[SS 6.3 AAR] Letters Of An Aragonese Knight (Updated 1/13) Part I: Complete

[Exarch]

wow things sure have busy for King Jaime!

LONG LIVE THE KING!!

[Thokran]

1257 AD

It is a weird feeling to have experienced so much in such a short amount of time and have so little to say about it. This year has been a blur, and I can only seem to remember a few key moments. Everything else just seemed to be arbitrary in comparison. Everything that took place leading to invasion of Sardinia simply paled in comparison to the events of the battle itself.



As expected, the Moorish Caliph was on the isle of Sardinia, where he was building an invasion force to take back Tunis. When Marchena led the men to the walls of Cagliari, the Caliph chose not to hide behind his castle walls, but rather face us on the open field of battle. Today it would be Marchena leading the troops to battle. While I felt ready enough to lead the men, my bones ached just being atop my horse. Physically, I was not up to par with my younger comrades. My fighting days were well past me, or so I thought…



As the battle raged on, the Moorish Caliph must have caught sight of me. I do not remember how his men managed to slip past Marchena. All I remember is the clash of steel as his armored horsemen crashed into mine. My bodyguards did all they could to protect me, but it was for naught. The Caliph’s men had momentum on their side, and their lances tore through my men like a hot knife through butter. Once again I was forced into battle.



Things looked grim. With most of my guard dead, I and few select men were left to hold off the Caliph’s relentless strikes. I saw the captain of the guard sound out the horn for help before being cut down before my very eyes by one of the Caliph’s warriors. I lashed out in retaliation, and felt a tinge of satisfaction as my blade slit open my adversary’s throat.

Still, I was outnumbered and far from help. I swung away in desperation as I fought for my life. My fighting spirit was as strong as ever, yet my body seemed to lag behind. Every blow I blocked or parried sapped away at what little strength I had. I had greatly underestimated how frail I had become over the years. Still, I couldn’t give up. I would fight to the very end. I fought not only for myself, but for my family. I fought for Constanza and Millan. I fought for Marchena and Aragon. I fought for the memory of King Jaume and of my mother and sister. I would fight on into exhaustion, and never give this Caliph the enjoyment of surrender…

I did not want to die. There were still so many questions I had, and so many I cared for counting on me to return safely to them. But if I was to die on that day, I was going to die fighting until the very end.



God smiled upon me on that day, for it never came to that. Just as I thought that the end was before me, reinforcements swarmed in our position. The Caliph and his men had been so obsessed with trying to bring me down that they failed to see the reinforcements come at them from behind. The Caliph himself sought to strike me down, but was impaled by a foot soldier just in the nick of time. With his death, the Moorish attack dissolved and victory was assured.



Again, memory fails me as I try to recount the events that followed the event. What I do remember is seeking out the young infantryman who saved my life. He was the man of the hour, and he deserved to be rewarded for his valor. And so I summoned him to the castle at Cagliari and what I learned was nothing short of astonishing.



His name was Franco de Cabra, and he was surprisingly young to already be a captain of one of the spear regiments fighting on the frontlines. Even more surprising was that he was born in Tunis of all places, to an Aragonese mother. But the biggest surprise came when I asked who his mother was. His mother was none other than Marcia Encina, my own sister. This was my nephew!

Alas, fate would be a cruel mistress. For not a moment after I came to this stark realization, Prince Marchena barged in on us with dire news.



Tunis was burning. Troops were needed immediately. At once, Franco kindly excused himself and rushed off to the barracks while I was dragged to a war council with Marchena. And just like that, I was torn away from the closest thing I had to family in years.

[Exarch]

nice and bloody
+rep

[Robin de Bodemloze]

nice update as always.

I question the authenticity of this nephew as genuine Aragonese blood...sounds...adopted

[Radzeer]

Now this will be interesting. Nice update, and now we need moar.

[Thokran]

Thank you all for the support and positive feedback. I know I've been lazy with getting back to you guys, but school's been busy and more often than not I have just enough time to post the update, but not enough to respond to such wonderful feedback. I plan to remedy that in the future. Until then, all I can say is thank you so much, and enjoy this next update!



1258 AD



Franco de Cabra.

