[SS 6.4] The Scepter of the See. (Papal States AAR)

[Seven of Spades]

Chapter 1. Merchant’s Eyes.

A hundred years of conflict between the parties of the Church and the Empire, those who were to be called as Guelphs and Ghibellines, and fought all over northern and central Italy, gave the most Serene Republic enough time to prosper, to make and sail their ships, to buy, sell and produce, to earn hundreds of thousands of guilders, and to become a power that was even able to plunder Constantinople alongside the crusaders. However when the Empire returns to Italy and subjugated Bologna under their rule, a Cardinal and envoy from the Papal States was murdered in Pisa and the Pope excommunicates the city, and Milan cries for the help needed to prevent the second to do the same as the first Frederick, the balance is upset and the climate for normal business seems ominously stormy. That is when the Council demands for some kind of actions, and the Doge acts accordingly as always, and with the Papacy seeking for moneylenders throughout Italy, all that could result not only in a restoration of the balance for doing business, but in a magnificent opportunity of its own, a profitable war.

Summer of the Year of Our Lord 1221.

Large steps took the man and his retinue inside the palace and not to the basilica, as the Holy Seer was not only a power of the Divine as the successor of Saint Pedro, but just like the Doge in Venice or the Emperor beyond the Alps, a temporary power as well. It was not the first time that the merchant visited the eternal city, but it was the first time that he arrived to it for matters that were not his own, and specially now that he was one of the great counselors of the most Serene Republic of Venice, and his name alongside others of great honor was written in the golden book. The Republic and its Doge called upon his service and he responded wholeheartedly.

The Venetian stepped upon the rich rooms of the Lateran Palace, giving himself the time to see with sharp merchant’s eyes, upon everything he laid his eyes into. That city hall was clearly richer than the council chambers in Venice, and the Cathedral in the eternal city could easily compete with the Basilica of Saint Mark, however his eyes would not fail to discern the flaws that lied behind the seeming splendor. Those were the reason why he succeeded as a merchant, and why he was now a member of the council and an ambassador under the directive of Pietro Ziani, Doge of the most Serene Republic of Venice.

The palace was flawless in his eyes, that was a certain, but for example the marble columns and walls in the Basilica of Saint Pedro were already shown small cracks, and their golden fineries were already losing its luster. Even the half dozen florins spend on incense and burned in the basilica that afternoon could not completely cover the smell of decay, and in the outside everything was just worse, the scars of centuries of past wars were yet seen bleeding and the prospect of future wars made much of the people leave the city searching for better opportunities. The city garrison seemed reduced and unable to man the walls against the likes of the other powers on Italy, markets seemed slow and poor, as well other business as blacksmithing, pottery, winery, and so many others; the only occupation that seemed to truly thrive was the prostitution.

Once inside the palace the ambassador would be leaded, alone and not to the Pope, but to someone dressed with the crimson of the Cardinals. The merchant would be then announced as Guido Basilio, Ambassador of the most Serene Republic of Venice and member of the Great Council of the City-State. He was not expecting that, the absence of his holiness.

“I am Paschalis Arlocti, Cardinal of the Catholic Church, we were expecting you,” the cardinal stood from its seat and greet him from distance with open arms, “in the name of the Holy See, I welcome you to the city of Rome, and I offer in his name too the hospitality of the Vatican.”
“And I thank you for your welcome and for the hospitality of the Pope,” answered the merchant in kind, watching as always but a little bit nervous, even if that room had only two people, “but if you not consider me so blunt I may ask, where is my host and our lord?”
“Worry not Ambassador, as the absence of the Pope in this room if not a sign of mistrust or contempt for your noble City-State and its allies, is just the sign that his holiness is not in the City of Rome or in his vicinity, and then again worry not, as the Vicarius Urbis in his absence I can conduct the negotiations myself”.

The Cardinal waved his right hand to signal an armchair, and then he returned to his. Guido Basilio sat where he was told, without helping but to ask himself, “where was the Pope?” For once and without answers he closed his eyes, while the Cardinal was staring him without flinching.

[Seven of Spades]

Welcome everyone to this, to The Scepter of the See After Action Report. One made of my campaign with my favorite faction, the Papal States, as I always like to play with them for some reason that strangely does not revolve around excommunicating my enemies and then insta-crusade them (not that the game let me anyway as the Pope usually rejects all my requests). I had tried to make this as entertaining as I could, but for one part I am not as good as the other more veteran AAR writers, and for the other English is not my natural language, so I fully expect that in some moment I will be took by some Grammar Totenkopfverbände, and sent afterwards to the camps to never be seen again. I write this is as much a pastime as it is an exercise to practice this language, so any advice will be well received.

I will play with Stainless Steel 6.4, on very hard difficulty for both strategic and battle AI, and with the mods of Savage AI, Byg’s Grim Reality IV, Longer Assimilation and Real Recruitment turned on for all purposes. As a House Rule my behavior will be determined by the personality that can be collected from the traits and ancillaries of my Popes, so for example if I have a Pope who is really unorthodox, I will be more open to make deals with Islamic factions. My first Pope in the year 1220 is Honorius the Third, and “he” has the epithet “The Warmonger”, so you could make yourself an idea.

Please bear with me for awhile and be free to criticize me, as I said before any advice will be well received.

List of Chapters.
Pope Honorius III. (1216-1253)
1. Merchant’s Eyes.
2. Fear of God.
3. Double-entry Bookkeeping.
4. Merely a Shadow of the Father.
5. Two and Half Battles for Bern.
6. Life is Bigger than this Board.
7. The Fifth Crusade: Very Old Men Go to War.
8. Flame and Greed.
9. The Fifth Crusade: Walls of Jericho.
10. The Fifth Crusade: I have not come to bring Peace but a Sword.

[Alwyn]

Your story works well for me, I like the way that you describe the decaying city and the way that the ambassador is surprised by the absence of someone he expected to see. Your English is very good. I like the way that you use black and white images, so that the close-up view of the city resembles the image of the city on the campaign map - that's nicely done. I look forward to seeing how your story will will develop. (When you have 25 posts, you will be able to edit your posts.)

