Being a True and Accurate Account of the Present State of the Kingdom of England- my first AAR
Ok, this is going to be my first shot at an AAR... although technically it's not an AAR, since the action is still going on. So a During Action Report? DAR? Anyways, my strategic position is kind of cool: the situation in Western Europe has evolved into some kind of demented Hundred Years War, and I'll confine myself to this conflict and the events that lead up to it; a saga that involves two kingdoms and two proud and celebrated royal families. Before I begin, I'd like to point out that I'm playing Stainless Steel (the latest version, 1.41), as Hungary (although much of this will be centered on England for reasons that will become apparent), on hotseat mode (which is insanely fun; while I never actually "play" as a rival faction, every few dozen turns or so I'll switch over to them and check on the status of their empire, how their family is doing, etc. It adds a whole new layer of depth to the game, and gives you a sense that you're fighting real, honest to God factions with their own history and heritage, rather than just random AI blips. Also lets me blabber on about the AI factions as if they were my own). Profound apologies if it sucks so far, I started writing this at like midnight and I tried to give it the sort of plodding feel you find while reading medieval chronicles written by equally plodding monks. That's probably a bad idea, but whatever. Just send some assassins after me to shut me up if you think I deserve it.
Oh, and from viewing the boards, it looks like most AAR's are screenshot heavy. I don't have many screenshots (at least not that many prepped and pertinent to this particular tale) but I'll try throwing some in at the end to illustrate a few of the major events. It's only half way done so far, I'll write up and post the rest later if you guys are interested. And if any oldbie can think of anything else I should do to make things better, let me know.
The Following Has Been Commissioned by King Laszlo Silver-tongue, Dragon of Wessex, Hammer of the Scots, Scion of Houses Arpadhazi and Plantagenet, King of the Britons and Emperor of the Greater Romanian Empire, in order to combat the claims of the rebel knight, Duke Leonard of France, and to give a True and Accurate Account of the History and Present State of the Kingdoms of England, Wales, and France.
Set to pen Anno Domini 1352, by William of Suneberie,Loyal Servant to the King of England, long may he reign
IN THE BEGINNING- The House Arpadhazi and House Plantagenet
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By the year 1080, two noble powers had arisen in Christendom. On the banks of the mighty Danube, Laszlo Arpadhazi (known to history as Laszlo I and to the people of all realms as St Laszlo the Honorable) ascended to the throne of Hungary and founded the Royal House Arpadhazi. A world away, like the Romans before him, the Duke of Normandy, William Plantagenet, had landed in England and through right of decree and trial of arms made the throne of the Kingdom of England his, founding the royal House Plantagenet. Now it did happen that King Laszlo had a son, Kalman (known to history as Kalman the Fair and Kalman the Merciless) and King William had a daughter, Adela the Beautiful, and so did Kalman, Prince of Hungary, hear many wonderful tales of the charms of this fair maiden of England, and it entered his mind to see such a vision of beauty for himself. To that end, he requested his father send forth an envoy and arrange a meeting between the two proud young nobles, and so it was done. Whereupon the two fell deeply in love, and wed before God and King, joining the bloodlines of these two fledgling Houses and sealing a pact of brotherhood between the peoples of Dacia and the peoples of Britain, which God willing shall never fade nor fail. And from William, King of England, did come the Line of Britain, the throne passing from eldest son to eldest son, always true to the blood, unbroken through the centuries. And from his daughter, Queen Adela, and Prince Kalman, soon to be King, did come the Royal Line of Hungary- through all Kings of the East did flow the blood of Duke William and King Laszlo, and so it was decreed that all men of House Arpadhazi, save for the Line of Bela, King of Jerusalem, should be schooled in the English tongue and educated in the ways and history of the British Isles.
