAR (Updated 1/30)

[knin]

Gosh, obviously I need to comment more since today's chapter blew me out of the water again! Nice to see such a unique aspect of the events during a campaign, and I'm definitely loving the intrigue parts. Keep it up!

[Thokran]

Chapter XIX: A Merchant's Gamble

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

As Isabella Palaiologos made her way off the ship and onto the docks; she took note of her surroundings with great disgust.



Athens was once a great city; like Constantinople it too was once the center of the Greek world. Alas, the years had not been kind to this once-majestic city, which had been all but ransacked by various different invaders over the past millennia. The latest residents of Athens were the Venetians, greedy merchants looking to exploit what little left there was of this once-fertile region. The land was now barren and empty, with nothing more to give, and yet these foreigners still came expecting more.

Yet she had need of these hoarders. They supported her brother’s ascension to the throne, which in turn meant they supported her rule. She had made this trip if only to guarantee their support. There was only so much she could entrust that Cypriot diplomat with. Isabella was more than willing to give the Venetians whatever concessions they wanted over the Aegean. She had bigger plans, of which Greece or Anatolia played no major part in. Under her rule, the ‘Byzantine’ Empire would cease to exist, replaced in turn by a true Roman Empire based in Italy once more.

She needed the Venetian support if she wanted her ambitious plan to follow through. She needed many things to go her way to see her ambitions realized. Unfortunately, she would soon learn that already things were not going her way.

"What do you mean they left!?" she roared. "How could you let them go unopposed!?

Laurence winced as he was berated by an angry Isabella, who was livid upon hearing the news. He was going to be held accountable for this wrench in her plans, whether he liked it or not. He had to do anything, or say anything to prove his worth to her.

"Please, allow me to salvage this situation! They have yet to marry; we have more than enough opportunities to stop them from going through with this!" Laurence pleaded, but his words fell on deaf ears. Isabella was not having any of his excuses. Laurence could see the malicious glint in her eyes and knew then that his life was forfeit if he didn't do something quick. At any moment she could call in the guards to dispose of him once and for all.

"I'll call in a favor with the Venetians! They support you and will be glad to help us resolve this issue!" That seemed enough to stop Isabella's tirade, if only momentarily. She unsheathed a dagger and pressed the blade against Laurence's neck. She stared deep into the diplomat's eyes, as if she was gazing into his very soul with fiery judgment. When she spoke, her words sent shivers down his spine.

"See to it that you bring him back by any means necessary, or God help me I will flay the flesh off your worthless bones."

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It had been a month since leaving Constantinople, and Marcel was dismayed with the little progress they had made towards reaching Cyprus. He had joined the others in boarding passage towards Cyprus. Alas, they were just able to cross the Bosporus before their ships were cut off by an Ottoman fleet blockading any trade between the Black and Aegean Sea. Thus, they were forced to travel the rest of the way down along the coast of Anatolia in the dark of night, using the lighthouses dotted along the coastline as their guide.



After several weeks of avoiding Ottoman settlements in the region, they finally came across a town they could rest and regroup at, the Genoese port of Mytilin. Marcel was anything but enthusiastic to be in another Genoese town. The memories of being run out of Caffa were still fresh in his head, and he feared that someone would recognize him and seek to persecute him. Philip had travelled to Mytilin before, and knew of some priests who could offer them a place to stay at their monastery. While Philip and the new guy Richard went about trying to find passage to Cyprus, Marcel kept his head low and tried to keep his identity hidden. The last thing he needed was to be run out of another town.



At times, he contemplated why he continued to follow his cleric friend around. Of course, the answer was obvious: the prospect of riches. Though the princess he traveled with was the daughter of a poor King, she still held some sense of influence throughout the courts of Eastern Europe, and that had to hold some sort of value that can result in monetary growth. So when he had learned that Richard was the heir to the Angevin throne in Naples, there was no way he was going to miss out on such a lucrative opportunity.

Yes, there was the fact that Philip was his friend and that this trip had suddenly turned into one big adventure, but the true motivation was always money, and Marcel was eager to find a way to make this journey as profitable as possible. It was one thing to search for profit alongside the princess of a bankrupt Kingdom. It was something completely different to be the financial manager to the future King of Naples, a kingdom known for its rich trade in the center of the Mediterranean.

Marcel's plan was to grow close to Richard, and use his friendship as an avenue to gain a powerful position in his new administration. With such a powerful ally, he would never again have to worry about financial woes, or fear being chased out of towns by hungry loan sharks. As the days passed by, Marcel grew more daring and stayed out for longer each day to try to foster a friendship with the Englishman.

One day, he finally mustered up the courage to spend the whole day out on the town, and much to his relief he wasn’t recognized by any of the townsfolk. As he gazed out into the sunset, he felt confident that everything would go according to plan, and that in short time he would be rich.



Alas, the Genoese would be the least of his issues.

"So Richard, tell me about England!" Marcel said one day as he followed him on the way back to the monastery. They had spent another unsuccessful day at port, looking to find any ship willing to sail to Cyprus in vain. If this kept up, they would be force to brave the rest of the Anatolian coast to reach Sis hundreds of miles away, with no semblance of refuge in between. That would be their last resort.

Richard seemed disinterested in speaking Marcel. The merchant feared that Richard may have already learned of his intentions in trying to make conversation, and thus made a better effort to sound like a genuine friend.

"Oh come now, don't be shy. I may know how to weasel my customers to strike a profit, but I’m not so much a degenerate to do the same to a friend. Tell me of your journey to Constantinople! How did you find the long trip?"

Again Richard remained silent, and Marcel grew impatient. He tried one more time.

"How do you feel about the position you're in? What are you going to do whe-"

He stopped short as his words were drowned out by the thunderous roar of cannon fire. All around him, the townsfolk went into a panic. Mytilin was besieged!



“Run for your lives!”

“The Venetians lay siege!”

It was complete bedlam, as the quiet streets quickly swelled up into a frenzy of panic. People were running everywhere, left and right, shouting and yelling and pushing their way through the crowd they formed. Marcel was quickly swept up in the swarm of bodies, and felt consumed by the chaos. He could barely breathe in this confined space as bodies pushed him around like a ragdoll in their mad dash to reach safety. He struggled to keep his head above the crowd, so that he didn’t suffocate under the smothering mass. Next to him, a poor old hag was unable to stay standing and as soon trampled underfoot by the panicked crowd.

Marcel was determined not to share such a similar fate, and used all of his strength to force his way into a nearby alleyway, where he could breathe and move freely once more. As he looked back into the crowd, he could see the grisly remains of those poor folk who were unable to resist the tide of people milling about and were trampled to death. He strained his eyes, searching for Richard somewhere in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found.

Marcel cursed, having been separated from his future cash cow, but he could do nothing about it. If Richard was still alive, he would no doubt be headed to the monastery. That was where Marcel would head to as well. He dashed through the cramped alleys, doing well to avoid the madness of the main roads. As he made his way north through the town, the madness seemed to die down, as most of the townsfolk were headed south towards the harbor. Of course, this meant that Marcel was actually headed towards the enemy, which continued to lay down suppressive cannon fire from the north side of town.

As he made his way toward the monastery, he noted several regiments of peasant militia forming up ranks in an attempt to halt the Venetian advance. They were brave souls, Marcel would give them that. Foolish souls, but brave nevertheless.



The monastery lay on the north side of town. From the short time he had spent there, Marcel knew well enough that none of the clergy there would abandon their position. If Richard did indeed go there to pick up the others and flee, then at least the priests would know where they would have gone off to. Marcel could not lose them, not now. Richard was too valuable to him.

The cries of battle could be heard nearby, indicating that the Venetians had broken through the gates, and that the town garrison was engaging them. Venice and Genoa for years had harbored a fierce rivalry for supreme mercantile dominance over the Aegean and Black Sea. However most of their skirmishes were naval in nature, as neither side wished to risk an expensive siege on a fortified center of trade. Thus, this sudden attack on Mytilin was nothing short of unusual.



As Marcel turned the corner, he came face to face with the battle at hand raging across the north gate plaza. Genoese cavalry charged headlong into Venetian pikes, while the town’s crossbowmen tried desperately to match the Venetian gunpowder weaponry. There was no way he could go through such a kill zone. But across the plaza, he could see a clear path straight to the monastery. This was his only path to the monastery if he held out any hope of catching up with his hopes of becoming rich. But how was he to get over there without getting killed in the process?

At that moment, his thoughts were drowned out by the sound of gunfire, which mowed down a great number of the crossbowmen standing in front of him by the entrance to the plaza. Marcel peeked out of his corner momentarily to see the Venetians reloading their guns. This was his chance and he knew it.
Muttering a quick prayer, he made a mad dash for the monastery, hoping to God that it would be worth it in the end. He made it through the plaza just in the nick of time, as he was able to avoid an unrelenting hail of bullets that went ricocheting off the walls behind him.
He made it through unscathed. Ahead of him, he could see the monastery standing proud against an idyllic seaside background, the glorious end to his daring jaunt through the city streets of Mytilin.



Marcel couldn’t help but feel proud at his daring charge through the line of fire. Greed sure does bring out the courage in him. Alas, his self-appreciation would be all for naught as he finally reached the monastery and was surrounded by Venetian pikes hovering mere inches away from his face. At the entrance to the monastery, he could see the Venetian troops holding Philip, Marie and Richard in captivity.

This was…interesting, to say the least. He never expected the Venetians to have been after them. What quarrel did they have with a group of Cypriots and an Englishman? Unless their quarrel was with him instead, that would make things interesting. Marcel had more than a few run ins with the Venetians in the past, and none of them had ever been really favorable toward him, hence why he always chose to do business with the Genoese up until recently. If the Venetians were after him, then things surely wouldn’t be pretty. Knowing this, he tried to make light of the situation.

“So, nice day we have here for a siege. Nothing like using towns for target practice with those cannons of yours, eh?”

His joke fell flat with his captors, who quickly proceeded to bag their heads. One hilt strike to the back of the head later, and Marcel was knocked out.

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When he came to, he was enshrouded in darkness. The only light seemed to come from cracks of sunlight that shined down from above. Where was he? The wood and the stench of defecation could mean only one place, the brig of a merchant ship. Was he at sea though? It didn’t seem like it.

Next thing he knew, soldiers were dragging his body out of the brig and out into the brightness of day, where he was unceremoniously dumped along the sandy shores of some unknown coastline. Marcel shielded his eyes from the blinding light, until his eyes could adjust to the glaring sunlight. As they adjusted, he could make out Marie, Philip, and Richard all on their knees next to him. Then someone began to speak.



“Welcome to Negroponte!”

Marcel knew that voice. It was unmistakable. But how? What was he doing in league with the Venetians?

“Enjoy the view while you can. You have some powerful friends waiting for you in Athens, and I doubt they’ll be letting you see the sunshine anytime soon.”

“W…who are you? What do you want with us?” Richard stammered out, clearly shaken up by the ordeal.

“I’m just a businessman doing my job, that’s all.” The man replied casually. “My men noticed you weren’t doing so well in the brig, so we brought you out to get some fresh air. I can’t have my cargo dying on me now.”

“You’re a sick man!” Richard cried out. “How can you do this to us!?” Richard was in clear distress at this point, showing that he did not do well under pressure.

“Sick?” the man seemed confused now. “But I brought you out for fresh air! My men here are going to feed you! Am I not kind for not letting you suffocate in that brig?” He was taunting now, and it drove Richard mad. He struggled against the chains that bound his hands together, in hopes of getting free, to no avail.

“Who the hell are you!? When I get my hands on you!!” Richard showed surprising amounts of strength in his fit of anger, but he only ended up overexerting himself, and he soon collapsed onto the sand, panting for breath. Philip and Marie remained silent. The priest seemed at a loss for words and the princess looked so lost in her own misery as to seem apathetic to the current situation.

“My my, what a rambunctious one he is.” The man went on, watching on with a bemused expression. Marcel knew this man, but he had refused to acknowledge him until now. He did not want his rival to recognize him. But the situation was dire now. These mercenaries were sending them to some bad people who for whatever reason wanted to inflict them harm. He had to say something to get them out of this bind. If he didn’t speak up now, he’d surely spend the rest of his days locked up in a cell instead of bathing in Richard’s future riches. He couldn’t let his dreams of endless fortune die, not like this.