[Seven of Spades]

Your story works well for me, I like the way that you describe the decaying city and the way that the ambassador is surprised by the absence of someone he expected to see. Your English is very good. I like the way that you use black and white images, so that the close-up view of the city resembles the image of the city on the campaign map - that's nicely done. I look forward to seeing how your story will will develop. (When you have 25 posts, you will be able to edit your posts.)

I was already wondering why I could not edit. I thank you for that piece of advice and for your kind words

[Seven of Spades]

Chapter 2. Fear of God.

Winter of the Year of Our Lord 1222.

Bells tolled with the first light of the dawn, first, one of them and almost immediately each other in every church and bell tower in the city of Pisa. Finally the Papal Army advanced to the city, and the defenders rallied to the city gates and walls to wait for what would be a fierce battle. The Rectors said they were confident of victory; the stone walls of Pisa were thick and strong, the garrison was able to man the walls in proper numbers and the Captain of the Garrison Fillippo Visconti swore that morale was high. However the common were not so sure, the papal guard was out there in great numbers to be seen, and therefore it was knew by the militias and their families that the besieging army outnumbered the defenders.

Last year a Cardinal sent by the Holy See had tried to pressure the Rectors to do the Popes will, and when a February morning he was found stabbed in the back, it was clear that his attempt had not been very good for him. In those days the demand was to remain neutral regarding the imperial presence in Italy, now it was to subject itself to Rome, exactly what caused the city to join the Imperial party, but after Bologna the Prince did not had troops to spare, and the rest of the Emperor’s forces north of the Alps were too dispersed. Cagliari had its own problems too and they will not answer.

Just last night, in the last minute before the dawn the Pope spoke to his men, he was over his feet and with a warhorse at his side, not over his Sedia Gestatoria; his throne for carrying. Dressed in steel and not silk, and with a helmet replacing his miter. That was Honorius the Third, a warmonger indeed, and so he spoke to his men and captains around him.

“There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.” The Pope’s voice was a little sharp, probably from the cold of the season, as even that way sounded powerful to the men.“Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit. The poison of vipers is on their lips. Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness. Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and misery mark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know. There is no fear of God before their eyes.”

The words of the Pope were the words of God as he itself spoke by the mouth of his tools, the apostles. Those words were of Romans 3:10-18, spoken for once in the Italian of the common.

“There is no fear of God before their eyes,” he repeated with the first light of the sunrise over his head, drawing his sword and pointed it to the walls of Pisa, “go there and make them remember it! The fear of God!” The men cheered and shortly after the bells of Pisa joined them in unison.

The battering rams approached slowly as the papal guard pushed them to one of the city doors. Behind it there was another ram and additional forces waiting to break into the city. The Holy Father would only hit one of the sides of Pisa, but it would get to do it with a great force, just to the right two siege towers and four ladders were carried to the walls, and four more ladders were carried a little more away to serve as a diversion. Now over his horse the Pope was smiling, little by little the men who men the walls of Pisa, ran to the threat that spread its ladders on the other side. Or it was fear maybe? In position the siege towers and the other ladders, allowed the men to occupy the walls, who began a fierce struggle to advance towards the defenders.

On his horse however, on the other side of the city walls, another man smiled while gave his orders to his people, Filippo Visconti would not gave the city just like that, without a fight, he gave the order to open the doors to let the men meet the ram, and he personally oversee the fight, sending his most determined militias to the fray against the Papal Guard, who were after then unable to remove their siege machine and in consequence could not overwhelm the defenders for a long time while the hot oil fell on them.

The screams of the wounded would rise to heavens alongside the breath of those who would exhale their last, Pisano and Romans together alike in pain and suffering, fellow Christians killing each other in battle. In the end the force of numbers would decide the outcome of the battle, the defenders would be overwhelmed over the walls, and when the ones in the door were attacked from two sides, the rest of the battle would turn into a mass rout. The last sixteen would surrender by noon, and almost four hundred and eighty of the defenders would have left their bodies over the fields, including Filippo Visconti, or might not be useful again. The Vatican forces at the end would loss almost one hundred and ninety men, mainly at the gates, while of the wounded one hundred and fifty came to recover eventually to fight another day, some of them with horrible scars from the burns.

Pisa would recover that day the Fear of God and while although were not cheers for the victors, the city would be spared from the sacking, and the prisoners would be released shortly after being disarmed, at least those who were militias, while the Ghibelline nobles and patricians were ransomed back to their families before their exiles. A few days after securing control over the city, a force under the Holy Father would march north, diminished in three hundred men compared of those who left Rome but no small force and invigorated by victory.

Winter of the year of our Lord 1224

From above in a semicircle that finally impelled forward a lighting made of steel fell, immediately after it would burst a crimson cloud that in turn would fell over the white. The cavalier on his horse would quickly pass with his sword still drawn in his hand, and in that way a life would remain extinct over the snow. In that way Milan gave itself to the protection of the Papacy, through the force of arms, while those who were against were stomped on by the hooves of the warhorses and the boots of the Papal Guard.

The battle for Milan would be shorter than the battle for Pisa, and even considering the numerical superiority of the defenders, and the fact that Milan had thicker walls than Pisa, barely bloodiest. After the events in Pisa many Milanese nobles had feared to losing power, and therefore decided to blockade the entrance to the city at the papal forces, however the common feared more to the force leaded by the Emperor beyond the Alps than to one of the leaders who they asked for help, and then when Honorius attempted to force his entry, many militiamen simply dropped their weapons.

The city of Milan would have the same treatment as Pisa, it would be spared from the sacking and most prisoners would be liberated without a ransom but without weapons either. Since the battle the bulk of the Vatican forces would be stationed in the City, waiting for the opponents who could fell to the region of Lombardy from the Alps, and the Pope would begin his return trip to the Eternal City. From then on, all units would have the order to free the prisoners and occupy the cities and castles conquered without the ruin of plunder or extermination. If they were to fight Christians in the future they would do it as true. That were the will of god, and even the winning forces of the servant of God, had fear to their master. Sometimes however the God’s plan was uncertain and unexpected, and not everything goes according to the plan.

