Born anew, Poland AAR

[Alwyn]

I agree with Turkafinwë! There's plenty of dramatic action, engaging lines (like "He remembered the first life he took") and snappy dialogue. Perhaps it would help to occasionally set the scene a bit more? A writer has a clear understanding of who their characters are and why they're doing what they're doing - but readers might not be so clear. As Turkafinwë said, this is a great chapter.

[HuliganFish]

Thank you for the criticism! I think you're right, and I should have dedicated more time to fleshing our the last post.
This post sat in the corner for quite a while, so I do apologize for dissapearing from the forum.

I intend to continue this AAR throughout next week!





|Vilinus, Summer of 1290|

Part one; A conflict of interests

To Boleslaw's right, Hockmeister Konrad von Feuchtwanger bore into his food lazily, and by his side, other Order officials and members of the administrative branch.

To the left, representatives of the Holy See with their armored escort. They were far more talkative and enthusiastic than the Teuton guests, and in the several days they have stayed in his castle would often try to conduct as many discussions and debates as possible.

And before him knelt Góttve and an assortment of his lessers, all minor princes or chieftains of the pitiful Pagan resistance. The pagans looked tired, their eyes were sunk and bleak, almost glassy, despite the light that shone in the room.

Boleslaw studied Konrad. The Hockmeister wasn't much taller than him, but he was broader and stockier, a muscle-bound swordsman who has held the Baltic in his iron grip and had much success with culling the Pagan populace and putting them under the Church's sway.

He idolized the man. Of course, he couldn't ignore the fact that his own actions in the Baltics have given the Teutons a fertile ground to tread upon, and yet- he still found himself recalling legends and mouth pieces told about the Hockmeister. In him, the Teutons found a capable tactician, a pious man of the faith and an unbeatable warrior.

Boleslaw could only wonder- would his own name ever hold such weight?

A robed cleric pushed to a stand, the excess fat on his chin swaying back and forth as he looked to his left and to the right

"Today," his powerful voice boomed, commanding the attention of all the gathered "These brave men before us are embraced into the fold of our Lord, and escape the long reaching talons of Lucifer, who has deceived them into false worship. Today, the men and women under their charge are washed clean of sin and bloodshed, so they may begin their life anew as pious Christians!"

Various palms rocked the table, and several men cheered. Much like Boleslaw, Konrad adopted a stoic complexion, eyeing the savages critically.

"You are here by dismissed," Konrad's accent-touched words were aimed at the newly Christianized natives "Or was that not clear?"

Góttve offered the knight a long, even glare "Not until I know what will become of my people. You promised safety and an end to the conquest. Will you keep your word?"

Boleslaw watched the exchange with interest, his own mouth shut. The cleric cleared his throat again; "The future of your realm will be decided by you, of course. Should the word of our Lord not be passed as promised, then the Holy See will have no choice but to forcefully rectify your wrong-doings."

Góttve rolled a shoulder at that, and finally relented by turning his back to the gathered. His entourage followed suit, leaving the men to bother with their politics and debates.

"Finally!" One of the Teuton knights, a rather young, clean shaved man pushed back his chair and casually reached for a satchel- from which he conjured a map and spread it evenly upon the gathering table. The knight began to populate the map with landmarks- from roads, to villages, cities and lakes.

Konrad joined the knight and leaned over the table, and he was joined by the clergy, and finally, Boleslaw.

The Hockmeister placed a tiny wooden slab underneath Riga and Vilinus, signifying each parties' claim within the Pagan lands before opening his mouth; "As you may know, Boleslaw, the Order, funded by both the Holy See and the Holy Roman Empire, had laid claims to these lands. We do not care for the natives as much as we care to install a legitimate governing body upon these savages to ensure they follow the treaty," he looked up from the map to appraise Boleslaw's features.

"That is unfortunate" the heir leaned back and turned to appraise Konrad in the same fashion. Around him, the emissaries of both factions and his own men were awe-struck, blinking with evident surprise. "But you are mad if you think both I and my father would bend the knee before the Empire and its dogs. Me and my men cleaved this land. We severed the head and trod upon the withering body. The men that remained in my wake have all adopted the word of Christ."

Konrad paced around the table, slowly inching his way towards Boleslaw.

"And so, I see the Piasts are still hot tempered and senseless as before the war. Were two heirs not enough of a price for your father, boy?"

Konrad's men slowly reached for their swords, as did the men representing the Holy see.

"You never came here for the treaty, didn't you?" Boleslaw placed a palm upon the hilt of his blade, his eyes boring unto Konrad's "You came here for war."