“Federico de Spinola, since when have you been in the human trafficking business?” Marcel spoke up, and his voice immediately caught the attention of the merchant, whose neck shot back toward him.



“Could it really be?” Federico began. “Is that you, Marcel? Oh, what a small world we live in!” Marcel grimaced. Federico’s words stung, for he shared a long history with the man. Federico was once his mentor. It was Federico who had given Marcel his first start as a merchant in Northern Italy. But when Marcel wanted to strike it rich on his own, he turned his back on Federico, who never lived it down when Marcel ran off with one of his gratuitous loans to start his business in Caffa.

“It’s been too long, Marcel. We really should catch up, but business always comes first. Now, I believe you owe me something…” Marcel knew what Federico was talking about, and he knew that now again was his time to act.

“Yes, the loan…about that…”

“You do have my money, don’t you Marcel? I’d hate to hear that you ended up squandering it all…” Federico was now circling Marcel, clicking his boots against the sand as he did so.

“Of course, old friend! I do sincerely apologize for running out on you all those years ago, but I had a dream of striking it big, and now I have!” Marcel began. This was it. His bluff had to work, or it’d be all over for him. “I’ve taken what you gave me and turned it into profit nearly fifty-fold!”

“Fifty-fold, you say?” Federico was genuinely intrigued now. Money always intrigued him. “And how is it that I haven’t heard anything of this?”

“You always told me the best way to make a profit is to keep quiet about it, lest the leeches come to steal your business. I’ve made big deals out East, out by Nicosia and Sis with these fine folk next to me. We’ve found silver deposits in Cyprus that the Mamluks and Timurids are buying from us at exorbitant rates!” Marcel was really laying the story on thick now. “And the best thing is, we’ve kept it under wraps. We’re not going to let Cyprus become overcrowded with competition like Caffa’s slave trade has become.”

“Is that so?” Federico pondered, folding his arms as he came face to face with Marcel. “Last I heard, you were being run out of Caffa.”

Marcel gulped. He knew of his whereabouts, at least to some extent. But he couldn’t give up on the story he was fabricating now. If he was found out, he’d be killed on the spot.

“Yes, it was a sad misunderstanding. The Genoese up there have become jaded with their slave trade. I tried making deals with them, you know, to expand our market and buyers, and they go and run us out of town! We were at Mytilin hoping to have better luck there when you and your cronies suddenly arrived.”

Federico now stayed quiet in contemplation for a few moments, processing the story he had just received, before speaking again.

“Huh, I can’t tell if you’re full of it or not. You’ve always been a weasel Marcel, never to be trusted. But if what you’re saying is on the off chance true, what are you willing to offer me? My employers haven’t told me much about who your friends are or why they want you so bad, and honestly I don’t care. What I do know is that they paid me a sizable sum to bring you all in. So what are you willing to offer?”

“I’ll double whatever they’ve offered you. It’s the least I can do for an old friend who I owe so much of my success to!” Marcel countered. Inside, his hopes soared that he may just have been able to talk himself out of what was surely to be a grim fate for them all.

“Make that triple, and I let you guys return to your business in Cyprus-“

“It’s a deal!”

“On one condition!” Federico shot back, dashing any of Marcel’s hopes of a successful escape. Conditions were always bad. “I need some collateral to make sure your friends here see me well paid, and it’s been far too long since we’ve spent time together. You’ll stay with me, and we’ll…catch up while we wait for your friends to return. I have a lovely place in Negroponte, and I’m sure you’ll…enjoy your stay.”

At that moment, Marcel’s heart plummeted. This was it; the end of the road. Marcel looked over to Philip and the others with a pleading look, but was met with expressionless faces, lacking any sort of empathy for his plight. They would not return for him. Marie’s face all but assured it.

“We are all in accord, then! Men, release the others! Give them one of our smaller ships to cross the sea with! Let them know what price I’m asking for.” Federico called out, and his men obliged, releasing Marcel’s companions and leading them to a nearby boat. Federico turned his gaze back towards Marcel, staring him down dead in the eye.

“You better hope your friends come back with my gold, or God help you I will hunt them down to the ends of the earth and see the debt paid in blood…starting with yours.”

Marcel gulped again, knowing deep down he had gotten himself into something he may never come out of alive. He looked out again and saw the ship setting out to sea. He knew then and there that would be the last time he’d see any of his ‘friends’ again.

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Elsewhere, winter took its time to leave the forests of Wallachia. Vlad Dracul gazed out from his balcony over the lake behind his castle estate. He grumbled, knowing that spring should have arrived already. The climate did not bode well with him, for a long winter was an ill omen for the rest of the year. The year had barely begun and already he was forced to deal with internal strife as more and more men arrived to his court, seeking to claim the title of Prince of Wallachia for themselves.



He missed having company over. The Cypriot diplomatic mission that passed through his Court the year before were an odd bunch to be sure, but they seemed to bring life to a Court otherwise stagnant with internal power struggles. Their presence had allowed him to keep his mind off of those scheming plotters, and focus instead on the growing threat of Ottomans in the region. It was a welcome change of pace, one he greatly missed now.

He wouldn’t have to wait long for company, however. Off in the distance, the corner of his eye caught sight of movement in the trees. As Vlad turned his attention to the disturbance, he could make sight of the men moving through the trees! Soldiers! He was about to sound the alarm and ready the defenses when he realized that these were not Ottoman soldiers, but Roman soldiers. From the look of it, they looked tired, battered and beaten.

Vlad went to meet these exhausted troops with his powerful retinue of knights, not wanting to take any chances. When he approached the men, he could see just how weak and broken they were. They would pose no threat, but their leader remained nowhere to be found.

“Who is your commander? Who do you fight for?” He asked to the nearest soldier.

“We fought for Theodoros Palaiologos, son of the late Emperor Manuel Palaiologos. Our Lord Theodoros fell in battle against the Ottomans months ago. Their armies crushed us.”

“Months?” This was unexpected news. “Then who is your acting commander now? How have you managed to come this far north intact?”

“Milord, we were led here by one who you know of. When our Lord fell, he became the man of the hour, and led us to safety. He guided us through hidden valleys the Ottomans didn’t know about. Were it not for him, we’d be ruined.”

This did not help Dracul. Someone he knew? There were not a lot of Wallachians who knew the hidden passages these soldiers spoke of. Who could it be?”

“What is this man’s name?”

“It’s been awhile, Count Dracul. I hope you don’t mind my return, but my men and I are in desperate need of your hospitality.”

The voice was unmistakable.

[Robin de Bodemloze]

Wooo!! Gilbert is alive!!

Intriguing indeed - and unexpectedly chivalrous of Marcel there, however unintended it may have been

[Radzeer]

Indeed, Gilbert's return was surprising but welcome!

I have to tell that I sense a shift in your storytelling angle.
Makuria was quite campaign-based, the Teutons were more character-based, but still a lot of campaign, then Aragon was very much character-based with hints about the campaign and now this is almost no campaign! And excellently written in that! If not many questions are asked about the campaign, it means that people are drawn in by the story itself. Very good job!

[Thokran]

@Maltacus: Thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it. I really enjoy crafting a story out of the agents in the game, because they provide more mobility and opportunity in stories than say a general besieging a neighboring settlement. It also gives me the opportunity to create some interesting characters, like Isabella. She is quite dreadful, isn't she?

@Latin Knight: Thank you! I guess it does play out like a novel as it progresses, I hadn't really thought of it. Then again, I've always been more interested in creating the story aspect of an AAR over the recounting of events part. And yes, poor Marie just never gets a break, does she? Hopefully things won't be all doom and gloom from her from here on out.

@robinzx: Yes, Gilbert's alive and kicking! If all goes well, I have plans for him in the future. As for Marcel, I found it ironic writing out his unintended bit of chivalry in the pursuit of gold. I like his character, so this may not be the last you see of him!

@knin: Glad you're enjoying it! I hope to maintain the quality of the story and make it as riveting as I can as it progresses. Thanks!

@Radzeer: You know, I never really noticed it that way, but I can see it as well. I;m using the campaign less as a strict path to follow and more as a general guideline of sorts. I guess I've slowly just been trying to develop my creative writing skills to the point where one day I won't need a campaign to guide a story. Thanks for pointing that out, and for supporting the AAR!

Also, I've gone and edited the original post, to clarify the difference between the first 1220 section of the AAR, and the current 1400 story. It's more for new readers, but I figured I might as well let it be known now.

[Thokran]

Chapter XX: Homeward Bound

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Marie felt no pity for the man she had just left to die. Regardless of what everyone else was thinking, she had no intent to return with any of the nonexistent gold Marcel had promised to that Venetian merchant. He was a fool for opening his mouth in the first place, and now he would suffer for it. It served him right after all the trouble had caused them in Caffa. While she could understand why Philip wanted to help his old friend, Marie shared none of the priest’s sentiments. Some people don’t deserve to be saved.

Yes, Marie was bitter, but she was not coldhearted. Deep down she hoped Marcel found a way to weasel his way out his predicament; he was always good at that. Nevertheless, she remained bitter and silent as they made their uneventful return to Nicosia, where she would marry a man she cared nothing for.



Days had passed since they left the shores of Negroponte. The Venetian sailors that manned the crew were an odd bunch. These men, who at one point were their captors, now acted like they were old friends or something, more than willing to transport them to Cyprus. It’s funny what the promise of riches can do to change men.

Marie sat by the bow of the ship, feeling the sea spray cool her skin as the ship cut through the waves of the Aegean. It was a beautiful day, with clear blue skies and fresh breeze that always seem to her down. It was hard to remain upset when faced with such wonderful aesthetics. This was her escape from reality, where she could simply embrace the moment and not have to worry about anything else.

In the distance, she could make out a small village as they sailed along the southern coast of Anatolia. Surely it was another village the Ottomans had taken as their own. From what the sailors told her, the village was an old Armenian settlement called Milas. But as the ship got closer, the crew was surprised to see the banner that hung over the village.

It was banner of the Kingdom of Cyprus.

This sighting caused great confusion among those onboard. Even the Venetian sailors seemed confused at this unexpected banner hanging high over this insignificant village. Curiosity got the better of them, and they decided to sail into port and see what had transpired in Milas. As Marie and the others would soon learn, much had changed in their absence.



Marie turned from the bow to see her ‘fiancée’ preparing an expedition on land. Marie could see right through him, for all the bravado he tried to put up, she can see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes. It was the same fear that gripped him when they were captured by Federico’s mercenaries. Still, she guessed she could commend him for putting up the farce so well to keep the others’ spirits high.

As they reached the docks, Richard seemed hesitant to debark. Marie sighed; his bravado was indeed a farce, and his hesitance showed just how much of a coward he was. Marie, on the other hand, held no fear of the unknown within the sleepy village. If it was indeed an Ottoman ambush, then she’d be run through by some spear or sword, and she’d be rid of her misery once and for all. And so she took the initiative and jumped off the ship, ahead of everyone else, much to Richard’s panic.

“Where are you going, Marie!? It’s far too dangerous!” he cried out.

She didn’t care. While she wasn’t out looking to get herself killed, she was genuinely curious to discover what was going on inside the village, and she simply wasn’t afraid of the consequences. She had gone through too much to be afraid anymore.

She could hear Richard run after her. Perhaps he did have some sort of courage in his heart. She picked up her pace, not wanting to put up with his chiding patronization. In doing so, she turned the corner into the village in haste and immediately ran into a host of armored troops. She crashed into them like a brick wall and fell to the floor in a daze. As she cleared her head, she looked up to look upon the last person she expected to see.



“John!?”

“Marie?” the Prince of Cyprus said back. “What are you doing out here, sister?”

In that moment, whatever resentment she held toward her family faded away as she was swept up in pure emotion. She hadn’t seen her brother in almost six years, and for once she felt as if she was almost home. Instinctively, she threw herself into his arms and broke down in a fit of sobs. She missed her brother. She missed her family. She missed home.

Richard and the others finally caught up, swords at the ready. They too came to a halt upon seeing the Prince. The sailors stared on in dumbfounded confusion, but Richard and a few of his men were smart enough to kneel before the Prince, as a show of respect.

