An Eastern Jewel in a Western World !!! Chronicles of a French Miserable.

[la coupe est pleine]

Prelude

Here is my first AAR. I use the DLV 6.2 mod, which is quite wonderful.
VH/VH.
With all options on.


I want to thanks all the modders who have helped doing this amazing mod, which is from far my prefered one.
I’m a bad froggy from Britanny, just studying this year in Edinburgh (not enough to write perfectly, toutes mes excuses). Vive la “auld alliance”, au passage .
And as I’ve never seen any DLV French AAR, I will start mine.

All the insults you can find are story ones and nobody has to take them into account, of course. It helps me to understand better the beauties of the British language, and it helps the story to be more accurate, real and sadly medieval …


I hope you to enjoy my first try.

[la coupe est pleine]

An Eastern Jewel in a Western World!!!

Chapter I : Genesis

I’m called Philippe, as my father, Philippe Auguste, the well-known king of France. I’m the third son of the family and therefore, my civil position is one of the best all around our holy kingdom. Seemingly, I’m lucky.
In fact, my life is all but lucky. Here is my trouble story, and it starts years ago now.

I remember clearly when I was playing in the front of my father house in the countryside of Acres. I was called Muhammad Sahadeddine, and my father was a rich Arabic merchant. He was daily dealing with the Frankish lords of the kingdom of Jerusalem, sending them eastern products he was getting from Bagdad, like his grandfather before, and all our known ancestors.
My memories are bad but I still remember the times spent between the arms of my mother, seeing the great cogs in the city harbor, where men coming from the other part of the world, were spreading in the kingdom, searching for glory but behaving mostly like evils.
The crusaders. The holy warriors…

Once, it came during my 5th, that a new man coming directly from France started governing our Kingdom Future. Guy de Lusignan. Nothing more than the second son of a random French aristocratic family. And it was a bad luck. Lords of the kingdom weren’t unified, Guy would like to fight Saladin, and the dark days arrived…
The ambiance between religions was becoming worst each day. Some fanatic crusaders would like to forbid Muslims and Jewish the right to live in the kingdom.
One Saturday morning, my father was slaughtered in the streets by some evil crusaders, and my mother, fearing for my fate, sent me to the Lord of Acre: Conrad de Boulogne.
I remember my cries. I remember the sobs of my mother. Conrad decided to send me to the Royal Court of Paris, with the first merchant boat leaving the harbor. Conrad was one closed friend of Philippe Auguste, king of France.

And amazingly, the king decided to bring me up in his family, with his other children. I was “quite” a royal boy now. Obviously, I wasn’t supposed at all to be king or even a lord, but I was living in the royal family during my childhood. I was enjoying with my “brother” Michel, just one year more than me.
Louis, the Royal Dauphin, was old enough to be fighting in the south of France and I’ve hardly seen him.
After the first times of exile, I started to forget my previous life in Palestine. I enjoyed good times with Michel, practicing sophisticates jokes against maids who were supposed to look after us. We were sometimes walking in the dark streets of Paris and I experienced for the first time the view of the snow. I started to be used with that host country.

France was not in war, but a lot of rebels were annoying the royal king and the nobility. The feudal parceling of the territory was a source of rebellion and several lords were proclaiming their independency against the Royal Kingdom. My brother Louis was fighting in the South against Cathars heretics and some war-lords were maintaining peace in the North.
France feared about the Normand-english yokels and also the Holy Empire threat in their back. But they were keeping quiet since dozens of years.
Some skirmishes happened sometimes between royal strength and bloody rebels.



I remember well some veterans who were telling kids stories of epic battles, of adventures. Their scars faces were the remains of rebel’s arrows and swords, and watching that, I was also hoping to be a man who could be as chivalric as my father, as fearful as my brother, as brave as Charlemagne himself.

Family speaking, my only “sister”, Marie Capet, has been sent in Normandy, just after I arrived in France. In theory, she was supposed to have diplomatic relations with the English snakes, but this damned girl felt in love with the bastard son of the English King. It was supposed to be because of the tongue (the tongue accent of course). Philippe Auguste could have slaughtered even the Pope when he heard this new. But unfortunately, he wasn’t able to kill his “ing” daughter, hidden behind Caen walls (he would have loved to do that, to wash the dishonor of an English rape by the honor of a French sword).
He decided to slaughter some rebel’s lords in the North of France instead.



Fortunately, in the same time, Louis, my elder brother, has had the “amazing” idea to marry the Novgorod daughter, Anastasia, because he was fond of blond hair and Russian accent. It helps the kingdom to find an ultimate ally, the “fearful” Novgorod Empire. Even some peasants were joking about that ridiculous alliance.
Louis was very annoyed of these rumors and started to be a fearful lord of war, annihilating some Cathars villages and raping each girl during his Chevauchées. He was known as “Louis sans merci” (Louis the Merciless). Even one hundred spears raised against him couldn’t stop his fighting spirit and deadly arm.




My father wasn’t very pleased about that fearful kid because he was the exact opposite, Saint of the Knights patron. He loved chivalry more than his wife and required one tournament a week not to be angry. He was also proud of his crown and sword which were both from Charlemagne. I was often asking him to touch Joyeuse, the wonderful diamond incrusted sword. Deadly wonderful.


There were the only news I heard during my French early childhood. I stayed in Paris, with Michel. We were sometime fighting with wooden swords. And I was always the “sarrasin”, when he was the holy knight, crusader for the Pope. Philippe, my father, quite enjoyed to see these battles but was pretty disappointed at the end because each time, the “holy crusader” was slain on the floor…

Ah!!!! Lucky and felicitous childhood...