Boleslaw's own retinue took arms and drew their tools of war- axes and maces, swords and spears.
A long silence dominated the chamber.

The cleric hoisted his palms "Come now, surely you don't mean to draw steel against your Christian brothers! Boleslaw, can you not see this serves the interest of his Holiness? Do you not fear the repercussions of disobeying the church?"
"The Pope's interest should lay with Christendom, not meddle with politics. Or am I wrong?"

Konrad summoned his blade and raised it towards Boleslaw "Would you bury your entire nation under the sin of greed, child? Are you that worthless of an heir?"

"This castle is mine, just as the men who will slaughter you should that blade ever touch my flesh. I think you are forgetting your place, Teuton."

"Oh, no-" the knight withdrew his blade and allowed it to slide back into its den "You are forgetting yours. Your father's dynasty will be hacked to pieces because of your insolence. Men!" he spun to his comrades "We are leaving this wretched place. The Pollak dog is very eager to meet us in battle."

"Go back to your men, Teuton rat- rattle and chipper your lies, bed your wife, and lecture your children. The sinful dead are exempt of such privileges."

Konrad's eyes bore into Boleslaw's own , no doubt flaying the flesh of the noble in his mind's eye.
Outside the chamber, the frantic pacing of servants and squires shook the castle awake.


|Kiev, Summer of 1290|

Part two; Eupraxia

"So how is he like?"

Eupraxia groaned, further slumping against the chair.

The room they occupied was large and well decorated, with various tapestries, paintings and rugs. Several torches kept the chamber well lit and pleasant- yet the look upon her brother's face was a complete contrast of her own: that of cautiousness.

Vesovold has been skeptic of their father's plan all along, and he often took to citing the instability that has grasped the Polish crown, as well as the reputation of the Piasts.

While the Western lords often tried to adopt a pious and joyful demeanor, the Piasts were all grim-faced, pragmatic warriors.

"Different. Most other princess father conspired to wed me off to were often very much alike."

Vesovold balanced the cup in his hand and swirled the liquid within thoughtfully.

"And yet you think of him day and night? Come, sister- surely you have more to say than what you're letting."

"Why? Are you thinking about wedding him as well?"

The heir shook his hand dismissively and turned away from his sister to pace about the room.

Eupraxia returned to brushing her hair, occasionally flicking a gaze at the man.

"Do not think your mistrust has gone unnoticed, dear brother- I am very much grateful a noble of your statue has my well-being in mind."

"Because, sister- The future of our state is at hand, and it shall be decided by whom father uses you to lure into an alliance. Or did that not cross your mind?"

Eupraxia assumed a mock pout of sorts, craning her head sideways "No, that never crossed my mind. But that's what expected of me. To sit by and let the big, strong men take care of my people and nation," she pushed to an abrupt stand and shook a finger at Vesovold. The prince looked mildly amused, even as her pout turned into a mask of fury, "Father may send me off to whomever he wishes, but not even him, nor you, can expect me to accept it meekly. Do you hear me, Ves?"

The prince slowly paced across the room towards his sibling, palms clasped behind his back as he studied her.
His sister was the envy of many- a powerful political tool, groomed from childbirth to serve the Kievan crown. He admired her physique and complexion. Oh, how closely did she resemble his beloved?

And oh, how great it felt when his palm found her cheek and struck her down.


|Krakow, Summer of 1290|

Part three; Battle of the Eagles



Eagles and oxen, cups and blades, hogs and snowstorm- all merrily flapping in the wind, savoring the pleasant morning sun that greeted the besieger's advance.

The Empire's columns were composed of many free men and mercenaries, yet also the distinct company of Teutons or knights from the Holy land, supposedly taking arms once more under the sway of Emperor Louis IV.

Their advance was swift. From Prague, unannounced and unchallenged, the invasion silently smothered the fringes of the Polish kingdom, greasing palms and slitting throats, all to finally stand before the great city and capital of the Eagle crown- Krakow.

Wladyslaw's armored frame scoured the troops from atop the walls.

As per previous encounters and role-of-thumb, the generals of the Empire relied on heavy infantry and spearmen, supported by at least two companies of arches, while the general was preferably mounted.

And today was no different.

"There," his finger pointed to the back of the German lines, finding a company of light horsemen- it's captain equipped heavily, his veiled visage flicking left and right as he shouted orders.

"…Soldiers! hoist those banners! First company, take point- tenth and eleventh, follow from the rear…!"