“Milord!” he began. “We hadn’t expected to see you here. I am Richard Tanlay, heir to the Angevin throne and the fiancée to your beloved sister. It is an honor to finally meet you in person.”

“Yes…a pleasure to meet you too…” John replied, clearly put in an awkward position. “This is an unlikely meeting. When we saw your ships sail in, we expected a naval assault from the Ottomans using a transport ship as a decoy.”

“Blessed be to God that it was just us, then!” Richard proclaimed, laughing heartily as if hoping to lighten the situation. It didn’t.

“Yes, but let us hold off on the introductions for now. The rains will be coming soon and this village has been known to be subject to flooding. Let us return to Rhodes where we may continue this conversation in comfort and safety.”

Rhodes? Much had changed while Marie and Philip were gone.



As Prince John had predicted, the rains had flooded the fields around Milas. While the villagers who lived there were used to such rain waters, it made campaigning along that stretch of coastline all but impossible for John and his men. As John would go on to explain upon their return to Rhodes, much had transpired during Marie’s diplomatic mission around the Black Sea.

Around a year or so after her departure from Sis, John received an urgent distress letter from the Grandmaster of the Knights Hospitaller. The Ottomans, led by their Sultan Bayezid, had organized a siege against the Hospitaller Headquarters at Rhodes, and they were in desperate need of relief. John, knowing this to be a gamble, chose to lead the relief effort on Rhodes, knowing full well that although he was taking critical troops away needed for the defense of Sis, in doing so he would gain the full support of the Knights Hospitaller should he emerge successful.

In a brutal battle fought outside the walls of Rhodes, Bayezid and his forces were routed back to the sea, retreating back to the mainland. It was a costly victory, one that cost the Grandmaster his life. But John’s men were high on momentum, and they quickly pursued the Sultan. If John could bring about the Sultan’s death, then it would herald a victory for Christianity unseen in over a century!





John and his men pursued Bayezid to Milas, where they were joined by a series of local Armenian knights, seeking to liberate their village from Ottoman rule. Together with this Armenian force of cavalry, John faced off against Bayezid once more, wounding the Sultan and forcing him to retreat to the formidable Iznik Castle at Smyrna. John had meant to meet him there for one final engagement, but the floodwaters and attrition slowed his advance. His men were exhausted from fighting, and he had suffered heavy casualties.

Even so, in retreating John had not only won the island of Rhodes, he had earned Cyprus a small beachhead in southwestern Anatolia in capturing the village of Milas. Bayezid would die the following year, although it remained unknown whether it was due to old age or his wounds. His death consolidated Cypriot control of the region, and ever since John and his men had been hard at work for the last several years shoring up their defenses; the last thing they needed was to lose their hard-earned gains against the Ottomans so quickly after attaining them.

Indeed, much had changed in the last few years.

Their stay in Rhodes lasted several months. Shortly after arriving, Marie fell sick with a fever that seemed to linger on for weeks. She remained bedridden at first, unable to leave the castle; much less make the last leg of the journey to Cyprus. During that time, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Although she occasionally allowed Philip or her brother to visit her, she absolutely refused to let Richard into her quarters. She wanted nothing to do with that man, as she was still stubbornly against any notion of marrying him. So despite Richard’s dogged efforts day by day to see her, he was constantly denied visitation rights.

As time passed, so too did her fever, and Marie was able to move about freely through the castle grounds once more. She still kept to herself, preferring to be left alone so that she could appreciate her surroundings once more. Rhodes was a beautiful island, one Marie set out to explore as her health bettered. On more than one occasion, she would simply peer out into the Mediterranean, embracing the cool sea breeze of summer and getting lost in the beauty of the moment.



Alas, the time would come when Marie would have to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Nothing had really changed from her fever. She was still set to marry Richard in Nicosia. But at the very least, she may have begun to accept her fate. Even so, she was determined to argue with her father to the very end about cancelling the marriage.

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She would do so just two months later upon her arrival at Nicosia. Her father seemed ecstatic to see her, even though the sentiment wasn’t shared. King Jaques could see the fire in his daughter’s eyes, and quickly brought her into his personal chambers to see what was on her mind.



“What troubles you, my daughter? Are you not happy to be home again?”

“How could you!” she retorted, shedding away any pretense of cordiality. “How could you go and tell me who I am to marry!”

“Marie, I am your father. I want what’s best for yo-“

“Who are you tell me what’s best for me?” she was livid now, red in the face. “You haven’t even seen me in six years! You don’t know what’s best for me, only what’s best for your stupid Kingdom!”

“I am your father!” he shot back, his voice booming now. “And this is to be your kingdom one day!”

“No, it’s going to be John’s kingdom one day! But if you’re going to be sending me across the world as your diplomatic lap dog, then at the very least you can let me decide what I think is best for me!”

Something snapped in the King then, as if he could no longer tolerate his daughter’s disrespect towards his authority.

“You will do as I say because I AM YOUR KING!!” he exploded, the force of which sent Marie reeling to the floor. “And you will serve your King dutifully by marrying who I tell you to marry; if not for your own good, then for the good of the Kingdom!”

That was all Marie needed to hear. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she realized her father would not budge for her. Her fate was sealed, and there was little else she could do about it.

“So that’s how it is, then…”she began, her voice nearly a hiss. “Very well then, my King. I will marry Lord Richard Tanlay as the dutiful daughter of Cyprus that I am.”

“Indeed you will! How dare you defy my authorit-“

“But know full well that in doing so,” she rudely cut him off, determined to make a point. “You will lose the only daughter you have. Enjoy the future of your Kingdom!” And with that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Her relationship with her father was never again the same. For months she refused to speak with him, much to his frustration. When the King tried to use Philip or John as a way to reach out to her, she ceased speaking to them as well. She spoke only to her handmaids, and surprisingly enough, her fiancé Richard. She figured she might as well get used to his idle chatter if she was going to be hearing it for years to come.



The actual marriage was a rather quaint affair, as the King lacked the resources to spend on a lavish ceremony. Nevertheless, Marie hated every second of it. Philip could see the scorn in her eyes as he presided over the ceremony, overseeing the recital of their wedding vows. Meanwhile, next to her Richard seemed ecstatic, as if God had blessed him with a woman he ‘loved’ to be his newly-wedded wife. Did he not realize the contempt she held for him? Philip pitied Marie and Richard, knowing that they would surely share an unhappy future together. Alas, such was the price of being a servant to the King.

Those days that followed the wedding were dark times for Marie. In fulfilling her wifely duties, she had to endure Richard’s laborious efforts on top of her. That first sexual endeavor was a traumatic experience, but thankfully a short one, as Richard yet again seemed to have overexerted himself in the process. She was grateful for his natural frailty, as it kept him away from her bed. Nevertheless, it did little to waive away her depression.

Over the course of the next few months, Marie began to grow accustomed to her new role, though not once did she ever enjoy it. She simply became numb to it all. Sadness was a normal emotion now, as any shred of happiness she once had had all but vanished. Even so, she was beginning to get used to life back at home. Barring her unhappy marriage, it was nice to be home after such a grueling journey she had endured across the Eastern Mediterranean.



That would all change one day, when Richard was speaking with the King about his new role in the Kingdom. Apparently, Richard sought to rule Rhodes as the new Grandmaster of the Hospitallers. Mentally, Marie scoffed at the idea. Richard, being the weak and frail man he was, had no place being a Grandmaster of such an illustrious Order of Knights. The Hospitallers needed someone strong, someone brave, someone willing to give anything – their life included – to advance their noble cause. Someone like…

She buried the thought, for she refused to bring up that name. All that painful memory ever did was hurt her more. She instead decided to listen in on what her father had to say on the issue.

“My dear son-in-law, as much as I’d love to give you lordship over Rhodes, I simply must deny you.” For once her father seemed to be talking with some common sense. Of course, she had yet to hear what else he had to say.

“After all,” Jaques continued “You are the heir to the Angevin throne! I would have you return to Naples and take what’s rightfully yours with my daughter at your side!”

Marie’s eyes widened as she turned towards her father? Had he gone mad? Was he to send her out on yet another voyage to far off lands? How insensitive was he!? She motioned to speak, but the look in his quickly silenced her. He remained stalwart and unfazed by her demeanor. She would have no say in this matter, as this was the King’s will.

Richard looked on in awe, as if he wasn’t expecting this announcement from the King. For someone who claimed to be the heir to the throne, he definitely showed no great desire to go out and claim it.
“I...it would be honor, my King. I am humbled by your support.”

“Then it is settled!” The King proclaimed. “You shall set out by the end of the week!”

Marie had no words for her father’s decision. She just looked on with scornful eyes, forcing herself to hold back her tears. She would not show her father any weakness. She would not give him the pleasure of seeing the pain she felt at this decision. She walked out of the throne room without another word. The decision was made.



King Jaques simply looked on as John and Philip went to go check on her. It pained him to see his daughter so distraught, even if he didn’t show it. Despite being the King of Cyprus, he was still a father, and he hated to be the one to cause his daughter pain.

Alas, he was still a King in dire straits and a precarious position at best. He was in desperate need of financial and military support, and in even more need of allies. Having his son-in-law as the new King of Naples would be just the ally he needed to continue funding his efforts against the tide of Islam that swelled around the Kingdom of Cyprus. Knowing that, he was more than willing to sacrifice one girl’s happiness for the good of the realm.


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Elsewhere…

“Laurence, clean up this mess.” Isabella called out nonchalantly as she lounged about her palatial bedchambers in the Blachernae palace of Constantinople.



Before her, lying in a pool of blood was the body of Federico Spinola, the merchant who had sold her out and released her husband-in-waiting. She amused herself cleaning her bloodied dagger while the diplomat busied himself cleaning up the mess she had made.

“My dear Laurence, remind me why I keep you around again? I am not a fan of failures, you know.”

“My Lady, I apologize for this blunder!” he pleaded as he tried to clean up the pool of blood congealing before him. “But we can still salvage this!”

“Yes, I know we can. It’s the only reason you are still alive.” She replied, looking on as the diplomat stained his satin cloths with Venetian blood. “I need your Angevin contacts now more than ever. Make sure they are more reliable than this incompetent bag of meat before me.” She said, motioning to Federico’s corpse.

“Cyprus is a backwater.” Laurence continued, trying to maintain his composure as his clothing was smeared with blood; this was grotesque work for a diplomat. “No one of worth will truly acknowledge a marriage from there. If they do intend to take the throne of Naples, then we will be able to intercept them and deal with them accordingly. Their marriage will be annulled, and you’ll be free to do with Richard as you please.”

“That better be the case, Laurence. I’d hate to turn this dagger on you for failing me again.”

At that moment, one of Isabella’s attendants entered the room. The look on her attendant's face told her that she had unwelcome news to report.

“My lady, your brother’s army has returned.”

Isabella's eyes widened. No, it couldn't be. She rushed to the window to look down at the Theodosian walls, where the army would have been stationed. There was no one there.



"My lady," the attendant continued. "They are already within the city, meeting with your uncle." This was bad news. Had Theodoros caught wind of her plans? Did her younger brother plan to reveal her plot to the Emperor?

“Theodoros!?" But how? I made sure to compromise his movements to the Ottomans; surely they should have killed him by now.”

“They are not led by Theodoros.” The attendant replied, indicating that her brother had indeed been dealt with. Isabella sighed in relief, knowing that her brother had been properly disposed of. Still, that left her to wonder, who was leading these troops?

“They are led by an Italian, a Hospitaller Knight by the name of Gilberto di Fonte. He is requesting an audience with the Imperial Family as we speak.”

Isabella was now definitely intrigued by this sudden turn of events. Who was this hero-captain, leading armies he had no business with in the first place? What was a crusader doing meddling in her affairs?

“Laurence, do you know this man?” she wondered aloud.

The diplomat tensed up. This was the last thing he needed now. There was no way Gilbert could have survived that charge he led his men to so long ago. To believe that he not only survived, but managed to lead the Imperial Army back to Constantinople was simply surreal.
Then again, maybe this wasn’t a bad thing. Perhaps Gilbert could serve Isabella’s cause in his own way. He was a wild card at best for now, but perhaps if he was told that the woman he nearly gave his life for had gone and married some English bastard, then he might be swayed to serve another lady’s cause instead…

Only time would tell, but it was definitely worth a shot.