[la coupe est pleine]

Hi guys,

I was wondering:
I've posted the same first chapter in the general AAR forum, as explained in one post.
Should I continue to do the same parralel process, or should it be better to just put a link on one of the threads?

Thanks

[Coeur de Lion]

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!!

Great to see a new AAR on the DLV forums, +rep for the courage to take the first steps

Firstly, great start, I like the idea you are building of your character 'Philipe'...will add good depth to a campaign.
Secondly, and to answer your question, you would probably be better directing people to this thread and just posting updates on the main AAR forum...it might bring more people here to look at DLV as well.

I shall pay very close attention to this my friend, I wish you the best of luck and all the stength and determination you need to carry on.

Yours,
CdL

[la coupe est pleine]

Cheers mate,

I'm glad you have not found the start too much boring.
I've delibarately chosen to focus on Philippe (same name of his father, a little confusing isn't it?), who is just one year old when the campaign start. Thanks to that, and as you said, I can easily develop some of his feelings.

Then, I thought about the 2 threads problem. And I think you are right, it could be nice if I succeed to catch some people there. However, I will continue for the beginning to post in the two forums simultaneously, in order people be more familiar with the story.
I hope it could work.

A new update tomorrow I think.

[la coupe est pleine]

Chapter II : Childhood and trouble mind

Around 10, I’ve started to understand who I was really and I didn’t know which side to choose. The side of my beloved parents, the side of the “sarrasins”, oppressed in the Iberia peninsula, oppressed in the Kingdom of Jerusalem…
or the side of my host family, the side of the honor and chivalric tournaments, the side of Joyeuse and Charlemagne, the side of Michel, my friendly “brother”…
I was sure about one thing. My enemy was the Pope that I considered as the main responsible of this disaster, the responsible of the death of my father and family because he sent those bloody crusaders in my motherland. The enemy was called Pope Alexander III of Patrimonium Sancti Petri. The relations with the kingdom of France weren’t enthusiastic at all. I often heard my father insulting him in front of other lords because of his lack of gratitude. And this “dirty rat” of Pope was only 43 years old.
I just hoped that some cardinals will help him to be buried sooner than expected.

My mind stayed youth and impressionable but I was explained what war was. I was explained the rudiments of political strategy. And I was also explained who were our hereditary enemies: the swine English’s.
Thanks for our diplomats, we were allied with the Teutonic knights (again some bloody crusaders) and the “Lega Lombarda”, but no French lord was ready to trust a sneaky Italian.

In the same time, my elder brother succeeded to have a son with his Russian lady, unfortunately spoiling her during the achievement. She was unlikely to bless France with another son and potential heir. But Philippe was proud enough to have a grandson and organized 2 months of banquets. The kingdom was starting to be rich.





I was 10, and still in Paris. The devious devil, I mean the Pope obviously, had decided to launch a new Crusade against Cordoba, the Moorish’s capital. I was quite angry, despite my youth because I assimilated the Moorish with my old life, actually as every Muslim faction of the world.
Obviously, I was more concerned about playing with Michel and other kids of the Royal court, but when I could hear Philippe or other nobles talking about the Crusade, I was suddenly attentive and serious.

My fearful brother saw there the occasion to kill two birds with one arrow. He entered in Crusade without my father approval. Philippe was totally upset because we had no deal with the Moorish, and it is Castellans problems, not French’s. I remember my father breaking Louis’s statue in the royal castle with Joyeuse in one powerful blow.


However, Louis was fearful, but also wit. He hired loads of knights around Toulouse and decided to capture Narbonne, the last Cathar’s great town. There were heretic’s hordes and it wasn’t difficult for him to ask crusaders going there for a quick visit of courtesy.





Messengers reported Louis fought himself in the melee, and fought well, risking his proper life. But not for honor, just because of the bloody taste in the edge of his sword.



I was terrified to hear about that fearful brother. I learned that he was totally against my semi “adoption” because I would have been seen as a dishonor for the French Royal Family. He was threatening to go in rebellion if my father adopted me but he finally resigned, knowing that our father Philippe Auguste was famous, powerful, and beloved. When my father honored me with his own first name: “Philippe”, Louis was reported to fail dying of suffocation.

Louis succeeded to capture Narbonne, and it was not very good news for me. In secret, I would have preferred him to be killed by a peasant spear.

France’s people, from the nobility till the miserable peasants around the countryside, were pleased about that news because they were waiting for fight, for conquest, and for glory.

Louis was there for butchery, but sometimes, butchery rimes with glory… (in British actually ).



My father Philippe decided to celebrate this new era of conquest by ordering 2 new months of parties. It means that we had celebrated 4 months without stopping. Even my brother and I were fed up with all that noise in the castle.
We knew every trick of the king fool, we were eating stag each day, and we were having new presents every morning…
It was sooo boring.

At the end of these annoying celebrations, I was celebrating my 11th birthday. I would have preferred to stay all day in my bed, better than doing a day more of celebrations.
4 months and 1 day… “ Oh là là, C’est terrible ! “

I was waiting for adventure, revenge and conquests…
Not for luxury, food and gifts…

[Coeur de Lion]

Nice update! You are doing an excellent job of portraying the young Phillipe as a brooding young man who doesn't feel at home in his surroundings.
Good work, I'm interested to see what happens here.