THE CENTURIES OF CONQUEST- The Voievodat
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For many centuries these two families stood together, each ruling their respective lands justly and well, and through trials of sword and honeyed words, did forge their people into the proudest men for a thousand miles, both unchallenged and unbeaten, though many sought to undo them. During this time, the Kings of Hungary saw fit to reach out their arms to others and explore the world, and in this manner did establish what came to be known as the Voievodat. These lands were outposts spread far and wide across Europe, loyal to the Kingdom of Hungary and granted to the Crown by other kingdoms- most often as part of a dowry (for the line of Arpadhazi was rich with both strong sons and beautiful daughters, and these daughters went on to sire the lines of more than half the Kingdoms of Europe) or a gift to turn away the might of the Hungarian hosts. Innsbruck, Syracuse, Genoa, Granada, Ibiza and Majorca, and the Grand Voievodat of the Baltic- many were they, and their august presence reminded all Christendom of the might of the Hungarians, no matter how distant they be. One such Voievodat was bequeathed to Hungary by the Plantagenets; Cardiff, on the banks of the Bristol Channel, and with it the lands of the Southern Welsh. From this mighty castle did news of the East reach Britain, and from thence to Sweden did news come to Budapest of Western Europe. Though none of the Royal Line had set foot on its shores, Wales was a dear child for House Arpadhazi, and was never far from their thoughts. And what news was there to tell! Of wars and conquests, against the Byzantines and Saracens, the Kievans and Turks, the fall of Paris to the English crown, of the stinking Scots and their cunning attempts to stir trouble in Ireland, news of the Italian Wars and the epic saga of Venice and Sicily, still a favorite of the bards and poets to this day- but these are all tales for another time. Suffice it to say, it was an epoch of war and brave deeds, but even braver were yet to come.
THE TRAGIC PRINCE- King Elias the Brave
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And so did the years pass, and the two noble Houses grew strong. But all was not well in England, for even as the French gave way to the superior arms of the English crown, the line of William was growing thin. War had taken its toll, and though married to a fertile daughter of House Arpadhazi, King Robert II (known to history as Robert the Terrible) was late in producing an heir. As such, in the event of his death, the regency was to pass to another; a man not of the Blood, a noble knight named Henry de Moray who had gained favor as a commander of King Robert's forces. But at long last, produce a son he did: the boy was named Elias, and he was much loved by the courts in England and France, where they named him le beau dauphin. Still, he was but a boy, and Robert's knights grew accustomed to Henry's claim, and in this time there was much debate over whether he would step down when Elias became a man, or whether Henry would be recognized as King upon the death of good King Robert.
Now much has been made of the events of those years, and much will be said outside of my telling- whispered in the taverns and alleys in the dead of night, no doubt. But let this chronicler speak plainly: there is no truth in the rumors that the King of Hungary, though he be known by the peasants as Joachim the Killer, had any hand in what transpired. To believe the stories, the Order of Nine (a fearsome and renowned brotherhood of knights, who can be found guarding many of the reaches of our empire) is nothing but a band of murderers and "assassins". This is patently absurd, and no doubt the work of the overactive Transylvanian imagination- finding vérfarkas behind every stone and the walking dead behind every tree. I shall not touch upon the claims that they operate the single largest shadow empire in the known world from a secret lair within Budapest, that they killed the last Byzantine Emperor and paved the way for Hungarian rule in Greece, that they were founded by Death himself, or even that they had anything to do with the recent illnesses which took four of our dear Popes, God rest their souls. They suppress crime wherever they are located, tis true, but this is all because of their reputation as the vanguards of the Hungarian crown; because vagabonds know that they will be cut down in the streets like men should they try and breach the King’s peace, not stabbed from the shadows in the dead of night. While good King Joachim certainly had an interest in keeping his kinsman on the throne, neither he nor the Order had anything to do with the fate of that poor knight, Henry de Moray.
For shortly after Elias Plantagenet's 18th birthday, the question of succession was resolved once and for all when Henry de Moray suffered a tragic and fatal hunting accident whilst riding in the forests of Nottingham. Though his grief for the noble knight was profound, Elias was soon recognized as Prince, and shortly thereafter, his aging father passed into God's hands, and he himself was crowned King of the English. His reign was to be one of the greatest, yet ultimately most bittersweet, of all the Kings of House Plantagenet- the coda of an era, and the hope for the next.
THE PEAKS OF GLORY- Elias and Miklos
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By the time King Elias rose to the throne, the House Plantagenet had extended its rule from the ancestral shores of England clear to the heart of France- the final king of Francs, Phillip the Fat, slain by the hand of Elias' father countless years before. However, there remained in the south and east French lords who did not recognize the claim of the King to the Throne of France, and indeed one Gaston Flambard, Duc de Clermont, had declared himself King of the Franks, and established what those disloyal rebels referred to as le petit cour du Clermont. While his claim rang hollow, in that he had no blood from Charles the Great, he had assembled a mighty host to back with his sword what his blood and words could not. Clermont controlled the lands from Angers to the Pyrenees, and (in name, at least) the Duchies of Metz and Bern, far to the east. It was against these men who pretended to speak for France that King Elias decided to turn. Many great battles were fought, both to secure the lands around Paris and Rheims, and to drive the errant knights of France back into Spain and the sea. It was during these wars that King Elias proved himself to be a mighty warrior, and all the glory of his ancestor, King William, was brought to bear. Victory after victory he won, forcing back Duc Gaston's men, though their numbers were vast and their ferocity unmatched- like cornered animals, for so they were.