“In fact, my lady, I do know who he is.”

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Later that night…

Gilbert stood at a loss for words. What was it all for? He had spent years fighting Ottomans and avoiding capture and death, all to one day reach this city and be reunited with Marie and the others. But he had arrived too late, for he learned that Marie had not only left Constantinople, but had gone on to marry someone! It devastated him.

“I must go after them, and see for myself!” his voice showed desperation, as if he was still in denial.

“You know you can’t do that yet.” Isabella cooed. “You’ve suffered grave wounds on the road. You need your rest.” She had invited Gilbert into one of her several bedchambers, offering him an extended stay within the palace as her guest. There, she offered to personally clean his wounds, for he had accumulated many of them on his grueling journey through enemy territory.

She had been the one to break the news to him that Marie had been engaged to Richard. She could see how awfully distraught Gilbert seemed over it all; the Cypriot whore that had stolen her man must have meant something great to him. As she dabbed his arm with the washcloth, she could feel how tense his muscles were. Upon further examination, she noted that he was quite the physical specimen; definitely easy on the eyes.

“But...”

“What’s done is regrettably done. We’ve both been hurt by this turn of events…to believe that my fiancée would run off with the woman you were vowed to protect.” She went on, playing up the sympathy card. She wanted to show Gilbert that she could relate with his pain, even if in reality Richard’s actions were more of an inconvenience than anything else; that’s how sure she was of her ultimate plans. As for this Gilbert…every woman needs their form of recreation, and she was determined to make the Knight Captain her latest pursuit.

“I’m sorry for your loss, my lady. You are too kind to have me here, and too humble to attend to me in such a personable manner.”

“Oh, shush.” She interrupted him, flashing him a smile as he winced in slight pain from one of his wounds.

“It’s my pleasure to have you here. It’s…nice to have someone who can relate to my pain. I’m glad to have met you.”

She looked deep into his eyes, as she dropped the washcloth and placed her hand over his, caressing his calloused fingers. Something overcame Gilbert at that moment, who felt mesmerized staring back into her emerald eyes. She was a beautiful sight to behold, with silky smooth auburn hair simply rolling effortlessly off her bare shoulders. Something about her touch suddenly felt exhilarating and irresistible.

“…Come now. Let us share some wine. It should help numb the pain, both those of yours wounds and that of our hearts…”



Her words were like a sweet embrace. He could not resist her.

He didn't want to resist her.

[Robin de Bodemloze]

Sublime. I love the way you mould the characters as the story progresses. Much intrigue clearly awaits

[Thokran]

Thanks, robinzx. I'm trying to invest an appropriate amount of time developing these characters in accordance with their importance to the overall story. I hope it to be something that develops naturally throughout the AAR's progress.

Anyways, so far I've been able to get updates up every other day or so, but with Superbowl Weekend and some papers to write for Tuesday, I might be a day or two off. Thankfully I've already mapped out what to write, I just need to get around doing it. Thanks again everyone for the support, feedback, and patience; you have no idea how much I appreciate it!

[Thokran]

Chapter XXI: The Angevin Plot

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Isabella stirred to find herself alone in her bedchambers. Where had Gilbert gone? For months, she had played host to the Knight Captain’s stay at the palace. He had become the talk of the town for his heroic endeavors against the Ottomans. In public, he acted as military escort to Laurence, the liaison of Romano-Cypriot relations. In private though, he served her in a much more intimate manner. Gilbert was a ravishing lover, who satisfied her in ways she never thought possible. He was everything she expected of him, and then some. So why wasn’t he around when her body desired him so greatly?



Gilbert made his way through the streets of Constantinople, with no general destination in mind. The markets were busier than usual today, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was lost in his own thoughts. The past few months had seemed to him like nothing more than a blur. Ever since he learned of Marie’s marriage to Richard Tanlay, he had fallen into depression, and had resorted to drink to ease the pain of the blow. Wine was not his only companion in this somber time, for he also had Isabella, who had lost Richard to this marriage. He valued her companionship, as he stunning looks and alluring presence kept him warm on those lonely nights, allowing him to focus on her if only to not focus on what really troubled him.

Nevertheless, as satisfying as it was physically, Gilbert remained emotionally vacant, as if he lacked the will to invest his heart into anything. Isabella was a beautiful woman with a fiery passion and sexual appetite. Moreover, she was someone he could relate to; but something was missing. Something just didn’t feel right about it all; like if he needed to get to the bottom of something. It was such a perplexing contradiction of emotions and desires, leaving Gilbert pensive and confused. All he wanted were some answers.

Little did he expect for his answers to come from a dark alleyway in the slums of Constantinople. As Gilbert walked away from the market to an emptier part of the city’s ruins, he was suddenly assailed! Five men cloaked and armed with daggers, immediately set upon him, giving him no time to unsheathe his sword. He was certain of his death, believing these men to be assassins. Alas, the death blow never came.

“It’s about time we talked, Captain Gilbert. I have much to tell you, and much to discuss with you.”



Gilbert recognized the voice. It was the voice of Isabella’s younger brother, Andronicus.

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Richard labored to catch his breath as he made his way to the top of a long, winding slope. At the top, he could make sight of his destination, the fortifications of Corinth. Joined by his wife Marie, the priest Philip and his own personal retinue of knights, he had set out from Nicosia weeks before to reach Southern Greece. He was on a mission to stake his claim to the Angevin throne, and Corinth was the first stop in his long procession to ascend the throne.

Corinth was the last remnant of the Latin Empire that had formed out of the Sack of Constantinople in 1204. The crusaders that still lived there had long since become vassals of the Kingdom of Naples, and their Angevin patrons assured their continued existence. It would be at Corinth where Richard would make contact with key supporters of his claim to the throne.

As he looked back down the slope, he could see the rest of group trailing behind. His retinue acted as rear guard, while Philip and Marie were left at the center. He looked on as his wife trudged forth with her disinterested apathy. He didn’t seem to understand why she was always so upset. Did she not realize she would soon be a queen? There was nothing to be melancholy about, these were happy days!



The last six months had been nothing short of surreal for Richard. Just a few years ago, he was but a minor noble forced to campaign in Northern France as part of the Hundred Years' War. Those campaigns were brutal, made up of long days with little sleep and constant ambushes by the enemy, who had resorted to guerrilla tactics to halt the English advance. Back then, Richard was always hungry, sleepy and feeling as if he deserved a better life.

So when he was approached by Isabella's agents and revealed the truth about his heritage, he simply couldn't believe it. He went from being some minor member of the English Court to being the future King of Naples. All he needed was a lovely wife to share such a wonderful life, and God had blessed him with just that in Marie, the daughter to yet another King. Yet for all this royal prestige, Richard couldn't shake off the notion that something wasn't right. His wife remained clearly upset for reasons unknown to him. He wanted her to be happy that she'd have a loving King at her side.

Of course, he had to actually become King first. Thankfully, he would have friends to help him with that task, as he was quickly approached by an envoy of riders from Corinth, who welcomed him and his entourage into the fortified city.

Upon entering through the city's front gates, he was immediately approached by the Lord of Corinth, the man who would support and orchestrate his efforts to take the throne. Robert d’Anjou.



"Ah, my King Richard!" Robert called out, opening his arms for an embrace. "I am Robert d'Anjou, the lord of this humble settlement. What a wonderful delight is to have you here, Your Majesty!" Richard liked the man already, and he absolutely loved being called King.

"It is a pleasure to be among such flattering company as you, good Robert!" Richard exclaimed. He really began to feel as if he was royalty deserving of a crown or throne. Philip and Marie merely grimaced as Richard and Robert went on.

"It is an honor to have you here, my King." Robert continued. "Do not worry. I have been informed of the situation by one of your colleagues. Together we will see you placed upon the throne of Naples, and you will rule over all of Southern Italy with your benevolent but mighty hand!" The mention of a 'colleague' piqued Philip's interests.

"Who is this man you speak of that has informed you of our purpose for travel?" the priest inquired.

"Why, I believe you may have met him already. I am sure he can speak for his own behalf. Come out, Laurence!"

Marie and Philip groaned; they had been happy to have been rid of Laurence upon leaving Constantinople.

"It's been some time, Philip. What a wonderful reunion this is!" Laurence proclaimed, flashing a big grin on his face before turning to Marie and Richard. "Congratulations on your wedding; I am so deeply sorry I was unable to attend such a joyous ceremony."

"It's good to see you too, Laurence." Philip feigned. "But what do you know about all this?"

"I know enough, Philip." Laurence snapped back in rude fashion. He seemed to almost be gloating in his mannerisms. "I know that the House of Anjou supports Richard's claim to the throne, and that Robert and his family will do everything in their power to see him become King."

"Laurence is right," Robert continued. "We are eager to see you installed upon the throne, my King. But time is of the essence, and we must set out immediately if we are to avoid facing any pretenders. We set out for Naples on the sun's rise!"

And so their stay in Corinth was a short one. They had barely any time to rest and get settled before they were packing their belongings and boarding yet another ship to travel up the Greek coast on their way into the Adriatic Sea. The going was slow, despite the need for haste. Robert maintained that they needed to maintain secrecy; that the last thing they needed was for the Sicilians to learn of their motives and strike out at their convoy with their mighty navy. As always, Richard seemed to hang on every one of Robert's words, while Philip and Marie remained indifferent. For being a future King, Marie noted with slight disgust that her husband really didn't do much to assert his power over his so-called subjects, preferring to let them tell him what the next best course of action is.

Eventually, supplies began to run short and it became clear that they would need to stop somewhere to resupply. Robert suggested that they make a quick detour and stop by the island of Corfu, which was governed by one of his cousins. There they would be able to rest momentarily before continuing on their swift journey to reach Naples.



As night fell, Richard realized that he had spent most of his day speaking with Robert and Laurence. He appreciated their willingness to spark conversation, something he could not say about his priest friend Philip or his wife Marie. Both of them had gone mysteriously silent in recent times, much to his chagrin. Thankfully, Robert and Laurence were there to fill the void, and so Richard remained content.

They stayed in some lodgings provided by Robert’s cousin. While Philip and Marie immediately set out to bed, Richard could not sleep. He was gripped with excitement and anticipation, and embraced the crisp night air as only a King could. Feeling hale and hearty, he felt it to be the right time to finally approach his wife once more. He had overexerted himself in previous sexual endeavors, but the constant travel had done him well and he felt more confident than ever that he could successfully accomplish his husbandly duties.

"Marie, my love! May I enter?" he queried, knocking on her door in the dead of night. She did not respond.

"Marie? Are you there? Why won't you let your husband join you for on-"

The door suddenly opened and Marie emerged in her nightgown, staring up at her husband. He smiled upon seeing her, but the smile quickly faded away as he looked upon her scornful frown. Her eyes told him everything. She wanted nothing to do with him, and it infuriated him. Who was his wife to deny the physical needs of her husband, to deny the intimate affection he so desperately craved? If she would not give him what he desired, then he would take it from her forcefully. Grabbing her hand, he forced herself on her.

"You've denied me for long enough!" he grunted, as Marie struggled to break free in vain. He would not allow her to. She was his to do as he pleased, and there would be no escaping his desire. He would use her as all husbands used their wives, and she would take it, whether she liked it or not. If he was to be King, he would need sons to succeed him, and she would be the vessel for their arrival, regardless of her wishes against it. "You are my wife and you will have me whether you want to or not!"

"No!" she screamed, panicking now. The thought of marital rape had never crossed her mind before, but now it had become a sudden reality. Richard was forcing herself on her and there was nothing she could do about it. He was her husband after all. Nevertheless, she continued to struggle in vain, refusing to satisfy his worthless lust to the very end.

Richard grew increasingly physical now, pinning Marie to the floor now and straddling her waist. He shoved his hand forcefully against her face to muffle the sound of her screams. She kicked out desperately in hopes of breaking free of his grasp, but her efforts remained in vain. She closed her eyes, tears flowing freely now as she came to the grim realization that she would be used to his whims regardless of what she did. She prayed to the Lord Almighty for some intervention.

He answered.

