When one is engaged in a gruelling but successful war against the Mongols, and has wittled them down into a position where a Crusade from mighty Jerusalem into their homeland around Antioch could break the back of the Golden Horde; when one has meticulously planned ones Great crusade to finally be rid of them; when one has established strong naval transport to bring in reinforcements from downshore and Cyprus...
When one has laid the most careful of plans, sure to result in a glorious and outstanding victory - what is the worst thing that could happen?
I'll tell you; rats.
Yes, rats.
Hairy little rats, hitching a ride to Europe. Hairy little rats poppin out of a pot 'a rice to pop a cap in yo' ass.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my war of final annihalition has been inexplicably thrown into jeopardy by the Black Death.
Not only is my economy quickly becoming incapable of producing the reinforcements of fresh troops that I need to cut down the Mongol hordes, but even when I can find the money, those troops are plagued. I have to use them, or I may loose - so I add to them to my army. Which plagues my army. Which fights the Mongol that brought the rats who live in the house that Jesus built!
It both infuriates and excites me at the same time.




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