CdL

[la coupe est pleine]

Chapter III : Real life, and first threats

Around my 13th, we heard that the sob crusade of that whore of Pope had succeeded. Unfortunately, it was the Castellans who had the supreme “honor” to achieve it. It was reported that Louis arrived just at the end of the fights and was forbidden the entry of the city by the new owners. I couldn’t imagine how upset he should have been. After 2 years of forced walk inside the deserted Iberian peninsula….Better not to be in his army at that time.

Apart for that, the life was going as usual in Paris and the Kingdom. As usual in our feudal country, some French lords loved to show their nobility and chivalry in the war-field. Even dismounted. These acts of glory were played and sung everywhere in the kingdom by hordes of troubadours, at my great pleasure.



I reached the age of 14th, avoiding diseases and death. It was not as easy to live in Paris because of all that dump in every street. Fortunately, I was able to ride now and also to go to the university. The well known and recent Paris University. Instead of going in strike like my fellows comrades, I was learning the sciences and the history. It helped me understand better the history of my people, and to hate better our piggy Pope.

I was learning the principle of Archimedes, applied to the floating materials, when a tiny librarian rushed screaming everywhere. I was quite annoyed about that stuff and ordered her to shut up if she doesn’t want her blood used for my next physical exercises.
She cried saying that, in all cases, it will be the same because Paris is besieged by the “invincible general Edward”. What?
- "Invincible Edward?" I repeated.
I asked her if it was the famous English swine king. But she replied angrily that it wasn’t an English swine, but a Flander general.
I rushed out, go in the top of the city walls to see a nice Flander’s army making its quarters outside the suburbs. But Edward wasn’t a lord and he could have no chance against the French Nobility, I thought. The only problem is that I learned several hours later than no noble were still in town, just my father and his bodyguards, with some militia.

Aïe aïe aïe !!! It wasn’t a very pleasant situation. Philippe Auguste was not in a really good mood too. I asked to help him but he said that I and my brother had better play toys than speaking of men fights. I was clearly upset because I knew that my father didn’t know anything about Archimedes, and still considered me as a child. At the opposite, my brother, who was 15th, was very ease about that situation and preferred to play with his little wooden horses in his bedroom. He was fed up with fights, wars and stuff like that since I slaughtered him for the 523th time at playing “sarrasin” against “holy crusader”.
After some days of siege, riots started to occur in Paris, and I preferred to stay in the castle. Some guards had been slaughtered by the population and it was better playing wooden horses, maybe.
Philippe was thinking about going alone in order to kill all these devils but everybody advised him to stay safely at home. Maybe he played also wooden horses. With us three, we could have done a great battle, for sure.

However, after 2 winters and snowy months of hopeless waiting, some spotter saw an army arriving from the south. Hourrah, it was a French army. The East border army led by Guillaume de Lyon, our greatest general, who was rescuing the royal family, and the Paris people just after.



Time for the fight had arrived, and those ing Dutch pikemen will be quite surprised…



Philippe Auguste, the chivalric King of our proud kingdom, decided just to come out the walls and start the fight. I was glazing at him when he put his beautiful shining armor, the best one all over the world, as were saying our troubadours. Then, he took his crown, jumped in his saddle, and seized Joyeuse out of his scabbard. Everyone was staring at him and he shouted:
- “ Montjoie Saint Denis, à l’attaque !!” “Ne faites pas de quartier mes amis…”.

It was clear that the beautiful snow will be spoilt by rivers of blood before the sunset.
With his bodyguards, he walked in the front of his little army and put them in order of battle, facing the much more imposing Flander’s army.

I was looking at the battle since the city walls, and I clearly saw the dreadful cavalry charge of Philippe knights. Philippe hadn’t waited for his reinforcements and decided to fight alone. Fool father. But what a beautiful moment to see all these proud knights running in front of death, in the white field!!!

Fortunately, Philippe was clever enough not to charge directly the pikemens, but some bowmen waiting for their death. It was done within a second and I remember the sound of the long chivalric lances crushing in bloody defenseless corpses.

However, the Dutch pikemens were running to protect their friends and slain the chivalric king.

Philippe was tricky and decided to run back, fleeing for a moment the heart of the battle and ordering his militia spearmen to enjoy the pikemens ability instead of him.

Just that moment, I heard a powerful horn behind the Flanders army. I succeeded to discern the war flags of Guillaume de Lyon. The laughing Edward was just trapped by the French intelligence…
And it wasn’t that all. Guillaume de Lyon‘s army was quite essentially composed of peasants crossbowmen, and General Edward’s army didn’t counted any horseman. Their fate was out.

I felt some grief, seeing those poor pikemens decimated by peasants. Where were the French nobility in that dump? I was expecting bravery, I was waiting for epic duels between champions… I was not there to see some peasants taking the entire honor by throwing arrows from some dirty bows and crossbows.

The pikemens were defenseless against those firing cowards.

I thought that it was easier to do their bloody job than even to play wooden horses against my brother Michel.



Without an hour, the remnants of the fearful Edward’s army were laying under the bloody snow. Fortunately, the bowmen decided to send fired-arrows and it was quite a good view to see clouds of fire raining on the poor Edward’s bodyguards.

Like a witch, he was burnt. Unlike a witch, it was done without pyre under him.
Poor Edward!!!



A new victory for the Kingdom!
I was proud about the chivalric charge of my father. I remember having heard him hours describing the fear in the faces of Dutch people he was slaughtering with Joyeuse. What a sword! She has never failed since Charlemagne, and she was promised a long fate…

I was literally dreaming. I was in a fictive word. Joyeuse in my fist. Crushing foes in the battle field. Fighting for conquest, glory and honor…

[la coupe est pleine]

Ok, I've changed the title.