[Alwyn]

Your images and writing combine well to show the brutality and desperation of battle. Honorius the Third is an interesting character, I like your description of him. Good chapter!

[Seven of Spades]

I have yet to reconcile Honorius with one of his most difficult and interesting features, which in any event will still not occur in chapter 3.

[Seven of Spades]

3. Double-entry Bookkeeping.

Summer of the year of our Lord 1224

Of the one thousand and thirty two men who marched alongside Honorius the third in his campaigns, three hundred and eighty eight would meet their ends, of the survivors most of them would remain in Milan, warding the Lombardy from the menace that lurked beyond the Alps, although two full units of Papal Guard would return alongside his Holy Father to Pisa and then stay there reinforcing the garrison and proving true the Roman dominion over the city, while he marched south.

Compared to the one thousand and thirty two men that marched outside Rome with all their might and their banners, the company of thirty knights who crossed the gates of the Eternal City seemed too small, however, little as an army as they were, they did not look ragged or defeated, and being greeted with the cheers of the population, marching their mounts over flower petals, they would have an entry of winners. It was almost a triumph like the old days, but now everything was thanked to god, as the victories of the Papacy were no less than the God’s will.

Nevertheless glorious as it were it was accompanied by an unnerving restlessness; the nearby port of Civitavecchia was blockaded by the moors, and the people feared the repetition of the sacking of the year 846 by the Saracens. The nature of the crowd was to change, and even if in one day they cheered you, by the next they could be crying to put a noose around your neck. Now a proven commander, Honorius necessarily would have to deal with any threat what could disembark from North Africa. Orders would be dispatched in due time to Pisa for its navy to descend south when its time was right.

Later in the afternoon a man in the cardinal’s scarlet, would revere the man who returned to dress in white cloth after so many time on steel.

“His Holiness,” he started with his head down, “I humbly congratulate you for your victories in the north.”
“Arise my friend,” the Pope would answer, “it was my sword that took Pisa and Milan for the states, yes, but it was your work that will allow us to benefit of our advantage, and pay the debts of my adventure.”

Even with the mutual words of congratulate the Pope was still the Pope, and the Cardinal was still his servant, it was time that Paschalis Arlocti gave account of his acts to his master, and at least this time he would do it faithfully.

“I personally received the Venetian delegation and sent agents to Naples, Genoa and Bologna with your words and desires,” he said, “and the lenders and governments in all of those were mostly in line with our requests.”

That basically meant that the Papal States were currently in alliance with the republics of Genoa and Venice, as the same way with the Kingdom of Sicily, the later which explained why they did not invaded Rome after leaving the city with so a small garrison. The alliance between the Papacy and the republics north of Italy would give birth to a new Lombard League, while the alliance with the island kingdom would secure the southern frontier, and maybe provide a buffer between the Papal States and the infidels in North Africa, exactly what was required now. The treaties would also increase trade in the cities under the protection of the Holy See, increasing wealth in the long run, but there was perhaps an even more important issue in the short.

“How much?”
“We obtained 12.000 silver marks from the Sicilians, 10.000 from the Genoese, 4.000 from the merchants in Bologna, and 12.500 from the Venetians, and also the Jewish community in the city realized our need and offered 5.000 silver marks more” *
The cardinal smiled, the Pope seemed satisfied enough.
“Apparently they feared that his holiness strengthens the measures established against them by your illustrious predecessor, God rest his grace.”
“It was enough?”
“No your grace, everything what entered to our coffers slipped from us like water between our fingers, we are still indebted by about 8.000 silver marks, but thanks to the expansion of the states we expect to be solvent again in less than six months, one year in the worst of cases.”
“Magnificent, then we will continue waiting, we still need to build up our forces again as we now are too thin, even if we have to deal with the moors now.”
“Your will be done, your holiness.”

Winter of the year of our Lord 1233

Inside the castle that overlooked Ancona, a warmth fireplace lit a room that otherwise would be shrouded in the gloom of the night, a man dressed in fine silks and golden threads was sitting in a heavy chair, with a rug over his legs. He was Pietro Ziani, the Doge of the most Serene Republic of Venice, and therefore the ruler of the city of the canals and all the other towns and castles to which they extended their dominion. Sat in a simpler yet still very rich chair, was the companion of the Doge, dressed in the red of the Cardinals, Paschalis Arlocti, in the role of messenger of the Pope, invested with his voice and with knowledge of his interest and desires.

In those days armies of the Venetians blockaded the Veneto and the northern Italy from the forces of the Holy Roman Empire, occupying the passes to the Alps, and the bridges that connected the region with the Emilia Romagna and Bologna, and thus removing the imperial enclave on Italy of a safe route to and from the rest of the empire. On the other hand it was guarded by the imperial prince Heinrich von Hohenstaufen in person, the Tuscan border, in turn preventing the Papacy to reinforce Milan by land or to come in aid of the Venetians. Even almost ten years ago when the Pope returned to the Vatican, he had to take the sea route through the port of Genoa. That and no other was the very weak balance that prevented Italy from being engulf in the flames of war, and anything that could upset that balance, would finally unleash a war in the near future.

“And that is exactly of why I am here for,” would answer the diplomat when asked by the Doge.
“Especially now that you are no longer threatened by the Saracens”

The delegate of the Papacy would open his eyes surprised by the Doge’s comment, but eventually he would only smile as he acknowledge the fact. Grey hair filled the head of the statesman and the lines of the wrinkles made furrows over his face, but the eyes of the Doge were still bright, and a mind full of memories and knowledge was still very active.

“Exactly,” the cardinal would say then.

The blockade of the Moors would probe to be as short as it was fruitless, and after the infidels went at war against the kingdoms of Portugal, Aragon, and Sicily, the papacy could quickly force a costly peace for them, given the risk of a crusade and the invigoration of the spirit of the Reconquista. Fifty-six thousand eight hundred silver marks bolstered the Papal coffers to be ready for the next movement. God’s will was sometimes uncertain, but it was in the men to recognize the signs and concretize.