And as this occurred, a new power arose in Hungary; Prince Miklos, known to history as King Miklos the Great. As a young man, wise Prince Miklos was enamored of the East and what lay beyond the pale of the known world, and he petitioned Pope Urban X to sanction a crusade against the Turks at Astrakhan. And this he did, and Miklos, like Bela the Conqueror, First King of Jerusalem, did take up arms for Christ and march across the Asians steppes, to lands which no Western power, not even the Romans or Greeks, had ever tamed before. And as he drove vast armies of Turks and hostile tribes before him, he received news of his cousin Elias, and was pleased. For England had become the greatest power in the West, and under Miklos' tutelage, Hungary would become the greatest power in the East, and though still not yet a king, clever Miklos was planning for a world where the empire he would forge would join side by side with the Kingdom of his maternal forefather. And this he confided in letters to young King Elias, and the two were pleased in each other's confidence.
THE LEPER KING- Caerell mac Donnachaic
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But Prince Miklos was not the only lord who watched Elias' progress with plans and cunning, for far in the North of Britain, there arose a fearsome man by the name of Caerell mac Donnachaic. The mac Donnachaic clan had long claimed ruled over the lands of Scotland; indeed, of all the Royal Houses (if "Royal" the savage mac Donnachaics could be), that of Scotland was the most isolated and pure. These dreaded Northmen kept to themselves, rarely moved beyond their farms and grazing lands, and stubbornly resisted all attempts at contact by outsiders. Many small wars had been fought between them and the House of Plantagenet, often over control of Northern Wales and Ireland, but always did the boundary stones return to the same, with Ireland pledging loyalty to clan mac Donnachaic, and Wales remaining true to the great Kingdom of England. Poor, savage, and unorganized- these were the ways in which the kingdoms of Scotland and Ireland were known to Christendom, if indeed Scotland was even known at all.
But King Caerell was a beast of a different sort; a lion amongst dogs, and a terrible figure to behold. It was said in his youth he could best a dozen men with his sword and fell a tree with naught but his hands. But the devil had marked him as one of his own, and as a young man, Caerell fell victim to the scourge of leprosy. Would that this would have killed him, what grief should have been averted! Alas, the devil's blood strengthened his body, and even his closest friends noticed no sign of the disease for many years.
And what friends he had! For unlike his fathers, Caerell was not content to sit idly by and watch his sheep grow fat. He rallied the armies of Scotland, united his kinsmen, and gave many great fiery speeches up and down the lengths of the land, inciting the peasants to war and the grim nobles to command. Whispers spread of this highland giant, and how the common folk, knowing no better, greeted him as a champion and flocked to his banner. And thus did the storm begin in Ireland.
THE STORM- Twilight of The First House
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King Caerell's men arrived on the shores of Ireland, but freshly freed from the yoke of oppression by the English crown, and the war began as any other. Blood was spilled, and in the end the Englishmen retired, beaten, across the sea to Wales, from there to lick their wounds. But Caerell, buoyed by his victory, would not rest. For at that time, brave King Elias was at the height of his war against the French. Many great battles had been fought, many heroic names had been forged, and the English stood on the cusp of final conquest, yet the wars had left the island drained and ill-protected. Caerell, cruel and merciless, seized on the opportunity and sounded the war drums, calling the full hosts of Scotland to march south and sweep the peaceful lands of Mercia and Wessex. And so he did, and the Scots were terrible to behold; their banners unfurled and their hair unkempt, and they drove all before them and committed many murders and raped all as they went. The English were at a loss as what to do, and though the garrisons held on bravely, they did not hold on for long. And in those terrible years did die the last of the true Plantagenets, leaving only King Elias to claim the blood of William the Conqueror. The Scots marched unchecked, capturing the royal seat at London (though James Plantagenet, last of the line of Henry, third son of William the Conqueror, did hold the gates till his arms could swing no longer), and even being so bold as to invade the poor Kingdom of Norway. And so it came to pass that those Englishmen still free from the Tyrant's grip were pushed to the city of Exeter, but even they could not hold on for long.