Indeed, when I connected to implement the 3rd chapter, I thought that even a little kid could have found a better title than the previous stupid one.
(Atheism Rage, and Troubles!!! for those who want to laugh ah ah ah...)

[Darkan]

Nicely done so far. It's been a while since anyone posted. Keep up the good work and be sure we'll keep reading it. Ohh, here's to the pope getting himself slightly injured on those many steps of the Vatican. I wonder, will the two "brothers" that play wooden horses will have to play real horses someday? Hope I'm not spoiling anything.

[la coupe est pleine]

Nicely done so far. It's been a while since anyone posted. Keep up the good work and be sure we'll keep reading it. Ohh, here's to the pope getting himself slightly injured on those many steps of the Vatican. I wonder, will the two "brothers" that play wooden horses will have to play real horses someday? Hope I'm not spoiling anything.

Thanks Darkan.
The two "brothers" will surely stop to play wooden horses soon. You can be assured of that.

After some holidays, I can finally continue the story.

[la coupe est pleine]

Chapter IV : Sparkling family

Snow disappeared once spring morning of March. It was the day where Michel, my friend and brother, was entering the life as a man, and was supposed to take responsibilities. Michel was a coward, all the opposite of his chivalric father and brother, but he was clever and knew how to lead men. During some of our talks, he was explaining me that the fate of a kingdom wasn’t dealt with battles, but with the diplomacy and management of people.

- “You could win a thousand epic battles without expanding your land and your people” he often said to me.
I wasn’t very aware of his advices. I was just boiling, waiting for having my own battle steed, and war sword. Waiting for fighting under the rules of chivalry, waiting to protect the poor and the orphan from the cruel devils hiding in the darkness.
Anyway, Michel decided to stay in Paris and continue learning in the Royal University, with the help of lawyers and experienced diplomats.

My father agreed with him. It wasn’t a problem because he had his elder son, the Dauphin Louis, who was a “real knight”, as often said Philippe.

However, no news arrived from Spain. Where was Louis? What was he doing? Fearing some threats, Philippe decided to travel to the south of France in order to maintain his sovereign power and to search news from his hyperactive heir. I decided to go with him. I was fed up with the Parisian life, and Michel was busy with his work, and wasn’t playing a lot with me, despite our strong friendship.

The travel took us 6 months. We were discovering and inspecting each citadels and huge towns under the power of Philippe’s Crown. I was amazed about the diversified landscape. I’ve never seen mountains and we crossed some in the middle of France. It was beautiful… People loved Philippe and it was a pleasure to see their overjoyed face when they were gazing at us.
We finally reached the Citadel of Toulouse, and Philippe asked for some news of his heir. No-one knew what happened after the crusade of Cordoba. Philippe was angry and took the decision to go to Narbonne.

During the Toulouse’s stay, I saw some young nobles training their war skills, and I felt that my fate was to stay there and learn at their contact how to be a chivalric knight, how to be the most chivalric knight ever!

I asked my father Philippe to stay. I still think that he was annoyed about his disappeared heir and didn’t want to deal with other problems. In addition, one of the famous nobles leading Rheims died and Philippe didn’t know who could replace him because Rheims is the Catholic capital of France, and couldn’t be let in dirty hands.

Therefore, he finally decided that I was old enough to decide by myself now and agreed to let me doing what I thought I had to.

Here I am, Philippe Capet, one of the sons of the Holy Kingdom of France. I had the sovereign name but I just was allowed to be the equal of the other French nobles. Nothing more.

It was largely enough. I knew it.
I knew that this start will lead me to the stars.

Philippe Auguste, my beloved father, decided to trust me by giving me the Privy Seal. It was also a way to show that I was trustworthy. I knew perfectly that some dukes and counts were publically disapproving my rights.

Then it arrived. Two days before the expected departure of the king to Narbonne, we heard a noisy crowd in the citadel streets. I watched from my window and I saw what happened.
Louis Sans Merci, my elder brother, was back from his crusade. He was 36 now, and has spent 6 years in the Spanish countryside for nothing.

The family reunion might be “sparkling”…

Between my chivalrous father and the fearful heir, between the worshiper king and the heretic dauphin, we can easily forecast some “firing arguments”.

And it happened. I heard some ferocious and angry curses between them.
Philippe was angry not having any news and to be obliged to lose time seeking for his heir in the South of the Kingdom.
Louis was furious having spent 6 years of his life in Spain for nothing, missing to be killed by some “Sarasin” skirmishes, by some Mediterranean pirates and even by some Castellans ambushes.
I just entered the room during that argument time, because I was alone in the castle, doing nothing, so I thought it could be nice to see what happened behind that noisy door. What a bad thought.

When I entered, Louis Sans Merci fixed me and shouted:
- “What does that fuc-king bastard in the same room than me?”
He started to take his massive sword out of his scabbard when Philippe stopped him violently.

- “He is your adoptive brother, and I trust him like each of my child. Do not insult him anymore in my presence. Am I sufficiently clear Louis?” asked my father.

Louis was boiling but replied:
- “What are we talking about? Let’s discuss about important issues the Kingdom requires, better than that bulls-chit”.

Philippe ordered me to get out, and I clearly saw Louis staring at me with a fearful dirty look. My death was dancing in his dark eyes.



I flew outside the castle, pretty feared about these eyes, and also the strong deadly arm that belonged to Louis Sans Merci.