"Richard?" a voice called out. Marie noted that it was Laurence calling out for her husband. "Richard, I need to speak with you!" Marie could see the look of annoyance in his husband's eyes as he stood up and composed himself. For once, she felt utterly grateful for Laurence's timing, for he had spared her a night of despair.

"Yes, what is it Laurence? It is late in the hour, and I wasn't expecting to be disturbed."

"My apologies, Lord Richard. Lord Robert d'Anjou requires your immediate presence. He has matters to discuss with you before we set out in the morning." This seemed to ease Richard's demeanor, as a meeting with Robert likely meant something having to do with his future Kingship. And so he regained his composure, looking vibrant and eager to meet Robert for this late-night meeting.

"I'll be there at once, Laurence. Thank you for informing me of this news of great importance." The diplomat simply bowed in his typical manner and slithered back into the darkness, followed by Richard. Marie sighed a deep breath of relief. She had been spared, for now. But was this what she had to look forward to as Queen of Naples? She broke down into tears at the thought, letting out all the emotion she had bottled up ever since marrying Richard.

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As morning rose, Richard and his knights looked eager to speak with Robert d'Anjou. Laurence had informed him that Robert would be late to their meeting, and had gone off to find the Angevin Duke. That had been hours, and Richard now grew impatient. Where were they?



Then he heard the sound of hooves. Could that be Robert and his men approaching? What was so important about this meeting? His answers would soon be answered, for he could see Robert and his men off in the distance.

"Robert!" he called out. "Robert! What is this all about?" his shouts remained unanswered as Robert and his men continued to approach.



"Robert!!" he shouted, louder this time. Robert could definitely hear him this time, but again he was ignored. Richard's confusion soon turned into horror as he realized that Robert and his men were in full battle gear, and galloping full speed toward him and his men, lances at the ready. Richard flinched, bracing for impact.

The ensuing crash was deafening. Lances tore through flesh and blood spilled forth freely from gaping wounds as the Angevin Knights tore into Richard's retinue of men. Richard cried out in terror, expecting death to come swiftly and painfully. Alas, he was never touched. As the fighting died down and his men were all but slaughtered, Richard opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by Robert and his men.

"Richard, you've arrived just on time!"Robert finally replied as he took off his helmet. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Wh-what is th-this all about?" Richard called back, visibly shaken by the ordeal he had just gone through.

"Tell me, Richard. Did you ever think it odd that a group of Romans would travel all the way to England to inform you of your royal heritage? Did you ever question why Isabella had her agents travel across all of Europe to see some Englishman upon an Italian throne she's nowhere remotely related to?" They were valid questions; ones Richard had never really given much thought, as in all honesty the thought of becoming King had all but consumed his thoughts ever since learning of his heritage. Richard no answer to Robert’s questions.

"Hmph, figures." Robert concluded. "Surely you must have realized that her agents never would have revealed your heritage to you if they did not have their own sort of hidden agenda. Surely you must have realized that we too have our own hidden agenda..."

At that moment, Laurence emerged from the building in which they had been staying, with Marie and Philip being dragged behind him in chains.

"Marie!" Richard cried out, in clear distress over seeing his wife being manhandled by Robert's men. She was unconscious, and her limp form only further served to worry Richard. Meanwhile, Philip seemed to be somewhat conscious, though clearly in a daze. Laurence must have caught notice of it, for he swiftly kicked the priest across the back of the head to knock him out.

"Laurence, what's going on?" Richard asked, hoping that the diplomat would give him a favorable answer.

"Isn't it obvious? You made a dear mistake marrying Marie, Richard. You left my dear Lady Isabella all alone. Did you forget that it was she who revealed your heritage to you? Did you forget that it was she who you were supposed to have as your Queen? Did you forget of her grand dream to transform your Kingdom into a true Roman Empire, restored in Italy after a millennium of obscurity?"

Richard stayed silent as the plot unraveled before his very eyes. So this was what all this was about. Power. He was but a tool for power that Robert, Laurence and Isabella all sought to exploit. He was but a pawn in their schemes for power, and it devastated him.

"With Laurence as our contact, and you as our puppet, Richard..." Robert's voice held a sinister tone now. "The Kingdom of Naples will be ours to rule as we please. Together with our Roman friends, we'll never again have to languish in these Greek backwaters. Italy will be ours once more!"

Richard remained at a loss for words. He had never expected to be so betrayed. He felt like a fool. He had been goaded with the promises of riches and power as a King. And though his heritage was never in question, the motives behind those trying to help him ascend to the throne clearly were. He would become King, but reap none of the benefits that come with it. He motioned to speak, as if trying to defend his honor, but was cut off as Robert spoke once more.

"Get him in chains." he ordered. "I want them sent to Mdina. Have the traitor prove his worth to our cause."
And then the world went black.

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The next few days were hazy at best for all of them. Constant beatings kept them all fading in and out of consciousness. What little they could make out of their time awake was that they were at sea. Eventually, they arrived ashore...somewhere. It seemed like an idyllic island of sorts, with a beautiful vista marred only by the presence of a dark and ugly fortress that dominated the surrounding scenery. Next thing they knew, they were locked in some dank dungeon.



They were on Malta, a small island off the coast of Sicily, known primarily for the prison that loomed ominously over the entire island known as Mdina. The prison castle's dungeons were infamous for their punishment of prisoners. Horror stories abounded of the sheer brutality and carnage imposed on prisoners by the wardens. This was not somewhere anyone wanted to be incarcerated in.

The warden of the prison was a cruel little man known as Ubertino the Bastard. Ubertino was a minor lord in service to the Kingdom of Sicily. Bitter with his lot in life as the lord of some insignificant island in the middle of the Mediterranean, Ubertino had always taken out his frustrations on his prisoners. More recently, he had actually turned against his King, throwing his lost with the Angevins who likely promised him some position of power for his cooperation. Ubertino was known for his unique skills in ‘persuasion’. With Richard expected to annul his marriage in order to marry Isabella, Richard feared the worst from Ubertino.



Ubertino was accompanied by a fearsome brute of a man named Manfred, who acted as Ubertino's right hand man and guard captain. He was an uncouth savage with a sickening thirst for blood. In the months that they stayed in Mdina, Richard, Marie and Philip were forced to bear witness to Ubertino's and Manfred's cruelty. Manfred was one who liked to get his hands dirty, and on far too many occasions they were forced to watch Manfred literally tear prisoners apart limb from limb with his bare hands, whenever torture devices simply didn't suffice. It was nothing short of a traumatic experience for all of them, who never expected to be forced into such a brutal environment.

Also joining them was Laurence, who acted as a pseudo warden of sorts to Ubertino. He spent his days sitting in front of them with a bored expression, disappointed that he had been dejected to such lowly duties. Nevertheless, the job here in Mdina was a critical one, because it would be where Richard would be persuaded - forced if necessary - to annul his marriage to Marie and agree to marry Isabella, by any means necessary.

Day after day passed in this miserable imprisonment. Any hopes of escape were constantly dashed whenever one of them decided to look outside their small windows. Below them, Ubertino's rogue army of Sicilians were constantly on guard, day in and night out, making any hope of escape impossible. Thus, things became grim when they realized that they had nothing to look forward to except torture, imprisonment and eventual death.



Then one day, that all changed. It was a clear day, and Laurence was once again tasked with looking after them. He rocked back and forth on his chair, toying with the prison cell keys in a taunting manner as always. While this initially had an effect on the imprisoned group, by now it had no effect on them. Richard wept silently in a corner over his predicament, while Marie simply stared expressionlessly at her cell wall. Only Philip seemed willing to talk with the traitorous diplomat.

"Why did you do it, Laurence?" It was a simple question posed by Philip, who over the weeks had become the victim of savage beatings by Manfred and his goons at Ubertino's behest. His face was marred with dark purple bruises, making him a difficult sight to look at.

"Why not?” he answered back. “Where is the logic in serving a King with no power or ambition? I've been to Rome and back, and I can tell you no one there even knows of our small little island kingdom. We are all but forgotten by Christendom. Your King's dream of restoring the Kingdom of Heaven is dead; and Cyprus will never see it restored. The time has come to pursue a new dream, and that I have done by throwing in my lot with my Lady Isabella. Now that is someone with vision and ambition!"

"Really?" Marie spat back. This was the first time she had spoken since arriving. "You sold out your Kingdom to follow some silly dream of restoring an Empire that died a thousand years ago? You'd give up on one kingdom's dream to follow another one's fantasy? You're pathetic."

"I'm not the one in chains, am I? By following Isabella, I can-"

His voice was drowned out by a thunderous crash that slammed into the castle with tremendous force, sending them all reeling to gain their balance. The crash sent Laurence to his knees, and his keys spiraling straight into Marie's cell. Unaware that his keys had fallen, Laurence rushed over to the nearest window to see what had caused such a powerful impact.

As he looked down, he got his answer. A trebuchet was responsible for what had just occurred. But it was not the trebuchet, nor the impact of its ammunition, that had Laurence visibly shaken. No, it was the large army behind the trebuchet that sent shivers up the diplomat's spine. It was an army that held up the banner of the Kingdom of Cyprus.

[Radzeer]

Excellent plot and character development! I also like the pace of the story, slowly rolling on in the eastern Mediterranean... very nice.
But I think one of the greatest elements of this story is the role of Isabella. It is not easy to find a central role for a woman in such stories, so that is a special feat!

[Thokran]

Chapter XXII: Prisonbreak

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

"Are the men ready?"

"Everything is ready, Gilbert. The troops wait for your order."

"Very well then, Andronicus. Sound the horn for the attack!"



As the Byzantine General went off to signal the order to begin the assault, Gilbert walked out of his tent and looked upon the walls of Mdina. Somewhere inside that prison fortress, Marie and Philip were being exposed to unspeakable atrocities. God willing, Gilbert would do everything in his power to free them from such a horrible fate. His eyes glinted as the sun hung lazily above in the afternoon sky. How so much had changed in such little time...

Just a few months before, Gilbert was without purpose, acting as a lover to a Byzantine Princess. The whole situation was so surreal and out of place for one of his disciplined upbringing among the Knights, that it left him unsettled and confused. So when he was approached on that fateful day by Andronicus, he knew then that he would get some answers. What he learned shocked him.

Andronicus had revealed to him that Marie had been forced to marry Richard Tanlay. He had also revealed that both Richard and Marie were now pawns in a developing scheme for control of the Angevin throne in Naples. Worse yet, this scheme was being masterminded by none other than Andronicus' sister, the very woman Gilbert had been sleeping with for months.

Gilbert was so overcome with emotion when he learned all this that he did not know what to feel at first. He felt worried for Marie and Philip, who were being targeted by schemers and plotters. He felt betrayed by Isabella, who he had grown to trust as someone who could relate with his loss, when in reality all she really cared about was attaining power. He felt relieved and sad at the same time for Marie, who had been forced to marry a man she did not love. But most importantly, he felt resolved to do something about it all. This was what Andronicus wanted to hear from Gilbert, and the two formed a pact to stop this plot once and for all.

In the months that followed, Gilbert and Andronicus had traveled all over the Aegean in search of Richard, Marie and Philip. Along the way, they stopped at Rhodes and met with Prince John of Cyprus, who was informed of the plight that his sister and brother-in-law were now in. John was more than surprised to see Gilbert, who he believed to have died years before. Even so, he seemed to understand the danger his sister was in, and while he could not outright join them on their mission, he was more than willing to lend some of his troops to the cause of seeing Marie rescued from whatever plot she had unintentionally walked into.

He also sought to reward Gilbert for the valorous deeds he had already achieved in protecting Marie on her way to Constantinople by making him a noble. Cypriot custom and tradition prevented the Prince from promoting anyone not of French or Cypriot origin to become a noble. But John found a loophole to this through Gilbert's mother, who was from the small French village of Marigny. Upon John's insistence, Gilberto di Fonte was dubbed Sir Gilbert de Marigny, Lord of Rhodes and Grandmaster of the Order of the Knights Hospitaller.



Gilbert did not know how to react. The Order of the Knights Hospitaller had been his life prior to this escort mission he had taken in protecting Marie. He never expected to one day become the Grandmaster of the Order. He was greatly humbled by this experience, and beyond thankful to the Prince’s generosity. Nevertheless, such feelings of gratitude paled in comparison to the desire he felt to find Marie. He left just a week later to rejoin Andronicus and his agents in search of any news about Marie, Philip or Richard.