I still couldn’t believe that this man was my nephew. His presence only opened up more questions about my past. Who did my sister marry? When? How was she as a mother? When did she die? These were answers that this young captain held. Yet even now, so long after having learned the truth, I’ve been unable to grab a hold of him again. Franco has been fighting on the frontlines for weeks now, having been sent to Tunis to control the populace. The city was in open revolt, and there was little that Franco or the other Aragonese soldiers could do to quell the unrest. The source of such unrest came from far to the east.



Jerusalem had fallen, and the Crusade had been deemed a success. With the aid of several armies from Sicily, Hungary, and the Holy Roman Empire, the Kingdom of Jerusalem was restored its namesake capital, and the Ayyubid Egyptians that occupied the city were cut down to the man. I could not help but feel a bit ashamed. Though I knew it to be highly unlikely given the events of recent years, there was still a small part of me that desired to fulfill Marchena’s grandfather’s wishes and reach the Holy Land.



Alas, it was not meant to be. With the Crusade over, I could finally go back home to my family I so greatly missed. But now, I have other duties to fulfill. I have questions that need answering. I have a family history I need rediscovered. And I have a mess I need to clean up. The Moors openly revolted against our presence in Tunisia, expecting us to vacate their lands now that the Crusade was at an end. But I was too involved now. I couldn’t leave just yet. I needed answers, and by God I would have them.

And so I took the initiative.



Marchena was celebrating the birth of his second son when I approached him. I was relieved to hear that his wife Sancha had arrived the year before and that the child was not a bastard. Still, I’m sure he wasn’t prepared for what I was about to tell him. I approached him to inform him of what is to be my final executive order as Regent Lord of Aragon. I would lead the army stationed at Cagliari to attack the port of Al-Mahdiya, the source from which the turmoil in Tunis stems out of. My plan will be to raze the city and use it as leverage to gain peace with the Moors. In doing so, Tunis would remain an Aragonese outpost to keep vigil over the Moors, for those Muslims could not be trusted in ever maintaining a peaceful relationship with Aragon.



Nevertheless, leading the attack on Al-Mahdiya would be my final act as regent. In the past few years, Marchena has grown a lot, and I see him fit to lead our people into a new, more prosperous generation. He is no longer the brash and reckless boy that I first met in Barcelona. War has hardened his heart and made him a much more cautious and calculated man, which will make him all the wiser in the long run. I have faith that he will be a great King, the one Aragon needs now more than ever.

Joining me in this trip will be Franco de Cabra. I have every intention to learn everything I need to know about the lives of my mother and sister through him on this campaign. I have every intention to inform him of his true lineage and plan to promote him accordingly. And then I vow to retire to Palma, where the rest of my family eagerly awaits my return. Like that, I can live long enough to raise my children and die a happy man alongside my lovely wife.



May God guide me through these final days here in Africa, so that I can spend the rest of what short life I have left to live in peace with those I love and cherish most.




Sincerely,
Lord-Regent Jaime Encina
King of Aragon

[Scottish King]

I just caught up with all the updates I've miss and let me say u have done a great job with this. Keep up the good work!

[Exarch]

pls don't die, Regent

[Thokran]

Thank you all for your support, it's always appreciated! Just wanted to give a quick reminder that the MAARC is taking place right now, so make sure to go and vote for your favorite AAR!

Jaime's story is coming to a close soon, but perhaps the end of his story will lead the beginning of someone else's story...the legacy always lives on.

Enjoy!




1259 AD

Fire and brimstone. Death and despair. Is this how I am to spend my final days? Is this what awaits me in the afterlife? So much has happened, and yet now there is so little I can do about. The sack of Al-Mahdiya was a success, if you can even call it that. The city was put to the sword in an effort to crush the Moorish resistance to our presence in Tunisia. However, despite our attempts to quell the populace, the city remained in open revolt. Time and time again, these civil uprisings kept me from revealing the truth to my nephew.