“As you may know the papal forces cannot reinforce yours directly from our territories in the Tuscany,” stated Paschalis Arlocti, “but my mission is to arrange that we can do from this very place”
“Military access?”
“It could be an option, but not not the one the Holy See look for”

One month later the Venetian garrison of the city of Ancona and its castle, would march in full numbers to the north, leaving the place to the papal forces that would replace them. While the banners of golden winged lion over a field of gules were furled, the coats of arms of the Papal States arose. By then the scribes had already scored the 150.000 silver marks of the purchase. Broken the balance by the new way that could reach Bologna from Rome, and filled now the Venetian coffers and exempted to defend Ancona, it would be up to them to start the war over Italy. it would initiate in the year of our lord 1235, and by then the States would be one of the most dominant forces in the Peninsula.

*. The money figures were multiplied by 10 for story reasons. Take of account that apparently the sack of Constantinople 20 years before was worth more than half a million silver marks.

[Seven of Spades]

Chapter 4. Merely a Shadow of the Father.

Summer of the Year of Our Lord 1236.

When Ancona was peacefully occupied by the Papal Forces, the Prince knew that the balance was broken and that war was inevitable, and indeed Emilia-Romagna was invaded from the Veneto in 1235, and Bologna was besieged shortly after that same year by the forces loyal to the Venetian Doge; militias and mercenaries, alongside merchants putting on airs and playing knights mostly, however they would go in wave after wave, until they overwhelm the walls of Bologna with their sheer numbers. The Venetians had the money to do that, money that in a large part came from the papal coffers, every day new mercenaries that came to Venice as a flock offered their services to the Doge.

The light of the sunset enveloped the warrior over one of the battlements of the highest tower of the castle; a book was closed on his hand, although the fact of having already completely read it a few times took away the interest that he could have from it. Instead he watched to the south, lost in his thoughts, looking but not observing to the lands that in the horizon already were of the Tuscany. He was the Imperial Prince Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, son of Frederick, and so not only an heir of an empire but of many of the features of his father. Both were chivalric, cultured and knowledgeable men of war, just as both were sponsors of the arts. Certainly a child of his father.

A rider would enter the castle carrying important news with him; soon one of the lieutenants of the prince would arrive at his presence, right on top of that tower. The Emilia-Romagna was already surrounded by enemies and insolated from reinforcements from the castles north of the Alps, even if his father could commit those reinforcements, as the Holy Empire was not only at war with the Serene Republic of Venice, but with the kingdoms of Poland and Denmark as well. The Prince only could hope for the best, but the news would be grim. The spotters announced the march of Papal forces from the Marche to the Emilia-Romagna, the Prince only saw one way to avoid being surrounded by multiple forces, and therefore crushed. With the nightfall the absence of the sun would invite the darkness to stalk the Prince.

“We’ll abandon this castle and march south,” and so they did.

In the next days the banners and might of the Germans, would abandon the castle leaving only a skeleton garrison, crossing the frontier to the Tuscany, with the hope to reach the sea, or maybe Naples. They marched wishing for the best even if it was too late; Pisa was already going to their meet.



Winter of the Year of Our Lord 1237.

Once the Doge forces were repelled once from the walls of Bologna, and the Venetians had to go back to Veneto, the formerly confinement garrison of the city, could receive the news from across the Emilia-Romagna. The joy from the precedent battle would soon to be eclipsed by a new wave of enemies, with all their might and banners, and in large numbers. The Pope itself besieged the city of Bologna alongside forces from Ancona and Rome who would arrive later, and cavalry from Milan who encamped by another side of the city in the hope to reinforce. While this happened in the Emilia-Romagna, in the Tuscany, forces from Pisa blockaded the advance of the German prince, forcing him to pass through the entrenched army under the command of the Podestà Eugenius de Calce.

Wary of the Papal Guard the Prince Heinrich would retreat north instead with his four hundred and thirty six soldiers, three companies of spearman infantry and three of crossbowmen, mostly all of them militias. However pursued by the Papal Forces they would eventually have to fight back against the fourth hundred and twelve of them. The men under the Podestà would finally position atop a hill, while the Prince would position his under the hillside, and in consequence of the above any attack who would conjure the empire would be difficult.

Cautious about the military skill that supposedly the German Prince had, the lord of Pisa would not advance to meet his enemy on the field, but encouraged by his captains he would advance his crossbowmen to initiate hostilities. Outside the range of the imperial crossbows, the Papal ones would shot with impunity. Volley, after volley, after volley of bolts, would pierce the leather and the cloth, and the skin, flesh and bone beneath those. Instead of ascending the hill imperial forces would be there standing still and awaiting to be slaughtered.

Perhaps they feared the Papal Guard behind the crossbows? Or maybe they feared to fight from the low? What was in the heart of a prince who did not given orders to advance or retreat? The questions that Eugenius de Calce would silently made to himself that afternoon, would not come to be answered by evening, would not be answered in the next few days, would not be answered that year or never, and in front of his eyes the bolts keep falling over Christians, over people.

“Beati pacifici quoniam filii Dei vocabuntur”
“My Lord?” asked one of the lieutenants of the Podestà when he heard him whisper.
“Matthew 5:9,” Eugenius answered, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”
“Do you want to let the enemy to escape?”

The commander would not answer immediately; the desire to do so was inside him as it was the doubt inside of his companion. Finally it would only be heard the sigh he exhaled, along with the distant cries of the carnage.

“What I want matters not as we carry the will of his holiness,” Eugenius finally said, “but this will end now, order the cavalry to charge.”

Then they descended galloping from the hill, the knights with their lances and their swords ready, crashing against what was on the left of the German line. The bodies pierced by the arrows would be trampled by the horse hooves. Only by then the German Prince would decide to attack up the hill, when it was too late to save the day. The clash between the armies would be violent, but short and fruitless, who marched up the hill left too many under it, and by then the four hundred men had became less than one. Outnumbered and outclassed by the Papal Guard, the German spears would meet an end with barely more sense than their countrymen, pierced by arrows, crushed by horses.