Krakow's own garrison was largely composed of a handful of heavy cavalry- his own retinue and the nobles whom were present when the city was encircled- roughly four hundred spearmen, two companies of crossbowmen and two companies of crossbow cavalry, whom just returned from reporting on Boleslaw's advancement.

To his left and right were numerous captains and commanders, all low of birth bar the heavily armed nobles that mostly stuck to the typical suit of armor worn by their Western brethren.

Lacking a proper parchment, the king found himself assembling stones and rocks of different shapes and form to draw the battle plan. He had just sent away a servant to fetch him a different banner before the battle truly began, and then turned to the men present;

"Their men are positioned from here, to here- with at least one company of heavy infantry escorting the siege tower. I trust them to dedicate their archers to harass our own militia before their knight company reaches the battlement."
Wladyslaw looked at his companions, all returning his gaze with silence. They looked hopeless, pathetic even, some of the captains rushing back and forth of the makeshift war council to berate a whimpering soldier or to force a would-be deserter into his unit.

Wladyslaw composed himself and endured the interruptions, until all seemed calm enough to continue.

"What they expect is for us to defend the city from within and rely on our walls. But this robs us of our advantage and plays to their strength- which is why our mounted company will sally out from the rear gates and come to meet them on our own terms."

"This is madness…"

"Can we not simply surrender the city?!"

A rush of uneased mumbling and hushed words set the council abuzz, but the Polish king silenced the men with a curt, venomous cuss.

"If you do not wish to fight for me, then so be it- but leave your blades behind, as I have no intention of arming the dogs without. But I will fight. This battle did not begin with this siege, no-" Wladyslaw's eyes grew wild and large, and he seemed more and more frantic, his fist clenched into a ball "This began years ago. And it only now comes to a halt."
Several knights pushed to a stand and drew their blades, joining their king with words of triumph and vengeance, while the majority remained seated, still refusing to believe their fate.

A low drum erupted from outside the walls, and the familiar tune of marching soldiers and the shifting gear of war machines cut through the stalemate.

The empire was mobilizing.

Eyes innumerable were now set on Wladyslaw, who could only look back at the men who remained by his side- volunteer citizens, make-shift militia and a handful of knights. Men of war, and women of service- just how many would die to protect his dynasty? Just how much of their blood would spill for his to remain intact?

His blade pierced the air as he hoisted it as far as he could muster- the slender, sharp instrument looking like a pristine column of light descending from the slowly darkening sky.

"From here, to victory!"

An ear buzzing cry erupted from the crowd- from crying men to hunched crones, proud knights and enthusiastic youths- all uttered one word, one word above all:

"Victory!"

Those who owned a horse quickly followed his lead, while the respective captains of the different militia branches herded their men.

Above, the warmth giving sun wished to take no part in the battle, and slowly retreated behind a cover of thick rain clouds.

Men of the clergy uttered prayers as Wladyslaw's large company trod through the nearly empty city streets, as none bar mothers looking for their younglings or a way-ward messenger sent to relocate a group of soldiers were present.
They finally came to a halt before the gates, and the king turned back to survey his company- and they, in turn, appraised their lord anxiously, some men still uttering a prayer while the others surveying their arms and armor.
His horse carried him forward, and the column exited the city in near utter silence, bar the prayers and clinks of blades and axes.

Wladyslaw lead the men around the castle walls and through the fields, ordering the different companies in his now unified cavalry force into taking different positions and roles;

His own retinue and a company of knights would charge the rear and surprise the enemy infantry, while the light mounted crossbowmen would target the enemy commander.

"Hoist those damn banners men, and when time comes, blow the war horns and praise our Lord!"

He slowed the pace for a moment, installing a large war banner on the armor of his horse- that of a large, grey wolf- it's maw as crimson as it's eyes. His was joined by white ravens, red arrows, yellow moons and two dozen of other noble houses, big and small.

"M-my lord, isn't that…your son's-"

"Yes. My son's banner," he cut the man's words and ordered the column onwards "No father should admit to this, but the son far outmatches the father. Should the scum see an army under a different banner, and more so, one lead by the Iron wolf, they would leave their commander to rot."

They finally passed the walls and looked towards the assaulting army- a horde of black and yellow, white and red, flesh and blood. Their battering ram was already at the base of his gate, while a handful of men were scaling the walls.
The tide of horsemen divulged, and his men went left right and forward, their banners now hoisted high against the bleak sky, while the bloodied Iron wolf of Krakow reigned supreme among the assembly.


"Ceihed, to the right! Jon, take your company to the left, the rest with me!"