And now, I may never have a chance to tell him the truth. Just a week ago, the city erupted in strife again, and I went in leading the men to keep their rioting in check. I never saw the ambush coming. The revolt was simply a ruse to get me out of the safety of the headquarters we had established at the city hall. My would-be assassins struck hard and fast. Immediately, I had flashbacks of my childhood friend and would-be future King of Aragon, Prince Alfonso. He had been cut down by the treacherous blade of an assassin. I flashed back to Toulouse, where I somehow managed to botch an assassination attempt on my Jaume in a drunken haze. And then I snapped back to reality as I felt the sharp blade pierce through my armor and sink into my flesh.

The assassin stabbed hard into my side, which exploded in excruciating pain. But I would not allow him to capitalize on his momentary success. Using reflexes I thought I had lost many years ago to my advanced age and deteriorating health, I lashed out with my blade and felt the steel slash across my assailant’s throat, spraying me in a gushing fountain of red. Just as quickly as I had killed the first assassin, I struck out to the other two, who were too taken back by my sudden burst of speed to react properly. Running on sheer warrior’s instinct, I ran one through with my blade before striking hard at the other one, cutting off my attacker’s arm before he could plunge his blade into my chest.

The sole surviving assassin cried out in agony at the shock of losing his arm, but his cries of pain attracted the attentetion of the raging mob nearby. Upon seeing me, they rushed at my position. No amount of experience with a blde could protect me from their relentless attacks. They crowded and pummeled me to the ground, pelting me with all sorts of stones and debris they could get their hands on. I cried out for help, but it was drowned out under the unrelenting rage of the mob. To them, I was an object they could unleash their frustrations on, for I represented everything they hated. Their blows came down over and over again, cracking ribs and breaking bones with each subsequent strike. I knew then that I was to die, never to complete my many goals. I lay there and awaited death until everything went black.

Alas, death was stalled, if only for a moment. I woke up hours later within the city halls, where I learned that Captain Franco de Cabra was the first one on the scene. I learned of his valiant effort to save my life. Yet again, I owed my life to this man who did not even know that I was his uncle. He visited me many times over this past week, but each time I was either fading in and out of consciousness, or simply unable to speak. One of the mobbers had stomped down on my neck, impairing my ability to speak. My only form of communication with others now comes through writing.

Not like it matters. My death has only been prolonged. The doctors say that I suffer from internal bleeding, and that they cannot repair the damage done by the assassin’s stab wound. Slowly but surely, I will bleed to death. My fate is sealed. So much to do, and yet I will never live to see it all completed…

I will never get to see the Holy City of Rome as my King had done before me. Rumor had it that the fickle bastard that is Pope Honorius the Wise had passed on, and that an Aragonese Cardinal had risen to become the new Pope. It would have provided me the perfect reason to travel and gaze upon the wonders of that ancient city.



I will never reconcile with my old friend and comrade Alvar Galan, for news arrived that he had passed on into the Kingdom of Heaven last month…



I will never see my family in Palma again. It seems that my beloved wife had also gone on to be with God. I know she likely died of loneliness and a broken heart, and for that I may never forgive myself. I will never see my son grow up to become the great man he is destined to be…



I can’t but feel like I am the last of my generation, the last one left living to assure that the next generation would be ready to take up the mantle of leadership. Having seen the worth and valor of young men like Marchena and Franco, I could take peace knowing that they were ready to lead Aragon into a new glorious age.

If I am to die, then I plan to ensure that my legacy lives on, and that my story be not forgotten. Attached to this letter I will write my will, and upon my death I will transfer all of these letters I have written to my family and to the rightful heir to the Crown of Aragon, the future King Marchena.

I have lived a long a fruitful life. It has not been an easy one, but it is a life I do not regret. I married the woman I loved, fostered children I cared for, and served my Kingdom to the best of my ability. War and political intrigue may have besmirched my otherwise peaceful life, but I do not regret any of it. Even now, I take solace knowing that my family will live on in a better Aragon than I lived in.

My time has come and gone. The Lord beckons me to join him, alongside everyone who I ever loved. Alfonso, Alvar, Carlos, Constanza, Maria and Marcia were all waiting for me. It’s about time I join them.
As my last entry in this lifelong series of letters, I hope that any who read this learn something from reading about my life’s experiences. I bid them nothing but the best, and that God guide their souls to salvation as he did with me.

God Bless.