Only one tenth of the German forces would survive the battle and on them would fall the task of digging graves for their partners and enemies, together and equal now in death. One tenth of the Papal forces would die in the battle. Only when the corpses were properly underground and the holy offices were performed, the Imperial forces ragged by defeat and disarmed after the battle would be allowed to return to their castle. The only one who would not found among the living or dead would be the Prince. In the end of he battle when all became a race to escape the only one left mounted would be the only one to escape the heavy horses of the papacy. He would not go to the castle at the border, so it was expected that he went out to Bologna with his family and children, and there lead the defenders.

The only thing that would let the papal forces enter the besieged city would be the news of the defeat of Heinrich on the hills of the Emilia-Romagna, and the fact that until that day, no an imperial soldier had been able to cross the Alps and descend to the Veneto or Lombardy. The days in which was believed that the Emperor in person would come to their rescue in front of dozens of hundreds of knights and heavy armored troops ended long ago, however many still refused to accept reality and therefore the city would not surrender, at least until reality knocked on the door with a battering ram, and go up to the walls with ladders. It would happen in a very rainy afternoon.

After having repulsed the Venetians once the numbers of the Bolognese had fallen to the three hundred and seventy one men, clearly not enough to defend the walls against the seven and a half hundred under the command of the Pope Gregorius, and less when reinforcements from Pisa were to arrive after their previous battle, and together amount more than eleven hundred men.

In the midst of the rain the warrior priest on his horse would see the lighting with his eyes and would quickly and loudly say.

“The Lord will march out like a champion, like a warrior he will stir up his zeal; with a shout he will raise the battle cry and will triumph over his enemies.”

Shortly after the words of god in Isaiah 42:13 were recited, the thunder would cry and from then it only would be remained the triumph. The papal troops would advance to the city in cheers, while he who was on his horse smiled. The venetians or theirs would be the ones who take the city, but he would not leave it to them if he had something to say, something to do. So there was Gregorius the third, commanding soldiers from Rome and Ancona, and waiting for the Milanese horses what would come to their aid and the Papal Army from Pisa that could come next, all of them with supplies paid by Venetia and Poland, another idea of Paschalis Arlocti.

Overwhelmed by the number and quality of the army of the Vatican, the defenders would be defeated in a few hours, and when the delayed reinforcements finally came, the battle would turn into a rout, and one hundred of the remaining Bolognese defenders, would became in a hundred times a fugitive man. Most of them would finally surrender to save their lives, and the day would be of the Papacy, the wife and children of the Prince Heinrich would be taken as prisoners, but again he would not to be found between the living and the dead. Only days after it would be known, defeated and humiliated, but alone and therefore inconspicuous, Heinrich would gallop alone further north in the direction of the Holy Empire beyond the Alps, only for a Venetian arrow fired by an unknown archer pierced his neck.

Still confronted by his questions and the memories of the slaughter, one would say.

“He was merely a shadow of his father.”

[Merchant of Venice]

I'm really enjoying this so far. Great work, I love your writing, the inclusion of some passages from the Bible as well as the plot between the HRE and the Pope and the precarious politics of the region with Venice and the Papal States and Genoa all trying to get more. I wonder if this "Lombard League" will stay intact for much longer. The first chapter with the Merchant was a great way to hook the reader and the inglorious death of the Prince was a nice touch to the last chapter. I hope you continue this further and perhaps get more entrenched with the politics of the region as well as developing some of the characters a bit more.

[Deepstrike101]

Interesting AAR so far! I like the unique black and white screenshot approach. It gives an entirely different atmosphere to the AAR.

[Alwyn]

I like the imagery, for example in the phrase "While the banners of golden winged lion over a field of gules were furled, the coats of arms of the Papal States arose" and the memorable lines, such as the Pope's phrase about the "fear of God" and the quotation (about Prince Heinrich?) that "He was merely a shadow of his father". I agree with Merchant, I would like to know more about the politics of the region and the characters, and I agree with Deepstrike101 about the atmosphere which you create with the black and white screenshots (I particularly like the screenshots of the soldiers entering the city, and the variety of images you use including images which are not from the game).

[Seven of Spades]

(…)

(…)

(…)

I thank you all of you for your kind comments, I appreciated them a lot.

Following your advice I will try to show more on politics on the future, until now truth to be said, it had not been particularly difficult because as I am right in the middle of the Genoese, Venetians and Sicilians, it is difficult for them to wage war between them, and then in general they had spread outside Italy.

I guess the problems will start when Sicilians and Venetians force out the Greeks from the Balkans and Greece, when the Genoese and Sicilians start to fight for Corsica and Sardinia, or when the Moors set foot on Italy, they have grow strong for a while.

[Seven of Spades]

Chapter 5. Two and Half Battles for Bern.

Year of Our Lord 1241.

Once every man pressed the tension mechanism, the rain would unleash as a storm over the heads of the soldiers in the central plaza. It was not a rain that wet, and yet many of those that were hit by that drizzle would be stained by it. The screams would be the sound of thunder that would follow the crossbow bolts, and those hit by the rain would remain over the ground, drenched with the red of their own blood over their imperial crests. That night they were outnumbered over the heights of Bern. Knowing at less the German defenders, of the defeat of their Prince Heinrich, his shame and his ignominiously death, they would wield their weapons with a hard grip and in turn hardening their hearts, and then they would launch a last attack to throw their lives in the wind.

No one in the Imperial Court in Stauffen Fortress would have thought until that day that the papal forces would make an attempt that far north, and now even the seat of the von Hohenstaufen was threatened with the Emperor himself inside, and yet they could still lose more, as the Holy See did not attacked alone and Venetian mercenaries swarmed not so far at the west, and Poles and Norwegians were also involved in war against the Holy Empire. The situation was grim for the Empire, and even more for their ruling dynasty. Those and not others would be the reasons for that he ordered to move troops from the border with France to Switzerland at a great risk. In less than a year Bern Castle would be again under siege, on that occasion however the recent conquerors would be the ones locked inside those walls stained with Germanic blood.



Year of Our Lord 1243.