That day, I decided to take care about myself and most particularly to avoid as much as possible my brother. However, I was determined to stay in Toulouse in order to become a warrior, a knight, a fearless French noble…

[la coupe est pleine]

Chapter V : Threats of death

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Aide memoire:

Hello mates.
I’m Philippe. Philippe Capet, adoptive son of the French King. However, my real name is Muhammad Sahadeddine. I’ve been adopted because of an amazing coincidence. I’m just 16 years old and I wish to train my fighting skills in the citadel of Toulouse. I hope to become soon a hero of Chivalry, and help the poor and the orphans.
I know, I’ve read a lot of hero stories, but I’m a dreamer…

Philippe Auguste the Chivalrous.
It’s my adoptive father, but also the French King. He loves the Chivalric Code, enjoys finishing his day with a good tournament. He is a wise ruler and French people like him a lot. He is currently in Toulouse, with me and the heir Louis the Merciless.

Louis the Merciless.
It is my elder “brother”, and the Dauphin (heir of the kingdom). I have quite never seen him, because he stayed fighting in the South of France. He is a very skilled and fearful warrior. He can be qualified as a “butcher”.
It could be nice having a brother like that for a lot of kids. However, the problem is that he hates me…
He had just joined Toulouse and plan to do other conquest in the Iberia Peninsula.

Four days after that fateful encounter with Louis, Philippe Auguste decided to go back to Paris.

He was starting to ride his horse, at the head of the little convoy he was leading, when I said him a last “au revoir”. He saw the sadness on my face and was quite disappointed of my sorrow.
He said:
- “Philippe, if any problem occurs, just ask my help or the one of Louis. He likes you, don’t be worry about that. Au revoir Philippe and I wish to see a real knight when I will come back.”

He left the citadel, his crown shining under the sun.
A beautiful king, but he was totally unaware of Louis’s feeling about me. It saddened me a lot and I decided to be on my guards every single day I will stay near my fearful elder brother.




Louis was the governor of the citadel after the departure of the king. I tried to avoid him as much as I could. I was living and eating with the young nobles I was training with. Louis was staying in the dungeon, planning some new conquests against Zaragoza.
He had let the remains of his crusader army near Narbonne and they were expected to be ready for another raid in the Iberian Peninsula. I was strongly praying for him to leave Toulouse. And die against Spanish peasants if all could work well.

Unfortunately, he waited for spring to start his new campaign.
He left the town with the rest of heavy troops which were on the citadel.
The day before, he came to see me with his bodyguards. He was walking like a bear in the corridor and when he smashed in the door of my bedroom, I flinched like a feared rabbit.

- “Dirty infidel” he cursed at me “I’m leaving the citadel. When I will come back, I just want you to be dead or to have disappeared from the Kingdom. Be careful, I’m in a good mood but now and I let you the choice of your fate.”
I was livid and I just nodded. I knew that I could be slain by my elder brother if I just tried to stand up to him.
With an evil smile, he glazed a last time at me saying:
- “Philippe is quite old now, just imagine what could happen when I will be the rightful king. Just imagine, swine bastard…”
And he left the room.

I was shocked about what he said to me. The king who has ever protected me was far away now, and Louis could easily explain my death by a sad horse fall. I was totally “naked”, without protection, without protector. Without a single sword.




The new lord governing Toulouse, Charles de Bouillon, was a good ruler. I was often discussing with him of the life, of my story, of my loves. Indeed, I loved a young girl: Hélène. She was a maid in the castle. Her blue eyes were part of my nights.
I was writing some poetry for her but was unable to show her them. I was too shy. I would like to be a chivalric knight and take her with me in my white steed.

It’s why each day, I was training my skills, learning the chivalric code, defending the poor and the orphan to be as just as the respectful Philippe. The only thing I was lacking was the faith of God. I still hated the dirty Pope, like never before.




One day, the lord of Narbonne, an old French general, Pierre de Cervolles, arrived in a panic gallop in the citadel. He ran to find Charles de Bouillon. He was exhausted. I was with Charles and listened to the conversation. Pierre was fleeing Narbonne because a vast Moorish Army was following the coast, just toward Narbonne.
And no reinforcement was allowed because Louis had kept all with him in order to take Zaragoza.
- “Why aren’t you defending the town?” Charles replied angrily.
- “I just beg you some militia to defend easily Narbonne” said Pierre.
“And I also want to bring to the king a sword some inhabitants discovered few weeks ago.”

Pierre brandished the sword and I remember the brilliance of the edge. I’ve only seen one sword as prestigious as this one. It was Joyeuse, the well known King sword.
Everybody was silent, watching the jewel.

Pierre finally whispered:
- “It is the famous Durandal, the sword of the valiant Rolland, count of Britanny, and Charlemagne’s vassal. It is the unbreakable sword!
What a luck that we could use it again. I have to send it to the King.”

My blood just boiled and I ordered:
- “Give it to me, and I will personally send it to the King. Who else than his son, even adoptive, could do that mission better?”.
I quickly took the sword in my hands.

Nobody dared deny. They considered me like a bastard, or even like an infidel, but they feared too much my “father” to try whatever against me. I left the war room and ran into my bedroom to watch and try my new jewel. I was the new Rolland and ready to slaughter peasants for the crown. But my strengths were not enough to lift the sword like a warrior. I hide it under my bed and decided to train twice as much as I was doing before.

The months were fleeing and we heard some news from the Dauphin’s army. He was besieging Zaragoza. That was all. I prayed for a sudden death, but it was useless.

I was often talking with Hélène now. She was so kind and I didn’t know how to behave with her. We were sometimes riding in the countryside. When the weather was clear, we could see the Pyrenees Mountains. It was wonderful but I knew that the devil was behind that Rock barrier, and what could be my fate if he was coming back in our valley.