Finally, one day in Crete, Andronicus received a breakthrough from one of his men that Marie, Richard and Philip had been captured by Angevin forces in Corfu and sent to the island prison of Mdina. Immediately, Gilbert and Andronicus had mobilized the men and set sail toward the small island off the coast of Sicily. Along the way, they had picked up some key mercenaries that would allow them to break through whatever defenses the prison had at its disposal. These included some sorely needed Italian Heavy Cavalry and gunpowder troops.



Now, weeks later he had landed ashore on the isle of Mdina and had siege towers and trebuchets at his disposal. No expense would be spared in this rescue effort. Ever since learning the truth from Andronicus, Gilbert had felt compelled to reach Marie, no matter what stood in his way. He knew that Andronicus held a different agenda, but a noble one nonetheless. His desire was first and foremost to foil his sister's plans and rescue Richard. His hope was that in saving Richard, he could develop favorable relations with the future Angevin King and have his promised support to aid the ailing Byzantine Empire. It was a much more conservative but feasible plan for the immediate future of the Byzantine Empire, one far more preferable to his sister's radical plan to recreate a Roman Empire in Italy.

Honestly, Gilbert could care less what Andronicus' intentions were. He respected him as a comrade and as an ally, one he was thankful to have here at his side. But what he really cared about as he saw his troops storm the prison ramparts, was to see Marie to immediate safety.



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Marie had been snapped out of her expressionless trance by the impact of the trebuchet. As she gathered her bearings, she realized that the key to her cell had fallen squarely before her. She couldn’t believe it at first; was this really happening? She had become so jaded by the past few years, that the feeling of being in control of her own destiny now seemed alien to her. Would these keys lead her to salvation, or would she remain subjected to the will of her power-hungry captors?

She decided to act now and think later. Seizing the keys, she rushed to the door and franticly began searching for the right key to unlock her from her cell. She grew increasingly frustrated and panicked as key after key failed to turn the door lock. She could see Laurence turning toward her now from the window. In moments, he would take the keys back and deny her freedom. This was it; now or never.

The last key finally did the job, and the door to her cell was unlocked. Laurence now lunged over to her cell, determined to stop her from breaking free. At once, she pushed forth the cell door with all her might, and watched with immense satisfaction as the iron bars slammed across Laurence’s face, knocking him back to the ground in a broken heap.

What a moment that was for Marie, to be free once more with her captor laying in a daze before her. She wanted nothing more than to beat Laurence for all the pain and misery he had put her through, but she knew time was of the essence. The guards would be upon them any moment now, and she had to free the others to make their escape. She rushed over to Philip’s cell, and once more sifted through the immense key chain. As she did so, she could hear voices through the wall.

“Damn it, Manfred! Attend to the defenses, we are besieged!” It was Ubertino, and from the sound of it, he was heading their way!

“Laurence!” he called out. “Laurence, where the hell are you!?”

At that moment, he barged through the door, and looked on in shock at the scene before him. The prisoners were escaping! His shocked expression soon turned into one of fury as he unsheathed his dagger and swooped in on Marie.

There would have once been a time when Marie would have screamed at this, frozen in terror and awaiting death. But she had gone through too much to be fazed much by it any more. Pure reaction sent her diving out of the way, avoiding Ubertino’s blade by mere inches. In doing so, she conveniently left the keys in Philip’s cell. With Ubertino’s attentions focused squarely on her, she fled the room, with the snarling Sicilian man hot on her heels.

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Meanwhile, the battle outside continued to rage. The garrison of Mdina was caught wholly unprepared by the siege. The siege works had been built at night, off by the coast, out of sight of any guards on lookout on the walls. Now these siege machines were at the walls, allowing an outpour of troops onto the ramparts. It did not take long for the besiegers to capture the walls and open the gates to the prison. Captain Manfred, seeing that his defenses had been compromised, recalled his troops back into the main courtyard, where they would be able to muster up a solid defensive effort. As he did so, Captain Gilbert and Andronicus watched on as their troops stormed the prison. They followed after them, determined to crush the garrison s swiftly as possible.





Alas, Manfred was quick to set up his defense, effectively stopping Gilbert and Andronicus from attaining an easy victory. Manfred’s men were crack troops who wouldn’t break under pressure. To charge directly against them would be folly, as it would cause heavy casualties.

“We can’t charge into that courtyard, they’ll slaughter our men!” Andronicus argued.

“We’ll pay any price to get to them!” Gilbert cried out. He knew he was wrong, that he could not simply throw away the lives of hundreds to save the lives of three, but he was caught up in the heat of the moment. After learning the truth of Isabella’s intentions, he had felt so used and manipulated. He felt as if he had so much to make up for, and that this daring rescue was at the very least a beginning for him on the path towards personal redemption. He wanted – no – he needed to rescue Marie from this prison, no matter what.

“Be rational, Gilbert!” Andronicus replied, snapping Gilbert back to reality. “Let us wear them down before going in for the final blow!” The Roman made sense. The prison garrison may have had a stalwart defense, but they lacked any sort of ranged weaponry, leaving them susceptible to all sorts of projectile fire. Gilbert agreed with Andronicus’ plan, and the order was sent to call up the mercenary gunners to the frontlines. With harquebus in hand, these men unloaded volley after volley of deadly gunfire onto Manfred’s troops, tearing through their ranks with ease and impunity.



Both Gilbert and Andronicus knew that the Sicilians could not withstand such an assault for long. Sooner or later, they would be goaded into meeting their men in battle, if only to stop getting shot at. Sure enough, they did just that. With their heaviest cavalry leading the charge, they stormed out of the courtyard and into the streets where the gunners were at. At once, Andronicus called for the mercenaries to fall back, their position at the frontline to be replaced by their own heaviest infantry. Gilbert commended Andronicus for his tactical acumen. He was young, but he held a presence about him that exuded leadership, both at home and on the battlefield. He was what the Byzantine Empire needed now more than ever.

Spearmen packed the city street man to man, creating an impenetrable blockade of shields and spears to halt the oncoming advance. These brave men braced themselves for impact and held the line with courage as the Sicilians threw their very best at them. On more than one occasion, the spear wall bended back and looked close to breaking. But the Lord was with them that day, and they persevered. They had done their job, and had successfully stopped the momentum of the Sicilian charge. Now it was Gilbert’s time to do his part.

“Are you ready?” Gilbert called out to Andronicus. “Let us go and do what we set out to do here!”

The Roman General was in agreement, and raised his sword high in the air. “Aye, my friend! Charge!!”

“Charge!!!”



What ensued was pure chaos as cavalry met cavalry head on, and knights clashed in vicious combat against one another, with no sign of a clear victory on either side.

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Back inside the prison, Philip finally found the key to open his cell. He now worked to free Richard from his cell. Looking into his fearful eyes, Philip could tell Richard had no plan of action. Neither did he. The situation had devolved into chaos. The only thing Philip could think of doing next was finding Marie and finding a way out of there. Finally, he was able to free Richard and the two set out to leave the dungeon that had become their home for so many months.

As they were leaving, Philip noted from the corner of his eye that Laurence was coming to. Philip could not understand how Laurence was so quick and willing to turn against his own Kingdom. Philip did not forget the beating he had suffered at Laurence’s hands back at Corfu, and while he was always known as ‘the Peaceful’, Philip felt as if he could make an exception for Laurence, just this one time.

He walked over to the Laurence, raised his foot, and sent it crashing down against the back of the diplomat’s head. Laurence immediately crumpled into an unconscious heap. Philip then dragged his body into the cell he had stayed in for the past few months and locked him in there.

“Let’s see how you like it!” Philip spat. Richard simply looked on in amazement, not having expected that from the priest. Philip turned to Richard and snapped his fingers against his face. “What are you looking at? We have to go! Your wife is in danger!”

That she was. Marie raced through the dark halls of the prison, with Ubertino right behind her. Despite being daylight, visibility remained low inside the prison, making it all that much harder for Marie to escape.

Ubertino knew his way around the building, and she didn’t. It wouldn’t be long before she would be cornered. Turning a sharp corner, her heart dropped as she came across her worst fear: running into a dead end. She was trapped now.



“I got you now, you dirty little whore!”Ubertino yelled as he yet again dove in and thrust with his dagger.

Marie fell back, but not before being grazed by the blade, which tore open her dress and left a shallow cut across her upper chest. Ubertino licked his lips in glee as Marie fell to the ground. He was caught up in the heat of the moment. He cared nothing for the battle raging outside, or for the consequences he would surely suffer for failing his new Angevin and Roman allies in allowing the prisoners to escape. Right now his sadist tendencies took over, and he had become a predator. His prey now lay before him, bleeding and vulnerable. With his trusty dagger in hand, he would do to her what he did to all of his other victims: make her bleed and beg for death.

But Marie would not be taken advantage of again. She would be no one’s prey, not any longer. It was time for her to forge her own destiny and secure her own future. As Ubertino moved in on her, she lashed out with her feet, sending a powerful kick straight into her attacker’s groin. Ubertino yelped in pain as he instinctively went to grab his crotch, dropping his dagger and keeling over to his side in the process.

Marie went to make her escape, but found to her horror that Ubertino was not dealt with yet. He shot his free arm out at her, latching on to her throat. He squeezed with all his might, determine to choke his target and keep her in his grasp. Marie panicked, pounding her fists against Ubertino’s face as she struggled to break free in vain. Horrible memories flashed into her mind as she struggled against his grip.

Her mind was flooded with all sorts of memories, like the first time she witnessed a man die before her eyes. Memories came in of her time in Trebizond with the twisted Alexius Comnenus. Memories that were followed by the one of being run out of Caffa by an angry mob out for her blood. Memories of being chased down by Ottoman soldiers, and of losing the man who had vowed to protect her throughout the daring journey. Memories of how she was forced to marry a man she cared nothing for, and how that man had tried to force himself on her as Ubertino was trying to do now.

The memories all culminated to leave her with a single conclusion: she was tired of being used by others. She was tired of being resigned to a fate she didn’t want for herself. From now on, she would carve her own path, regardless of what anyone else wanted from her. Never again would she allow herself to be subjugated; never again!

“NEVER AGAIN!” she roared as she grabbed Ubertino’s dagger and sent it smashing through the side of his head. She pinned Ubertino now, ripping the blade out only to plunge it into Ubertino’s body again and again. Blood sprayed all over her as she unleashed all of the anger and frustration that had built up inside of her over the years. She would never again allow herself to be subjugated again. Again and again and again she stabbed Ubertino’s face until there was nothing left to identify him by. He was nothing more than a mangled gory carcass. Marie panted now in exhaustion, having finally released all the hate and anger that she had stored inside for so long. She was free now, and she would never subjugate herself to another man’s will again. She would make her own path now.

When Philip and Richard finally caught up with her, they were left aghast at what they saw. Marie was drenched in the blood of her victim. Yet she didn’t seem to care about it anymore. She walked right up to Richard and slapped him across the face with all the force she still had.

“Don’t you ever try to force yourself upon me, you bastard!” she said, indicating to that night in Corfu. “I may be your wife, but if you want my heart, you will have to earn it; not take it by force!” He was lucky she did not try to use that dagger against him, but Richard did not deserve it the way Ubertino did. He too was just a victim of this plot they had fallen into. While she hated being his wife, she did not wish her husband death. All she wished was that he leave her be. Whether that involved an annulment to the marriage or not, she did not yet know, nor did she really care.

“Marie…” Philip began. “You’re covered in blood. What happened, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, clearly not in the mood to calm down. “I can’t say the same for that bastard Ubertino. He got what was coming to him. Now let’s get the hell out of here!” Richard and Philip weren’t about to disagree with her, and they followed her lead out of the prison. Marie felt an air of confidence she had not felt in years. It felt good to be in control of her own fate again. God willing, she would escape from this prison and-

Her thoughts were cut short as she emerged into the blinding light of the day. It took her some time to get adjusted to the light after having been cramped up in a dark dungeon for so long. But as her eyes came into focus, she was able to see once more.