The Duke of Ancona Coelestinus Bruni, would observe the situation from one of the towers, more than a thousand men of the empire with a siege tower, two battering rams and two ladders, against his five hundred and thirty-one men, eight companies plus his own, four of papal guard but like the others still diminished in few of its numbers by the previous battle. On that occasion he had built a similar number of machines to the enemy now, except that he had one ram less and two ladders more for his assault, and that he had taken his crossbowmen with the ladders on the side of the wall that was closest to the square, diverting almost half of the defensive force for a while and therefore allowing most of his own men to not suffer the flail of the oil. Apparently all imperial troops would come from front the entrance. By orders from the Pope itself the came to bring war to the imperial lands, and seventy-four he had lost taking Bern, how much he would miss them now he had to defend it?

Noticing the movements of the enemy the watchers would give the alarm, the battle would happen soon. Inmediatly after the bells stooped tolling their alarms, the Duke would say to his men as the snow slowly fell over them.

“We had not born here and these are not our lands. Our wives are not here, nor our children are growing up in this place,” spoke the duke. “We are not Germans nor belong to the Cantons of this land, althrought all that I will not surrender this castle, nor this lands, our weapons and most of all our lives, let them all know that!”

“I will not surrender this castle because if I do that, the demon they call emperor will again send his men to the land were we born, and you will not surrender this lands because if we do that those sausage-eating, beer-swilling, Imperial pudding-heads will come again from their miserable mountain shacks, to pillage our lands, rape our wifes and kill our children.

In opinion of Coelestinus Bruni, there was no need to use the word of god in the earthly matters of the war, as not all the noblemen under the vassalage of the Holy See were the same, in particular this had a military mind and education, he would not feel the guilt of the Podestà of Pisa for the slaughter to come, the Pope named him a Duke, and he would pay him with his arm in on the battlefield in return.

“These are the lands where they will crash and be chushed, prettencious pricks who call themselves Holy Romans,” the duke would take a break to spit, “Rome is only one! And holy are us who follow the lead of our Holy See! Get into your battle positions!”

It was knew the fact that the Emperor sometimes surrounded himself with Muslim warriors, it was not only because he was a cultured as he in fact was, but because they did not feel the presurre of an excomunnication, or felt any bit of respect or love for the Christian Pope, however on the other side of the wall, the Holy Roman Soldiers advanced no withoud doubts or second troughts, the muslim servants of the emperor were only a very little part of his force, and therefore the men who besieged Bern there all christians, and thus they felt the weight of an excommunication and respected the Pope. The emperor had ordered one of his generals and titular Duke of Bern, Dietrich Folz to retake his seat, but fearing god he remained behind with seven hundred men, more than one third of his forces, many of them knights and other heavy men at arms.

The onslaught would be violent, again the germans would have to resist the inclement weather that ocurred in that place in the form of crossbow bolts and flamming arrows, which in any case would be unable to burn the approaching tower or ram. Eventually the stairs will be lifted, the bridge of the tower would fell over the walls, and the ram would creak the wood of the door until it broke. Then it would be when they advance with all their might and their banners, soon the uproars who called for courage and the glory of the Pope or the Emperor, would be replaced by the screams of the convalescents, those struck by a spear or a sword, or worst as there was something that fell like rain, but instead of being cold recalled the hellfire, and instead of make men drench, it leaved horrible burns in them.

The hours would pass and in they hundreds of men armed with swords and spears would try to push hundreds of men who stood with their shields, in the small space which was the entrance to the castle. Swords would be nicked, spears would break in half and men would end fighting with sticks, shields would be battered and then torn into pieces, warriors would scream and die in suffering. In death the faces of those killed by war would remain like masks, disfigured in the way that they had their last breath. Horrible masks of death. In life the men would still fight despite their fatigue or their wounds, and their faces would be marked by the pressure; their hatred for the enemy, their desire to live and survival instinct. Masks in life barely less horrible than those of death, used by those with hopes of scaring it.

The terrifying shriek of the German captain would mark his death, although in his face would not be any mask. When the oil fell on him he would remain unrecognizable, the only mark of who he had been would be the gold necklace around his neck showing an imperial eagle now partially melted, broken such as the attackers, the rout would start shortly after. When the battle finally ended, the prisoners would search between the death the corpse of the captain Jobst, who eventually would rest under the stones of the castle’s chapel. The battered eagle would be sent to his widow, alongside defeated men who would be also sent back to their emperor. More than nine hundred and half between imperial and papal soldiers would die in the second battle for Bern, most of them under the castle gates, there would be stopped the imperial forces, at a cost. The snow that fell would cover most of the corpses with a white blanket.

Few days after the release of the prisoners, once every dead was properly buried, the rest of the imperial troops under the Duke of Bern would advance and laid siege to the castle again, a third battle for Bern was saw in the horizon.



Year of Our Lord 1244

The slow pace of the horses was a real problem for the widow,even if she knew that in a chariot it would be even more useless, altrought looking to the left she could say that his partner was not bothered by the slow pace. The German princess wanted to get as fast as possible to their destination, the burden she carried with her was too valuable to let the papacy had time to change his mind.

“Do you not have any hurry Cardinal?”, she would finally ask, and the man would look at her instead of the landscape.

“The truth is that I have never been out of Italy, and not just the sight of these mountains is new and beautiful to me but also its air is invigorating.”Paschalis Arlocti would devote a smile to the woman, a smile she would not correspond. “Your grace ask due to the matter in Bern?”

It was not a secret to them what was going to happen in that place, on that occasion only three hundred and seventy-seven men would have to resist the imperial onslaught, and after all that happened Dietrich Folz promised it would be a carnage for the Duke of Ancona and his men.

“Not really, not,” the would say shortly afterwards, “it is true that the Duke said was probably true, but that is a picture of only a small part of this world, your kingdom is at war not only against us but with the Republic of Venice and the Kingdoms of Denmark and Norway too.”

Poland had by then made peace with the empire.

“But you do not just limit with us, from one moment to another your neighbors could invade your lands”

“Yes my lady, but we are allied with all of them, and they do not wage war between them.”