The Moorish’ army, threatening Narbonne, finally sailed to the Mediterranean Sea, because of a Jihad against my old Kingdom, the Jerusalem Kingdom. I was thinking about my old mother. I’ve no clear memories of her face. But I promised myself to find her, some days… Could have been right?


The winter arrived, and then a new spring. I was living a quiet life, with the training sessions, the talks with Charles de Bouillon, my friend, and the walks with Hélène. As always when everything goes well, there is an exhausted messenger to come with a sad message.
And it was the case.
An exhausted messenger arrived in the citadel and went to see Charles. The only difference is that the messenger was delighted:
- “Zaragoza is a French town. God bless our Kingdom. Louis is the rightful champion of our armies…”

Definitely, it was an exhausted messenger with a sad message. I saw my death in his delighted face. Louis will come back soon now. I should flee but all what I love was in that citadel: my friends, my love, and the hope of a chivalric fate…

I decided to pray and to stay. A knight doesn’t flee, so I couldn’t flee…
All was said.


The story of the capture of Zaragoza wasn’t long to spread in the citadel. Even Hélène was talking about that news during our walks.
- “What a good heir for our Kingdom! He will help France to be safe, to be strong and powerful! What a lucky boy you are to be his brother! “
It was too much for me and I left her in the countryside, hoping that I could escape this world which seems built to destroy me.


I knew the entire story. Louis spent 4 months starving the population but the lord of the city, Palo, was powerful and the city well supplied. Louis understood that there was no way of hope with waiting and decided to start the fight.

When the city door was destroyed, Louis rushed into and killed by his sword Palo, without waiting for his army. Within 10 minutes, the destiny was in the French Heir hands.



The troubadours couldn’t find such amazing chivalric event in every story they knew.

Louis, after the murder of the Zaragoza lord, decided to slaughter himself the poor remaining troops, which were shocked by the quick death of their sovereign.
He was said to slain 200 warriors by his own sword.



I was terrified of this dreadful news. Louis was a killer without mercy.
What will happen to me when he will come back in Toulouse to celebrate his glory?
The storm was still in the other side of the mountain, but it was just a matter of time.

Some other news reached the citadel. The Jihad was successful and the power of the Muslims Factions was known all around Europe. I was secretly pleased by that, even if I feared for my mother, staying at the middle of those religious wars.

Moreover, Guillaume de Lyon, the famous head general of French East borders Army, betrayed the Kingdom and fled with some Moors spies, to lead their armies.
I was puzzled by that.
How could such a famous general, at the head of one of the most powerful armies, decide to leave its country, its honor, its faith and its family just for money?
I would have preferred to die better than losing my honor. However, I thought that it could be a good new that Guillaume de Lyon, now with the Moors, met Louis Sans Merci.

There was a chance to see Louis dead, by that way…

[Coeur de Lion]

Great new chapters!! Thrilling read, you are very talented at portraying the moody Philipe...hopefully he will get his chance at fame and glory!!

[la coupe est pleine]

Great new chapters!! Thrilling read, you are very talented at portraying the moody Philipe...hopefully he will get his chance at fame and glory!!

Thanks for following this AAR. It is always nice to know that a good guy take an eye on that stuff.
Philippe has entered the real DLV life and he won't be idle...

[la coupe est pleine]

Chapter VI : Hopes and betrayal

Aide memoire:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Hello mates.
I’m Philippe. Philippe Capet, adoptive son of the French King. However, my real name is Muhammad Sahadeddine. I’ve been adopted because of an amazing coincidence. I’m just 19 years old and I am training my fighting skills in the citadel of Toulouse. I hope to become soon a hero of Chivalry, and help the poor and the orphans.
I know, I’ve read a lot of hero stories, but I’m a dreamer…
I’m currently fearing to see my “brother” Louis, but I know that he is coming back in Toulouse.

Philippe Auguste the Chivalrous.
It’s my adoptive father, but also the French King. He loves the Chivalric Code, enjoys finishing his day with a good tournament. He is a wise ruler and French people like him a lot. He is currently in the capital of the Kingdom: Paris.

Louis the Merciless.
It is my elder “brother”, and the Dauphin (heir of the kingdom). I have quite never seen him, because he stayed fighting in the South of France. He is a very skilled and fearful warrior. He can be qualified as a “butcher”.
It could be nice having a brother like that for a lot of kids. However, the problem is that he wants to see my dead…
He had just conquered and sacked Zaragoza and seems to be heading to Toulouse, where I am.

Charles de Bouillon.
Charles is the governor of Toulouse citadel, since Louis has left to conquer Zaragoza. Charles is my only real “friend”. He seems to like me and I think I can trust him.
He is not a warrior, but he is a clever leader, knowing a lot in the domain of diplomacy, economy and management.

I was 19. Still a weak fighter, even if my skills were increasing.

Charles de Bouillon came one night in my room and said me that he had found a strategy to help me against Louis.
The lord of Dijon, André des Vaux, was searching to marry his daughter, Azalais. Charles said that thanks to that marriage, I would be better accepted by the nobility and I could go to Dijon and have some high responsibilities, better than staying training in Toulouse.

He tried to convince me but I just couldn’t.
- “This girl’s name is worst than a rat one” I replied stupidly,
“And you know that I’m in love with Hélène. We plan to marry when I will be 20. I prefer to fight Louis better than marry a rat.”
Charles started to be angry and said me that then, if his friends are rats, he couldn’t do nothing to protect me from Louis’s bloody sword. He said me:
- “Au revoir!”.