On the continent, the Duc de Clermont himself fell to King Elias' blade, not more than a week before the Scots broke out of the North. For Elias and his men, then, the glory of victory was short-lived, for while the French had been beaten, and the English crown was now unchecked on the Continent, at the very moment of their greatest triumph the English looked poised to lose their heartland. King Elias therefore made ready to relieve the island, but before he went there was the matter of succession to attend. For Elias' only son, Herbert, was still but an infant, and with the death of James, Earl of Wessex, heir presumptive, there was no man of the Plantagenet bloodline available to serve as regent in the event of Elias' death. To this end, he promised the regency to one Leonard Palgrave, most trusted and skillful of his knights, and adopted child by way of the line of William, second son of William the Conqueror, on the condition that at such a time as an heir of King William's blood was prepared to ascend to the throne, Lord Palgrave would step aside and allow the true heir to take the throne. And Leonard was well loved by all in France, and this was deemed a good plan. So Elias entrusted the safety of his infant son to Prince Leonard, and made ready to sail to Exeter, from thence to reclaim England.
In the East, meantimes, Prince Miklos Arpadhazi had assumed control of the growing Empire of Hungary in all but name, and while his father rested in the halls of Constantine, Miklos made ready to meet these new developments. For Hungary was no longer just a Kingdom, but an Empire- the Greater Romanian Empire, as it came to be known, stretching from Scandinavia to the lands of the false prophet Mohammed, and encompassing countless peoples, from the wild Norsemen to the sun-darkened Saracens, the proud Greeks, Venetians, and the many peoples of the Black Sea. But always was the blood of William strong in the veins of the House Arpadhazi, and always did they feel close to the English soil their fore-fathers had once tread, and to that end Miklos arranged for supplies to be funneled to Cardiff by way of Sweden, and the ancient Voievodat, so long accustomed to the fat days of peace, to gear itself for war. For while the Scots passed Cardiff by on their way south, but for how long would peace hold? And for how long should it hold, when his British kinsmen were suffering under the yoke of that cruel highland king?
THE FINAL STAND- King Elias and the End of An Age
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And so it came to pass that the Voivod of Wales, Lampert Babocsai, a knight of Hungarian and Welsh descent and fiercely loyal to the Empire, though not of royal descent, did arrange Cardiff for war, in anticipation of what was to come. But despite the wealth and materials pouring in to Cardiff's port, and the vast numbers of Welsh and English loyalists pouring across the border to bolster his garrison, Cardiff was as yet unable to march against the Scots by the time great King Elias arrived once more on English soil. And oh, that tragic Prince! For he crushed a mighty host and reclaimed Exeter, before moving by sea to Caernarvon, thence to recapture the garrison of North Wales and effect a reconquest of his home and birthright. But though Prince Leonard did promise to send the finest crop of French knights in the King's wake, the reinforcements were late in the coming, and Exeter fell once more. Indeed, the promised soldiers never came, but such was his resolve that King Elias pressed on and found footing in Wales. And so, sealed off on the tip of the island, King Elias, last of the Plantagenets, did rally his valiant knights and gear them for the battle they knew would surely come. In a letter sent by ship to Cardiff (for the land was not safe to travel, even for but a mile) he vowed not to retreat, but to stand his ground and hold the last patch of free soil on British grounds until God saw fit to deliver him or to call him home. And thus did it happen that a mighty host of Scots fell upon the valiant Englishmen at Caernarvon, and though outnumbered by score upon score, King Elias' courage did not falter, and he stood his ground. And when the gates of that fortress finally fell, he slew many a Scot, until the ground around him ran slick with hot red blood and all of his men had perished nobly and without shame. And when at last a cowardly blow from a cruel Scottish claymore did bring the mighty King to ground, it is said that his final scream of defiance so shook the Northmen that many loosed their bowels and fled, though naught but ghosts remained to chase them. And so, with the passing of that most valiant king, the line of William the Conqueror looked poised to pass into shadows. The blood and the soil, all seemed lost, and the lords in France and Hungary mourned the tragedy deeply.
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Originally Posted by numio