“How is that possible?” She asked

“In short princess it is because we are allied with them, but on the other hand it is because in this twenty years, the States had joined with most of central Italian city-states, and now none our neighbors border on italy with anyone than us.” With Ancona in the hands of the papacy, Venice and Sicily no longer limited, in the same way nor Venice and Genoa limited each other, because the papacy also had to Milan and Bologna. “They simply have no reason to wage war between them and they are often too involved in other wars with their other neighboors, including your empire with Venice.”

It was exactly the opposite with Germany, eneryone wanted a piece of it.

The truth was in any case that the Papal Stated also kept all the time a respectable garrison in each of their cities, and although the betrayal of an ally was something that existed and could be done, those troops hindered the posibility. Likewise it could be said that very few wanted to risk the prospect of being excommunicated without a huge profit, and close ones to anothers as the cities on Italy were, to defend the Papal States was not particularly difficult for both army and navy. Friendly relations with the neighbors also completed the balance that was the Italian peace. That would not last forever, but in those days it was the biggest advantage of the Holy Father.

A castle could be seen on the horizon.

“That is Stauffen Fortress my lady?” The woman would nod.

The journey came to an end. No longer the prince's widow and their children would be hostages of the enemies of the empire.

In Bern Castle the day gave way to night, and again would dawn, Coelestinus Bruni again was watching from one of the towers. The enemy had completed their engines for the upcoming siege, and now the assault was imminent, they would come again with two rams and one siege tower, however on that occasion they would have four, not two ladders. They would face a fierce battle and probably lose it; of the six hundred and twenty-two men he bring with him from Milan, now remained no more than three hundred and eighty, and contrary to what happed in Italy, Bern was too far away from the rest of the States to hope for reinforcements, and Stauffen was to close for them to bolster their numbers. Now that the situation was grim he could answer his question himself, he missed a lot his seventy-four and also missed his one hundred and fifty-five. He missed them a lot.

“My Lord?” asked one of the captains of the Duke of Ancona, holding a message in his hand, “has arrived this from Staufen, you should read it immediately.”

Laughter would be heard as a mighty shout, it could be heard down the castle as a voice of hope, as in the German camp as if it were a joke. From the handwriting of Paschalis Arlocti himself could be read the terms of the ceasefire, they would have their lives, they would have Bern. The Imperial troops with all their banners would march northward shortly thereafter.

[Zeion]

That was a close one for Coelestinus, hm? So a ceasefire it is?
Very nice style, Seven of Spades. I really like the BW screenshots... it's a nice touch you don't see too often.

It is going to be interesting how you continue this, with all the wars going on. Perhaps a diplomatic map would be cool (monochrome )?

Anyway, keep up the good work. Great quality!

[Seven of Spades]

That was a close one for Coelestinus, hm? So a ceasefire it is?
Very nice style, Seven of Spades. I really like the BW screenshots... it's a nice touch you don't see too often.

It is going to be interesting how you continue this, with all the wars going on. Perhaps a diplomatic map would be cool (monochrome )?

Anyway, keep up the good work. Great quality!

Yup, a ceasefire alongside another diplomatic terms that I will mention in the first part of the upcoming chapter. Chapter six will be all about diplomacy and the preparations for the next conflict to come around the lands of my fourth ally, and also on how have evolved the states.

I was also planning to put the map with all the factions in the interlude after the death of Honorius III, I yet have to see how it looks in colors and in black and white, and Honorius still have to die for the Interlude to come. I’ll see what I can do.

[Alwyn]

The Pope's power to excommunicate his enemies seems to have a significant effect, for example in the decision of the Duke of Bern to remain behind. I look forward to seeing how the diplomacy develops and also the preparations for the conflict to come.

[Seven of Spades]

The Pope's power to excommunicate his enemies seems to have a significant effect, for example in the decision of the Duke of Bern to remain behind. I look forward to seeing how the diplomacy develops and also the preparations for the conflict to come.

They attacked in two waves because Jobst and Folz numbered more than one full stack together, like 2/3 for Jobst and ½ for Folz respectively, but the AI did not reformed their armies to a more powerful combination nor attacked together.

Excommunications in the game actually give other powers to a Papal States player, but I wanted to explain the AI behavior that way, the same way as before I treated the money from a mission as if it were a donation from the Jewish community. I think it is better for storytelling to say that than to say that they are idiots.

[Alwyn]

That makes sense, I agree that it is better to come up with an explanation for AI behaviour which fit with your story and sounds better than 'the AI made a bad choice.'

[Seven of Spades]

Chapter 6. Life is Bigger than this Board.

Year of Our Lord 1244.

The hand of the Cardinal moved no without hesitation at the time to move the bishop, but in turn the white piece would be put back over a black square of the checkered board. Was the King’s game the one who Paschalis Arlocti was playing at that time, and directly in front of him beyond the board was a true king; Frederick II from house von Hohenstaufen, lord of Stauffen Fortress and Emperor of all the Germanic kingdoms. After the movement of the Cardinal, there not would be spend more than half of a minute before his opponent made his own. A strong and resolute hand, without any hint of clumsiness, would move a pawn to the center of the checkerboard, occupying it more and more with that and other pieces of black making, and then again it would take time for the Cardinal to make his move.

The Imperial pageantry in the von Hohenstauffen’s fortress of Stauffen, was without a doubt unbeatable, the courtiers seemed extremely well educated, and in that place seemed to merge the germanic splendor with elements that came from Sicily, probably a sign that the Emperor had not forgotten his roots. In that great island where Christians and Moors converged, it was probably where that Prince of Christiendom got his heretical ways. The Cardinal would keep silent in that respect, Paschalis Arlocti knew that he was not really welcomed in the Imperial Court, he was the envoy of one of the worst enemies of the Emperor after all. Only his sign of good will, releasing the widow of the late Prince Heinrich alongside her children, had allowed him to get to the point where he had done, to be allowed to deal with the emperor himself of the issues for he had come so far from Italy.