Maybe I lost a friend this day. My only friend if I sum up. And the storm was ready to cross the Pyrenees. I promised me to ruminate my thoughts the next time I will speak.
I should become a leader, not a lonely destitute.

The time to marry “La belle hélène” was coming. We were already engaged.

One month before the marriage, rumors were spreading all around the citadel: Louis was coming back. He was supposed to bring with him 100 donkeys, loaded with gold. Zaragoza was a wealthy city and obviously, Louis had helped its people to lighten their pockets.

Louis will come back before my marriage. I was disheartened by that new. I couldn’t escape the citadel, because of the marriage. I couldn’t be protected by anyone, because of my argument with Charles de Bouillon. I was alone, facing my painful fate.

I was praying the sky, one evening, at the top of the city halls, when I saw a single horse-raider coming from the South. Maybe a scout of Louis’s army.
I stopped him and asked where he was coming from. He said that he had no time and should discuss with the governor of the citadel as soon as possible. I was quite disappointed that he didn’t knew who I was, but calmly, I explained him my rank, and he finally agreed to tell me his story.

I could hear some pride in his voice:
- “Louis, the Dauphin, was coming back to Toulouse when he heard about the new that the bastard coward general: Guillaume de Lyon, was riding in the neighborhood, trying to join the Moors’ Caliphate. So he decided to slain him by his arm, and he is supposed to fight him tomorrow.
Louis can’t lose, he is the kingdom Champion. He is the rightful Christendom Warrior.”

I was stunned!!
Louis had succeeded to intercept Guillaume de Lyon, the coward traitor, but also one of the best general France has had, the general who saved Paris and the King some years ago. My pleas could be achieved…
Guillaume was the man to kill my evil brother. When I ran to announce the new to Hélène, I was delightful. The life wasn’t so dark finally, and one angel was protecting me. Not a Pope angel, obviously.

I knew the skills of Guillaume de Lyon and I was confident, even if Louis was a mighty warrior, and slaughtered thousands of people. Guillaume was experimented and the years spent in the battlefield were advantages that couldn’t be forgotten.

It was a chivalric duel between maybe the 2 better knights of the entire kingdom. The fight of the Champions. It was quite a dreamed battle of honor.

I couldn’t sleep this night. My fate was linked with the result of this duel. The life or the death. The lips of Hélène, or the edge of a sword. A chivalric future or a soon burial.

I stayed all the next 2 days waiting at the city halls for some messenger. The 3rd day after the fight should have happened; I was totally overwrought and decided to ride in the countryside for the entire day. The mistake of my life!
Maybe what saved me in the same time…

I was riding back to the citadel before the evening. The sky was beautiful, blushing. It was an artistic view, with the yellow corn fields all around the citadel. A landscape of fire!
Strangely, the city was more quiet than usual. It was late, but not too much for making the citadel noiseless.
I rode until Hélène little cottage. I knocked, but there were no answers. My nerves, exhausted by 3 days of waiting, were working again, and I broke down the door. Nobody inside. Hélène wasn’t supposed working so late.

I rushed in the citadel, shouting her name. Then I saw Charles with 2 of his bodyguards at the corner of one corridor. With a screaming voice, I asked him where was Hélène, but he didn’t reply me and the next moment, the 2 bodyguards were running toward me…
I stayed petrified. Then I took Durandal out of its scabbard – indeed I kept the jewel with me, not sending it to the king, because I was also a little devious, despite my chivalric wishes - and tried to stop the 2 experimented bodyguards. I rushed in the first one, succeeding to push him on the floor, nearly knocked. I was ready for the fight with the second one, when I heard Charles ordering me “Stop that Philippe, I just want to…” and the rest of his phrase was lost in the noise done by the second guard wading upon me. I couldn’t cope against that strong warrior. I thought about using some cunning stratagem when a heavy blow behind my head thrown me violently on the floor. My mind lost in the darkness.
The first bodyguard, “nearly” knocked…

[Agis Tournas]

Very well written my friend...
Congratulations, +rep

[la coupe est pleine]

Very well written my friend...
Congratulations, +rep

Thanks a lot.
It is always a pleasure to know that some people, and not the least, are enjoying my story.
I hope you will like the new chapter.

[la coupe est pleine]

Chapter VII : Tears of fury

An de Grâce 1199 AC.
Royaume de France.
Somewhere in the countryside.

Aide memoire:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Hello mates.
I’m Philippe. Philippe Capet, adoptive son of the French King. However, my real name is Muhammad Sahadeddine. I’ve been adopted because of an amazing coincidence. I’m just 19 years old and I am training my fighting skills in the citadel of Toulouse. I hope to become soon a hero of Chivalry, and help the poor and the orphans.
I know, I’ve read a lot of hero stories, but I’m a dreamer…
I’ve just been knocked senseless by Charles de Bouillon, and I don’t know why. Funny, isn’t it?

Philippe Auguste the Chivalrous.
It’s my adoptive father, but also the French King. He loves the Chivalric Code, enjoys finishing his day with a good tournament. He is a wise ruler and French people like him a lot. He is currently in the capital of the Kingdom: Paris.