She blinked her eyes several times, to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. Was salvation really before her very eyes? Were those troops really serving her father’s Kingdom? Was that…Gilbert she saw!? She must be dreaming. Maybe this was a dream…?

Everything went dark as she collapsed and fainted.

The sight of a three bloodied figures emerging out of the darkness of a prison was an unnerving one to say the least. Nevertheless, once Gilbert realized that it was Marie covered in blood that had fainted, he immediately ran over to attend to her. Philip seemed just as amazed to see Gilbert again. Yet the moment of reunion had to be cut short.

“Gilbert, take them to the ships!” Andronicus yelled from afar. “We have reports of an Angevin fleet on the horizon! We have to leave now if we want to make it to safety!”

Philip, Richard and Gilbert met eye to eye once more, and came to an understanding. Reunions and introductions would have to be held off until later. Right now they had to leave Mdina, lest all this struggle be in vain!

[Robin de Bodemloze]

Wonderfully satisfying after the trials and tribulations of the last few chapters. I loved the sudden turn in Marie's character, as well as Philip's moment of aggression

[Maltacus]

That's more like it, princess.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Marie: or else

Laurence:
Ubertino:
Richard:
Philip: From to
Gilbert:
Andronicus:
Manfred:
Isabella (soon to be):

[Robin de Bodemloze]

Inspired by Maltacus, here is my representation of Princess Marie:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Eventually upon Thokran's consent to be....

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Thokran]

Thanks Radzeer, I didn't expect Isabella to be such a central figure, but she turned out quite nicely. Hopefully I can give Marie some equal female empowerment. It's nice writing from a female perspective at times, it's not one that's often seen. Same thing with Philip; even priests need to let out some energy sometimes!

robinzx and Maltacus, those portraits were awesome! You guys have to show me how to do that, lmao. Might actually turn out useful in the later parts of the story.

Thanks again for the support, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

[Thokran]

Chapter XXIII: On the Run

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The port of Bengazi. It was the only ‘safe’ place Gilbert and Andronicus could think of.



Having made their daring rescue and escape at Mdina, they had been relentlessly pursued for days by the Angevin navy that had been sighted near the island. Without enough supplies to reach Greece or the Aegean, Andronicus had ordered the ships to sail south to Bengazi. Although the coast of North Africa was technically Mamluk or Moorish territory, the port itself remained relatively neutral in order to maintain healthy trade relations with the Mediterranean powers. Here they could law low for a while, and plan their next course of action.

With the ships docked at port and the troops stationed several miles out of town, Gilbert and Andronicus had taken to entering the port dressed as traders in search of supplies. Like this, they could bring back much needed supplies back to the others at camp, as well as learn about the fallout from Mdina. Apparently news spread like wildfire. While the Angevins maintained that the attack was the doing of crusaders, the widely believed story was that the Angevins had staged an attack on Mdina under the guise of crusaders. Gilbert was thankful for this, for the last thing he needed was to have unintentionally started a war with the Kingdom of Sicily.

Nevertheless, the question remained: what was to be done next? As far as they knew, Richard was still the heir to the throne of Naples. But having been betrayed by the Angevins, they couldn’t expect to sail to Naples and claim the throne without expecting a fight from Robert and the other members of the House of Anjou.

And then there were the personal issues Gilbert had with Marie and Richard. After years of hearing about their marriage, it was strange to finally be in their company. Marie in particular had been avoiding him for the past few weeks, and the two had yet to have a conversation alone. As he understood from Philip, Marie’s silence attributed from feeling as if she had seen a ghost, for she had long since accepted him as dead. Even so, her silence pained him. With everything that had happened in the past few years: between his leave of absence, her marriage, Isabella’s plotting, and the feelings he had developed for her, there was much to talk about, and much to clarify. He only feared that their time spent apart may have done too much damage to what had developed between them so long ago. She remained married to Richard, after all…

Gilbert had expected to hate Richard, for he could no longer deny the feelings he had felt for Marie and how hurt he had been when he learned of her marriage to him. But as the weeks passed, Gilbert found himself unable to hate the man. Sure, he was feeble and weak-minded, but he did not loathe the man. He felt sorry for him, having become little more than a tool for power by others. Yet despite this, Richard seemed grateful to have been saved, and did his part going into town to return with supplies.

One day, he arrived with more than supplies…

“Everyone!” he called out, literally running into camp in a great hurry. “Guess who I came across in town!?”

“Richard! You’ve compromised us!” Gilbert reprimanded him. “You don’t know who this person may be working for!”

“No need for scolding, now!” The voice was unmistakable. “Though I definitely didn’t expect to see you here. My, this is a small world!”



It was Marcel.

Just as Marie had predicted, the merchant had found a way to weasel his way out of trouble and make a fresh start here at Benghazi, up until now where the past finally caught up to him. Marcel was a much more willing conversationalist, and he was just as eager to tell his story of escaping the Venetians as he was to hear Gilbert’s story of surviving the Ottomans, and the events that unfolded afterwards. As Gilbert recounted his story to Marcel, Philip, and all those who hadn’t yet heard it – Marie included – he conveniently omitted the part where he literally slept with the enemy, Isabella. That was something he was too ashamed and unprepared to tell others about, especially with how precarious his relationship with Marie seemed at the moment.

That said, when the time came to talk about the next plan of action, Marcel was able to provide them with some much needed current news.

“What, you’re still trying to make rich off of Richard the bastard boy, here?” Marcel chided, as if he couldn’t believe that his ‘friends’ were so out of the loop. He hadn’t forgotten how quick they had been to abandon him before, after all. “Don’t you know? King Ladislao has returned to Naples, with the backing of an Aragonese army. Your plan to marry the future King of Naples is ruined now.” He stared straight at Marie as he broke the news, looking at her with the same look she had given him just before being left to die on the shores of Negroponte. She met his glare with one of her own, refusing to back down from his gaze. The girl had spunk that much he could admit.



Of course, the news did not sit well with the others, especially Richard who looked especially distraught over the dawning realization that his hopes and expectations of becoming Royalty were all but crushed.
“What do you mean!? This can’t be!!” he cried out, despairing over the mere thought of it. He paced frantically, unable to settle down, regardless of Philip’s attempts to calm him down.

“Richard, settle down!” the priest said. He knew getting upset would do nothing to help the situation. But his efforts fell flat.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down!” Richard roared, with uncharacteristic anger. Where did this fortitude emerge from? The normally meek Richard now seethed with fury.

“I was supposed to be a King!” he ranted. “I’m still supposed to be a King! We have an army here; let us take the throne by force!!”

“Be reasonable, Richard!” Andronicus lambasted. “Without food or supplies, we’d be torn apart by Ladislao’s men!” As Richard continued his fit, Marie looked on at her husband with a puzzled look. He should have overexerted himself by now. Perhaps realizing that everything he had been promised for years was nothing more than a farce had set him over the edge with so much adrenaline that it energized him beyond his normal limits. Regardless, he was now becoming irrational and dangerous.

“I am reasonable, damn it!” Richard shot back. “I’m a King! And if you want me to help your pitiful Kingdoms emerge from obscurity and oblivion, you’ll see me on my throne!!”

Andronicus now moved to sit him down, but he was violently shoved for his efforts. Andronicus held himself back, knowing he could not risk his chances with the man who could still become King of Naples. But Richard would not stop his tirade, turning his attention now on his wife. He had not forgotten the slap she had given him back at Mdina; a slap that could be heard across the whole island of Malta.

“And as a King, I’ll do what I please with whoever I want! That includes you, Marie!” he now roughly seized her by her arm and dragged her to him, so that she could stare into his frenzied eyes. “I am your King, and you will do as I say!!” Richard shouted at the top of his lungs, sounding oddly reminiscent of the father Marie had a fall out with.

Gilbert had seen enough.

Without a word, he calmly walked up to Richard and sent him reeling with a blow from his gauntleted fist. Unlike Andronicus, Gilbert had no qualms about shutting Richard up. The punch set Richard’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, laying him out unconscious. Gilbert couldn’t lie; it felt good hitting Richard, especially after seeing the type of man he could be under duress. Turning to Marie, he could see a small smile of gratitude, the first smile he had seen from her in years.

“Well, with that settled…” Gilbert began, trying to return to the subject at hand. “What do we do now?”

“With Ladislao on the throne, we lose the ability to use Richard as a way to garner support with the West.” Andronicus replied. “Perhaps we should find a way to see him on that throne.” He went on to suggest.

“And become no better than the Angevin bastards that imprisoned me?” Marie shot back. “I will not allow myself to become anyone’s tool for power. You can do what you want with Richard, but I will have no part of it. If I have to have my marriage annulled or request divorce from the Pope himself, then so be it.” She was trying to make a point: she knew well that the Pope only provided annulment or divorce to those who have favor or influence with him, something she possessed neither of. She could see Gilbert looking on, notably impressed with her having stood up for herself.

“Alright then, let’s take a step back on all this and look at the big picture.” Andronicus replied back. “What is it that both of our people need?”

“Western support, both financially and militarily.” Philip answered in a matter-of-fact manner.

“Now, do we need to have Richard as the King of Naples in order to achieve that?” This was an interesting question, one that made everyone think.

“No, but it would help, wouldn’t it?” Philip replied.

“Would it really? After all, Ladislao returned to Naples with the backing of the King Aragon, did he not?” Andronicus pointed out. “If we were to replace Ladislao with Richard, not only would we make an enemy out of the Pope, we’d make an enemy out of another powerful Kingdom like Aragon.”

“So what do you propose we do then?” Marie asked.

“Let us appeal to the King of Aragon instead. He must have influence with the Pope if he can reinstate a King to his throne with such ease. Perhaps he will listen to our cause, and aid us in our endeavor. If anything, he’ll be an enemy of my sister and the House of Anjou, who must surely be upset with Ladislao’s return.” Andronicus made a strong argument. Gilbert was always impressed with how Andronicus could think of the bigger picture without getting caught up in the madness of the moment.



“Will he listen to us?” Gilbert wondered. “We ask a lot of a man we know next to nothing about. Annulment, financial support, military aid…what can we offer in return?”

“You offer Richard, of course!” Marcel pointed out. “If the King of Aragon wants Ladislao on the throne of Naples, then he’ll want to make sure all threats to Ladislao’s reign are dealt with. Hand him to Aragon; it may not be much, but it’s enough of a starting offer for you to negotiate with the King.”

It was a startling suggestion, but a tempting one as well. For all of Richard’s good intentions, he had become a liability, and with Ladislao in power they no longer needed to acquiesce to him in order to gain favor with him. Though Philip seemed against the idea, Marie was more than happy to be rid of him, and even Gilbert found the idea tempting.

“And don’t worry about how to reach the King. I know a man in town who will be able to help us reach him without issue…”

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Meanwhile at Malta, Laurence feared for his life. He had yet again failed his superiors. He would not be able to escape their wrath this time. Shortly after Marie and the others had made their escape, the island had been captured by Angevin forces under the command of Alixandre d’Anjou, a cousin to Robert d’Anjou. It was Alixandre who was organizing the naval search for Marie and her friends, and who had left him locked in his cell as punishment for his failure.

Though he was no cruel specimen like Ubertino or Manfred, he was definitely a young man who meant business and who had no qualms about killing him if he was ordered to. Laurence expected just that as he saw Alixandre enter his cell with his sword in hand.



“I have orders from my cousin Robert to see you killed for your failure.” Laurence gulped.

“However…” Alixandre continued. “Upon the behest of the Lady Isabella, you are to be spared. With our plans foiled by Ladislao’s return, she has need of your presence in Naples, where she expects you to parlay with the returned King in her favor. You are free to go.” And with that, Alixandre left.

Laurence could not believe it. One moment he was faced with death, and the next he was granted another chance at life. He knew now that he could not fail Isabella again. Though her orders were vague, he was determined to see her will done in Italy.

So three weeks later he was in Naples, where he learned of the origin behind Ladislao’s return. The Aragonese were clearly trying to take advantage of the ongoing war between Naples and Sicily. By supporting Ladislao in a war to crush Sicily, Aragon could move in to take all of Sicily and Southern Italy upon Ladislao’s death. Nevertheless, this connection to Aragon was a blessing in disguise, for he knew just the person to talk to in Naples, who could help see that Isabella wins out favorably from this whole turn out.