For the everlasting Glory of the Kingdom of Aragon,
King Jaime Encina, Regent-Lord of Aragon

[Robin de Bodemloze]

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Thorkran you are a cruel cruel man...

Brilliantly emotional finale I must say. Pure genius.

Will poor Franco ever learn the truth? Is he the man to inherit Lord Jaime's legacy? Will Franco and Marchena share leadership of Aragon easily? Coming soon in Thorkran's next AAR. Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnn

[Scottish King]

O.O That was surprising!

[The Source]

fantastic finale, im guessing that if you were to continue this aar, it would be a dual first person style of both marchena and franco?

[Thokran]

Haha, thanks everyone for the support, it's nice to see that the last chapter was received so well. Everything will sort of reveal itself in the coming updates, so I don't want to spoil anything. All I can say is that this is just the beginning of the overarching story, and I look forward to sharing the rest of it with you all over the coming weeks/months.

[Radzeer]

Terrific update!
I really like your writing style, and I think this first person storytelling really brought it out. Kudos on the masterful finish, and of course the hint that some new things are on the horizon too!

[shinpad]

I've basically registered an account on here just to tell you I've been following this with intent. Very well written and I've enjoyed it tremendously. Looking forward to the next updates!

[Captain Zoran]

Jaaaaaaaime!!! Noooooo!

I'd just like to say, your writing is truly amazing and gripping Thokran. I enjoyed your Ostermark AAR immensly, and this even more! I really hope it doesn't end! Perhaps have Jaime's son can continue the story? A begrundled son to father who was never really there?

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Saw today and read the first chapter, I was hooked!! Just finished reading all of it (I know), brilliant

Well done

[Exarch]

no, no no, tragedy!!

this cannot be!!

King Jaime, pls live!!
you have to see Rome, see it with your own eyes....

[Thokran]

1260 AD



I never expected to come across these letters, as I had no knowledge they even existed before today. Now that I have seen them however...it is as if my eyes have at long last been opened.

Our beloved King, Jaime Encina, has passed on into the Kingdom of Heaven, taken from this world by the treacherous wounds he suffered at Al-Mahdiya. This has left me, Marchena, as next in line to the Crown of Aragon.





When I first learned of Jaime's death, I immediately set sail for Al-Mahdiya. I could not believe it until I saw it with my very eyes. Sure enough, the old man had passed on. He seemed...at peace, a far cry from the constant stress he had to deal with in the final years of his life. Perhaps now the old man would be able to enjoy the peace he so greatly yearned alongside his family in the true Kingdom of Heaven. It was then as I was paying my respects that my eye caught sight of these documents.

Suffice to say, they have blown me away.

His personal documents, a series of letters that accounted his trials and tribulations year by year since he was but a youth, revealed to me a side of Jaime I had never been privy to before. There are very few alive today who could say they knew Jaime on this level, and I certainly was not one of them. Nevertheless, it would seem that Jaime would not want his legacy to be forgotten, for at the very of these letters he left behind his personal will, within which he demanded that these letters be entrusted to me as the next King of Aragon before being passed on to his son Millan in Palma.

Within his will are a series of specific orders he hoped to see accomplished. Among them was the specific request that I follow in his footsteps and write one final series of entries to honor his memories and assure that the orders of his will are carried out so as to preserve his legacy.

So, here I am then. I will not lie and say that I will carry out all of my late king's former wishes, as I too must assert my own agenda if I am to be seen by my people as a strong King. Nevertheless, over the next couple of years, I plan to carry out my lord's wishes, and see to it that his legacy is never forgotten.

I know that I can not do justice to the masterful work he has left behind, but I will do my best regardless.

There is much work to be done.

Glory to Aragon!


Sincererely,
King Marchena of Aragon

[Robin de Bodemloze]

Huzzah! The story continues!

I will not lie and say that I will carry out all of my late king's former wishes, as I too must assert my own agenda if I am to be seen by my people as a strong King. Nevertheless, over the next couple of years, I plan to carry out my lord's wishes, and see to it that his legacy is never forgotten.

Will be interesting to see what agendas Marchena has now that he is king, and how they differ from the old King Jaime's. Glory to Aragon!