Louis the Merciless.
It is my elder “brother”, and the Dauphin (heir of the kingdom). I have quite never seen him, because he stayed fighting in the South of France. He is a very skilled and fearful warrior. He can be qualified as a “butcher”.
It could be nice having a brother like that for a lot of kids. However, the problem is that he wants to see me dead…
He is supposed to fight the traitor general Guillaume de Lyon, in a duel of honor…

Charles de Bouillon.
Charles is the governor of Toulouse citadel, since Louis has left to conquer Zaragoza. Charles is my only real “friend”. He seems to like me and I think I can trust him.
He is not a warrior, but he is a clever leader, knowing a lot in the domain of diplomacy, economy and management.
He has just knocked me senseless. Could he be a traitor, working for Louis?

When I woke up, I was laid down on a chariot. The chariot was running on a little and slopping road. I didn’t know that countryside. And then I realized. We were in the Pyrénées…
I jumped out and understood that I was part of an entire army. The road was full of warriors, spearmen, horsemen, and even some mailed knights.
I was stunned.

That moment, I heard a powerful voice shouting “Philippe!”, a voice I knew very well.
Charles de Bouillon, the citadel governor, was staring at me. He was on a white stallion, wearing a mail coat. It was the first time I saw him in his knight armor, and he seemed powerful.
- “Charles” I barked, “Where are we? Where is Hélène? Why have you knocked me? I’m ready to fight you whenever you want, but don’t ask your warriors to do your job, don’t you have any honor?”
- “Stop”, he ordered, “and listen to me, time has come to explain now. Sit down on that chariot and let me tell you the story, and assure me to listen until the end.”
I nodded.

Charles took a deep breath and started, his face saddened:
- “Before you came back in the citadel, Louis arrived from Narbonne, from his fight against Guillaume de Lyon. He was like possessed by the devil, covered of wounds, with just one bodyguard, nearly dead.
I learned that he was supposed to meet Guillaume in the top of a hill and to fight fairly against him. Guillaume was waiting for him. He wore some heavy armor the Moor sultan offered him. But the man was the same, as skilled, as powerful as when he was leading the French Army.

He was on the top of the hill with his bodyguards. They weren’t seeing Louis. It was natural, because Louis had brought his old friend in a trap.

Louis and his bodyguards, hidden in a church, were waiting for the best moment to launch the attack. Louis didn’t care about the honor or the chivalric code. Louis was there for the blood of the traitor.

He suddenly attacked, taking Guillaume by his unprotected flank, with the experienced and mighty French knights who were with him.

Guillaume was trapped!
However, the strong armor he was wearing and his veteran skills protected him from the powerful blow of the cavalry charge.
He shouted “Louis, bâtard, indigne héritier, je vais te tuer. Take care of my sword.”
And he began the slaughter amongst Louis’s bodyguards.

Ten of them were around him, they are all dead now.
Louis wasn’t losing his time at the other part of the fight. His sword was as bloody as before, and he knew how to avoid his enemy’s edge.

The butchery lasted 2 hours. 2 hours of blood, of screams. 2 hours in another world. Guillaume’s guards were overwhelmed by the French knights at the beginning, but their strong armors were the key point of the fight. The French cavalry wasn’t as well protected. And the chivalric spears were useless in close fight.
One by one, the French finest flower was falling over the bloody hill. Louis was fighting with the same fervor but soon, he was alone with his personal bodyguard, surrounded by more than 15 dreadful warriors.

For the first time of his life, Louis decided to flee. For the first time of his life, Louis was defeated, despite of his cunning trap.

Guillaume tried to chase him and kill the heir of the Kingdom, but the heavy armor were a crucial drawback during the track.

And Louis succeeded to escape the field.

With his last knight, he rode directly until Toulouse. 3 days riding. 3 days bleeding.
He reached the citadel, his eyes full of fire.

He went directly to find me in the castle, when he crossed Hélène.”
Charles said, glancing at me with a sad gaze.

- “Don’t stop”,
I replied, my heart near to burst in my chest.

- “He took her in my room, said me what happened with Guillaume, ordering me to gather the army in order to punish the traitor and the Moors for what happened. I nodded, and saw him taking Hélène in the first bedroom he found. I’m sorry Michel, she was one of the prettiest maids of the citadel and Louis is far from being a respectful knight…”

- “And what happened?” I shouted, menacing.

- “He tried to rape her. She cried that she was married with you, thinking that it could protect her. When he heard your name, Louis became again the devil he was when he slaughtered people of Zaragoza.
And he cut her throat… Please forgive me Philippe, I wasn’t expecting all that chaos.”
He finished, in a whisper.




I was destroyed. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t cry anymore. Even the lightning couldn’t have petrified me more than that news. I felt on my knees, soldiers watching at me, astonished about my behavior. And water suddenly came to my eyes, but water of fury, water of revenge.
I saw a horse and tried to jump on it to avenge my Hélène, my little love.
But Charles shouted:
- “No way, you will be killed before reaching Toulouse.
Just after killing Hélène, Louis asked for you, and I knew what he was expecting. His sword wasn’t bloody enough. I said that you disappeared one month ago, but he didn’t believe me, and he asked his guards to find you.
It was just when you came back. I decided to knock you, before to hide you. Now, we are crossing the Pyrenees, and we should join Zaragoza. Louis stays in Toulouse, recovering for his wounds.
But it is not all, unfortunately.”

I was still in the horse, but I agreed to stay with Charles. Actually, he was always my friend, my only friend, and he took an amazing risk by helping me. Louis was going to discover the plan soon, and he will come back in Zaragoza. Whatever happens, he will come back to Zaragoza.

I’m trapped again, but this time, Durandal will be ready for the fight, ready for the bloody revenge…

[Darkan]

Just letting you know I keep an eye on both threads. Who knows what games you post in one and not the other so I'm making sure. Ohh, by the way, I forgot to ask: how is Michel doing?