Raimunda the Gorgon was called as such for a good reason; she was an absolute eyesore. Still, to the King of Aragon, she remained daddy’s little girl. Laurence had realized this when he first met her years ago, and spared no expense to constantly flatter her with gifts and compliments she rarely received from other members of the royal courts in Italy. For this reason, he had special sway with the Aragonese princess, and in turn with the King of Aragon.

As he expected, Raimunda was more than willing to pull a few strings to have Laurence gain an audience with her father. By the end of the month, Laurence was in Barcelona, pleading his case with King Ferdinand the Honest of the House of Trastamara. Laurence needed to show the King of Aragon that an alliance with Isabella as the new Queen of Naples would far outweigh the prospect of him taking over Sicily and Southern Italy for himself. He needed to point out how costly of an endeavor such direct control would be, and emphasize the importance of the bigger picture. If he could make the King of Aragon a supporter of Isabella’s new Roman Empire, then there would be no need to have Richard on the throne. Isabella would rule directly from Naples, and crush Richard, Marie and all of their friends for meddling in her affairs.

Things seemed to be going according to plan, until a letter came in from Palma, where her older brother Prince Duarte lived. According to the letter, Duarte had received an audience from Richard and the others! He did not know what to make of their argument, and so had deferred the decision to his father. Laurence grew concerned, unsure of how the King would react. Then Ferdinand spoke.

“Laurence, what do you make of this group? They’ve come across the Mediterranean to make a bold offer. How do you suggest I proceed with their offer?”

Laurence simply smiled, knowing that his true affiliations to Isabella remained well hidden here in Aragon, and that he held the upper hand by being in the King’s favor.

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Sir Enguerran de Breze was a peculiar character.



An old Spanish knight, Enguerran was once renowned throughout all of Iberia. He pledged allegiance to no King, preferring instead to lead his own army of mercenaries and fight for the highest bidder. Nevertheless, he led his men with such chivalry that even his enemies often invited him to Court, marveled with his valor and dignity.

This was years ago. One day, for no particular reason, he decided enough was enough and he sailed off into the horizon, starting a new life as a merchant in North Africa. Why he chose to give up a life of fame and fortune for one of hardship along the North African coast to this day remained a mystery. It was during this self-exile that Marcel had met and befriended Enguerran many years before. Enguerran had owed him a number of favors over the years, and now Marcel looked to cash in on those favors with this request to have audience with the King of Aragon. Enguerran had apparently trained King Ferdinand’s son Prince Duarte in swordsmanship, and so he felt confident in approaching him at his residence in Palma.



Unlike last time he travelled with Marie and company, Marcel had no direct reason to be tagging along with them this time. They were wanted men by powerful people, and there was no profit to be had following them. Not to mention they would surely abandon him if they had the chance again. But something about traveling with them gave him a sense of…exhilaration that he fed off. It was the same exhilaration he felt running for his life back in Caffa, or running through gunfire in Mytilin. Marcel was addicted to the adrenaline rush, to the uncertainty of what’s going to happen next.

Enguerran, Marcel, Gilbert and Marie were present for the audience with the Prince. Richard remained on the boats with Philip, Andronicus and the troops. They had to first convince the Prince of their cause before they could offer Richard over. Pleading their case with Prince Duarte, none of them had a clue as to how the Aragonese would take their offer.

Even with Enguerran’s sponsorship, Duarte seemed…indecisive and unsure on how to follow through with their offer. He allowed them to stay at his residence while he mulled over the offer. That was days ago, and Enguerran began to grow increasingly worried, as this was uncharacteristic behavior from the Prince. With Andronicus and the army still with the ships, they were left relatively unguarded against a security force that seemed to double in size by the day.



“We need to leave.” Enguerran whispered into Gilbert’s ear one night as they left the dinner table toward their respective quarters. “I know Duarte; this is not how we would be acting if we were in his favor.”

“Are you sure of this?” Gilbert queried. A lot of was riding on this diplomatic mission with the Aragonese. If they really had fallen out of favor with Aragon, then they would have to start from scratch, their efforts to gain influence and support from the Central-Western Mediterranean all in vain. He didn’t want to abandon this last ditch effort on their part unless absolutely necessary. Alas, Enguerran made a compelling argument.

“Whoever your enemies are, they must have beaten us to the punch and gained favor with Aragon before we could. If we stay here any longer, we will be captured and imprisoned by his guards, and likely executed by those who oppose your cause.” The gravity in Enguerran’s words was all that Gilbert needed to hear. It was no longer safe in Palma.

“Then all is lost.” Gilbert lamented.

“Not all is lost.” Enguerran replied. “If we make it to the mainland, I can find us friends who may be more willing to listen to your cause.”



“Then let us leave at once.” Gilbert knew that Enguerran’s proposition was a long shot, an even further one than trying to make a deal with the Aragonese, but it was better than waiting to die if what Enguerran said was true.

Together, they rounded up Marcel and Marie, and made a quiet exit out of the palace. Following Enguerran’s lead, they were led through the twists and turns of Palma’s tight streets and alleyways. As they worked their way through the port city avoid detection from the guard patrols, Gilbert noticed that Marie had clasped onto his hand tightly. The simple act reassured him that maybe all was not yet lost of a better time in the past. Alas, he could not think much of it for now; the docks were in sight and they had to board their ships as fast as possible before they-

“Stop right there!” yelled out a guard. Gilbert winced, knowing they had been caught. But they couldn’t stop now, they were so close. They had to make a run for it. He sprinted forth, dragging Marie along with him as they made a mad dash across the docks to reach the ships. Enguerran and Marcel were quick to follow them.



The sound of footsteps could be heard behind them as the city garrison rallied up to capture them. The sounds of their footsteps were followed by the whizzing of arrows just barely missing them. Marcel could not help but think of Caffa as they ran for their lives. Somehow, they were always being chased. However, this time the situation was much grimmer. They could not completely avoid the hail of arrows, no matter how fast they ran. One arrow sunk deep into Gilbert’s left shoulder, causing him to scream out in agonizing pain. He pushed on however, determined to protect Marie. Had that arrow hit her instead, she would have been instantly killed.

All was not lost however…

“Fire!” It was Andronicus! He and the gunners under their employ returned fire with their own weapons, causing the guards to scatter momentarily. As they closed in on the ships, Andronicus raised his weapon high and led the infantry and knights out to face the guards head on and buy Gilbert and the others the time they needed to get onto the ships.

At last, they reached the ships without further incident. Enguerran and Marcel hurried off to prepare the ships for departure. Gilbert now unsheathed his own sword and turned to the battle at hand, wincing in pain as he did so. He was about to rip the arrow out of his shoulder before he was roughly stopped by Marie, who forced his hand down.

“Not this time!” she said. The fiery determination in her eyes told Gilbert all he needed to know. She would not let him throw his life away in her defense. No matter how much he desired it, he would not leave her side again. Finally acquiescing to her wishes, he lowered his sword and joined her on the ship.

“Fall back!!” he cried out to Andronicus. The Byzantine General fought like a lion, failing to miss a step as he tore through the ranks of guards that swarmed around his men. Slowly but surely, they pushed back the guards and made their retreat back onto the ships. Wave after wave of Duarte’s men swarmed his position, and yet still Andronicus stood firm. Gilbert had really come to admire Andronicus in the short time they had known each other. He was honorable, venerable, and a true friend. He was everything his people needed now more than ever. He would be a great empero-

And then he took an arrow to the knee.

“No!!” Gilbert cried out, imeediately lunging forth toward the docks. Andronicus had fallen, unable to join his men on their retreat to the ship. He was isolated now, at the mercy of Duarte’s men. It became increasingly difficult to see him in the dark as the guards swarmed around him. Yet his voice could still be heard.

“Go on without me!!” he shouted. “Don’t wait for me, or we’ll all be captured!”

“But-“

“GO! NOW!!!” He roared back. Gilbert now knew how Marie must have felt when he told her the very same thing before charging to face the Ottomans in battle all those years ago. He struggled with himself to go forth in a daring charge and save his good friend. But the ship was sailing and his body was beginning to fail him from blood loss. The arrow in his shoulder had done more damge that he had expected. He now faded in and out of consciousness as he struggled against the crew to save Andronicus, with all that was left of his strength and energy. But it was all for naught. The guards had already captured him, and the ship was leaving dock, unopposed by Aragonese ships, which were late to react to their escape.

Slowly but surely, the isle of Palma faded away in the darkness of the horizon, and Gilbert slowly faded out of consciousness. Falling back onto the deck of the ship, he stared out into the beauty of the night sky. Stars as far as his eyes could see. Such a magnificent sight could only be topped by the face of the lovely woman that now huddled over him with great concern. Marie’s face was the last thing he saw, before everything faded to black…

[Robin de Bodemloze]

Great update as always! I thought the tension between Gilbert and Marie was very well done.

And then he took an arrow to the knee.

[Maltacus]

An Aragonese hideous princess... So, from the previous descriptions I gather that she probably is said to have shining eyes and the softest of silk hair among the people of her own court? But alas, when the writer is from the more shallow and less understanding Crusader States such qualities are sadly overlooked...

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

About the sister-in-law Elvira:

Gorgeous eyes and soft, lucious hair. Revered by the court for her charm. So this is what they call "Flawed Features" in Aragon... Some people never get satisfied

And about Elvira, lmao. I totally didn't catch that when I was cropping photos. Ah well, I guess you can say the Aragonese are very understanding and accepting of flawed features, and that whoever makes the ancillaries/traits is one shallow bastard.

Your adventuring party are really hardcore diplomats. Nobody even contemplates retreating home to Cyprus for a while. Keep writing your very entertaining story

Oh yes, about the princess card (WHY is it that your stories seem to end up in, and result in, obsession with princesses as soon as you pick Mediterranean factions? The "jewels of the Meditteranean", indeed): It's actually nothing grander than simple copy-pasting of a line and some stars from one of your other pics. It looks like robinzx pasted individual letters to form the hitherto unknown trait Master Swordswoman . I use GIMP for picture editing, if that matters. If you would want to have many (existing) traits it can be really worth it to mod a princess or whatever with those in the descr_strat - it is much easier to copy a longer list of traits than pick one from each of several pictures and get the same good result.

If you really overdo this kind of thing it can end up as something like this :

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Radzeer]

Another excellent chapter! The escape was masterfully written, and the last scene with Gilbert on the boat did really capture the feeling of it. I like the sky pic you added - and actually I have to say that while I am usually not a great fan of out-of-game pics, the plot-heavy way how you write this makes their inclusion very smooth (and of course you pick the right pictures too).

[Thokran]

@robinzx: Thanks, I'm happy to see that the interplay with Gilbert and Marie is shwoing through. Also, I was wondering what kind of reaction I'd get from the Skyrim pun.

@Maltacus: lmao, what can I say? The Aragonese have a wierd sense of beauty, either that or the Cypriots are just uncouth bastard who can't appreciate the aesthetic value of Aragonese beauty. I guess you can say the group's pretty hardcore, but what I'm trying to aim for in these next few posts is that 'home' is a commodity that they've taken for granted, and that the term 'home' becomes very subjective to perspective.

Thanks for the tip btw, I might have to try GIMP out and see if I can learn to use it effectively, might turn out useful later on. (And yes, I guess I have an obsession with all these jewels of the mediterranean . In reality, I'm just trying to offer different perspective from the usual male perspective. It just so happens all these female actors tend to be princesses so far, and that too can be redundant. Thankfully, given the plot-heavy nature of the story, not every female perspective has to be a from a princess. Hopefully that shows through in later parts.

@Radzeer: Thanks! I wasn'tsure how that last chapter was going to play out, given that there was so many changes of scenery in such rapid succession. Also, thanks for the nod on the out-of-game pics. I'mnormally not a fan of them, but given the limits of my computer's graphics, I also know I can't rely on stunning visual battles all the time, as they woiuldn't mesh well with the story. I hope that these pictures so far have been able to serve their purpose in setting the mood/setting/environment/etc for the story.


Anyways, school has me a bit sidetracked, but hopefully I should have an update in baye later on tonight, or tomorrow. Thanks again!