The polish crossbows clicked and clucked into action, finding the exposed rear of the Imperial infantry an easy target. Those that were not already alerted to their presence quickly spun to face their new enemy, but could not counter the mobile horsemen, who kept riding towards the fringe of their lines, picking on easier targets, from horsemen to squires and wards.

A surprise charge was obviously out of the question- but the Polish mobility allowed them to shatter a hastily formed line of spearmen and obliterate the German rear guard.

Confusion took hold of the German ranks- and their commander dedicated a large portion of his reserve, including his own company, to handle what they perceived to be Polish reinforcements.

Wladyslaw breathed heavily, yet he found himself hoisting his blade, summoning his men into formation.
"The Iron wolf has come for your blood, Germans! My sword is sharp and yearns for blood, my steed hungers for the flesh of men, and my loins prepared to comfort any grieving German wench!"

The Imperial infantry was quickly overwhelming the walls, and despite being resolute, the Polish militia was dwindling in an alarming rate. Still- in the battlefield proper, crossbow bolts still found flesh and steed and sowed destruction in the German ranks, whom had no way to battle the eastern cavalry.

A force of mounted soldiers made way from the enemy ranks and made a mad charge towards the Poles, led by their own general.

The trap was sprung. Wladyslaw's crossbowmen quickly drove to harry the enemy cavalry, while his heavy cavalry feinted a retreat, drawing the committed Germans further away from their force, while their heavy infantry tried to maintain a quick pace to protect their commander.

Wladyslaw halved his numbers, sending half to the right while he himself turned to face the bleeding invaders. A trail of corpses led from the German rear, and those steeds and knights that were not slain outright cried and moaned in pain on the sea of green, luscious flora.

"Sons of Poland!"

His knights boomed a reply and fastened their long, bleak lances- longer and deadlier than the enemy's, a true testament to the Polish dedication to horsemanship. His company of bloodied, white angels of death drove forward to meet the Germans, while the other half shadowed their king to counter the rest of the enemy cavalry.
The sickening sound of death and torn flesh rang in his ears. His lance impaled a young man from the abdomen, and he surrendered to an ancient impulse, discarding the lance and hoisting his blade.

"I-it's the Iron wolf!"

"What?! Here?!"



"Death!"

A force he did not know he possessed took over him, and he swung left and right wildly, claiming lives like a wicked, bladed plague. The light company soon joined the fray, and found the enemy's rear, only to leave the melee and reload their crossbows, repaying those Germans whom began to flee the onslaught.

To left, the company sent to counter the German tail was bloodied and beaten- yet completely decimated the knights in black and gold and were now making their way to severe the head of the snake.

The Polish flag was discarded from the walls of Krakow and sent tumbling down, only to be slowly replaced by the Imperial's own Eagle.

A sickening wave ran through his guts. He dismembered a man and ran the length of his blade through another's neck.
'Is the battle lost?'

Ceihed shook him awake, and Wladyslaw snapped to look at his surrounding;

A sea of corpses, a bloodied river- the bleak sky was only now beginning to turn truly dark.

"My lord, we have claimed their commander. What should we do now?"

Wladyslaw nearly threw up. His vision was blurry, his muscles strained, tired. He opened his mouth to speak, yet no words came out. Was this truly the end?

Ceihed shook him as before. He was as desperate as him- his eyes large, frantic, his lips moving yet no words reached Wladyslaw's ears.

He remembered Mieszlav, and Kowan. He saw the bloodied, wild Zbigniew, crying in pain as he clutched the stump of his arm. His own brother turning from the field and towards Krakow. The pain of betrayal and loss was always there, so why was it so dire now?

A row of crossbows sprung into action and claimed the life of several advancing knights. They gurgled, screamed, and finally became silent as they were trampled by their brethren.

"Men…Form under me…"

Wladyslaw croaked and the Polish cavalry once more set into motion, this time encircling the advancing knights and spearmen in a wide arc in what began in a slow maneuver and turned to a frantic charge at the now well-prepared German rear. Horse and men cried in pain, yet the thick line was struck a severe blow, as the infantry could not contain the heavy Polish knights.

He hacked at the survivors, whom tried to escape the massacre. Only those that hid under the corpse of a fallen comrade were spared- he had no time to claim their lives.



His forces were a shadow of their former selves. Wounded men whom stubbornly kept to their arms and the reigns of their horses, while many more lay dead on the fields beyond the city walls. But none of it mattered, now. If they made it through the battle, they could mourn, and pray, and swear vengeance. But now, all that mattered was to save the heart and soul of the Polish kingdom.

They trampled the Imperial infantry and trod to the city gates, where the largest concentration of German knights and spearmen tried to breach into the city, their advance held by a handful of dedicated militiamen, whom have long ago forsaken reason and the will to live.

A make shift line of soldiers was dispatched to halt his progress yet they, too, were quickly slain.
His bloodied blade pierced the bleak air and joined the bloodied wolf banner, commanding his men to reform just over the men they so recently put to death.

"Victory!"

Wladyslaw's voice rang true, an almighty cry of pain and desperation, silencing all those men that lay to his feet, killing any sense of doubt or sanity that left within his mind. He could only see the men who wronged him and robbed him of so much. No amount of blood or heads would ever fill the hole that pierced his chest. No amount of love or cruelty would ever sate the hunger of the bottomless pit within.





|Halych, Summer of 1290|

Part four; A dream

Tip, tap

It was raining.

Anna hummed gently, her frame against a wooden chair while she fixed a patch into a torn shirt.
'Leiv will never change. This is the third shirt he ruined just this week...' she exhaled and surveyed her work, and nearly subconsciously, her eyes flicked at the door.

'He should be back any moment now.'

Their hut wasn't lavish, but it was clearly set apart from the rest of their neighbors; a big, wooden structure, with a large fenced yard that sat on the fringes of the village. He would have it no other way- in fact, he insisted on remaining on a riding's distance from the castle- far enough to put it out of mind yet close enough to be able to fulfil his duties.

The door opened, and the sound of heavy boots hitting wood drew her attention.

Mieszlav eased the mud-caked footwear and ran a palm along his golden hair.

It was a long, messy mane of light gold, that gave the Polish heir the look of a celestial messenger.
Much like all the Piasts, his frame was long, yet all four limbs were well hardened by sword craft- and in his case, ploughing the field.

Their bodies collided. He smelled of earth and the field, of sweat and rain.
Anna leaned her head against his chest, her fingers digging into his back.
She felt a kiss on the top of her head, and then another, and another.

"You were gone for so long…"

Their shadows conjoined against the candle light, and Mieszlav ran his palm along her back.

"How much is too long, Anna?"

She looked at him.

His soaked frame stuck to her own, stained by the pouring red that began to flow from unseen wounds.
He was growing pale, yet his beautiful green eyes stared into her own irises, and he kept her locked between his powerful arms.

"I have been gone for more than a day."

"N-"

The color in his eyes faded, and she could feel the same sticky, crimson residue pour between his perked lips as he planted another kiss on her head.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity- her, embraced into against his chest, and him, tall and imposing, leaving a bloodied mark whenever his lips found her head.

One by one, the candles within the cabinet snuff out, and finally, so did the candle of her life.

[Turkafinwë]

This is a great update from the confrontation with the arrogant Teutons to the horrifying dream of Anna! Great detail was giving to the battle of Krakow and I must say well done! We all take a break from time to time, the important thing is to always return. Keep up the good work.

[Swaeft]

I've finally gotten some free time to myself and one of the first things I did was come back to this sub-forum. This was a long update, and I rather enjoyed it!

I liked the tension between the Hochmeister and Boleslaw, you portrayed that part rather nicely. I've only recently found out the Poles and the Teutons had a rather serious conflict (thank you, Medieval 2 historical battles) so this was a pleasant surprise for me. The descriptions of battle are vivid and realistic, and I can almost see myself at the battle, imagining the whole thing in my mind. Your phrasing and descriptions in general have also reached a new standard, and the chapter as a whole feels more fluid and easy to read.

"Wladyslaw's voice rang true, an almighty cry of pain and desperation, silencing all those men that lay to his feet, killing any sense of doubt or sanity that left within his mind. He could only see the men who wronged him and robbed him of so much. No amount of blood or heads would ever fill the hole that pierced his chest. No amount of love or cruelty would ever sate the hunger of the bottomless pit within."

Two excellent sentences, in my opinion, and a great improvement from previous installments.

The pictures are great too, but maybe just a tad too over-edited. For one thing, the sky looks rather weird with that purplish hue (if this is the product of the game engine or some other factor beyond your control, I deeply apologize), and the contrast and saturation seem a bit too much. I myself have done that plenty of times, it looks really pretty visually appealing but you tend to need to have a certain limit to how much you edit these things.

That's not to say this update wasn't great, it was, and I am really looking forward to more. +rep!

[Alwyn]

An exciting chapter, you powerfully convey the impact of the battle on Wladyslaw. The dream is a dark, chilling ending!