Minutes later and already begun the game, the gaze of the emperor was able to tell the Cardinal that like his own, the emperor’s eyes sought to unravel who there were looking. The presence of Frederick the Second was imposing and his authority was even stronger, and thus it was not surprising that until that day even when in Italy he was so resisted and opposed, his own people did not rebel to his rule, making it a leader capable of facing all the conflagrations that in fact his dominion suffered, from the likes of too many Christian kingdoms.

“This will end soon Ambassador”, said the emperor, a capable player as well in the King’s game; the German saw five movements until the mate.

After the opening the board showed many more black than white pieces, and the initiative was the same way on that side of the board, as both players already knew.

“Same thing with Bern, we surpass your forces there and the result of the siege is only a matter of time,” would judge the ruler, then adding, “However I do not expect from someone like Honorius to give up his temporary gains, so I do not hope you to come with the request for a free return of your troops. I may be wrong?”

“No your Highness, you are not,” would reply the diplomat, “His Holiness is more of the opinion that Bern and the Cantons should remain under our care”

“Really?”

Frederick von Hohenstaufen was not really surprised by the answer of Cardinal Arlocti, the emperor would wave his both hands over the table, drawing attention to the pieces that were there.

“As in our game Ambassador we greatly surpass you in numbers not just in Bern but as our conflict as a whole, we even outnumber the armies of Italy combined, and if today we launched the majority of our forces against the Papal States, we could easily reach even Rome.” The hands of the German would then interlink with each other, resting his arms on the armchair, so that it concealed most of his expression. “The initiative now is also ours and our generals are more skillful than most of your own, so tell me Ambassador, why I should pledge to your demand?”

“Truth be told your majesty, wars are terribly expensive and risky, and contrary to this board, when a game piece is taken is not left aside but destroyed, Christian lives are destroyed and their families are broken, I will not deny your advantage, but a host like the one your highness speaks would take too much to muster, especially in a vast empire like yours, initiative would then return to us, and in between we could reinforce the narrow passes to Lombardy, your coffers might even be emptied before crossing the Alps, and the crossing itself will be bloody.”

The emperor would nod as a first answer, and the Cardinal would use the breath to make his move on the chessboard. Both men would observe each other trying to understood who had in front. In the understandament of Paschalis Arlocti, the Emperor dealed in facts more than in spiritual matters, but he could not say for certain what had already discovered the ruler about him. Frederick would make his move shortly after.

“And then I would conform myself with taking the cantons of Switzerland back, and fortify our positions before consider to advance, I still have no incentive to order the Duke of Bern to pull his forces back, and even I may grant you your ceasefire after the assault.”

“Look the board again your majesty, the King's game puts us in a wonderful situation, two forces of equal number and capacity, a fair confrontation in all sense of the word, but real war it is unfair, not like this board, and the Holy Roman Empire could have much more pieces than our Papal States, or than any of the Italian City-States, but life is also bigger than this board, and your empire cannot conmit all its pieces against us or any other, since you must also defend from your people from the Republic of Venice and the Kingdoms of Denmark and Norway. Even the Franks had declared war to you already seeking for Metz, many claim that you are the Antichrist, and they said that the same force that we have launched against heathens in the Holy Land should be thrown against the holy empire.”

Finally noticing the turn that had taken the game, Paschalis Arlocti would take the piece of the white king and in turn would put it yielded over the board. The chess game would end with a victory for the emperor, however it would come to be felt so ephemeral, as it was the victory of a battle when the war was already lost.

“It should not be however that your incentive to pursue peace, as even the Pope Honorius the Third is not convinced with such kind of war that would throw away so many Christian lives. As I said before, life if bigger than this board and it is bigger than our conflict too, his Holiness also offer his reconciliation to both you and all your empire, your Christian enemies will not count with our blessing, but first you must listen to what I say.”

The words of the Cardinal would probe the Emperor how really big was the chessboard, and how far the Warmonger’s eyes watched.

Year of Our Lord 1250.

Thirty years of recent conflict between the parties of the Church and the Empire, those who in the Tuscany were called as Guelphs and Ghibellines, and fought all over northern and central Italy, but also across the Alps, gave the Eternal City of Rome enough revenues to grow again as a Huge City, to build new markets, blacksmiths and armories, houses and even an university, and a new wall that would protect those who still lived outside from the protection of the Leonine wall or the older ones. To become a power that alongside the Venetians was even able to tear out the Germanic Empire from Italy. However ruled by a warmongering soul the peace would last short six years, and each of those years will be entirely used in the preparation of the next war, as indeed every realm of Christendom would do the same. That would be a war in which the Emperor and the Pope, alongside other Christian Princes would fight together against a common foe. That was the Fifth Crusade. The Holy Wars would interlink with each other, as if they were two mighty giants clashing against the other, the Christian kingdoms of Europe against the Muslim domains of North Africa and Asia.

Large steps took the man inside the basilica and not to the palace, as the Holy Seer was not only one of the most dominant forces on Italy, and a Lord equal to the Doge in Venice or even to the Emperor beyond the Alps, but a power of the Divine as the successor of Saint Pedro as well. It was not the first time that the priest visited the Vatican, he was born in Rome itself after all, but it was the first time that he arrived to it after making he promises of the seminar years ago and stay in the cloister all those years, now with the priesthood he was a direct servant of the Pope Honorius III, and his name was now alongside others of great honor. The Christendom embodied in his Holiness called upon his service and he responded wholeheartedly.

Outside those walls consecrated to God, the cheers of the Roman population could be heard in full, and within there was almost none. Rome threw itself into the streets and war with enthusiasm again, but Hadrianus could not help but feel sad in that regard, for one hand he did not liked war, which had brought him to become a man of the cloth instead of one with a sword at his side. On the other hand he knew that was the last time that the Holy Father would stay in Rome, a man in his last days what would probably die at sea or if it was the will of God
inside the walls of Jerusalem in the Holy Land, a type of trought that breed mixed feelings.

As one of only twenty-two years, Hadrianus de Veccio had born in the Rome that fed by the Italian City-States vassal to the Papal States, grew again to be comparable to the largest cities in Europe. In turn the enormous amounts of money donated by the Christian princes to the Papal coffers in exchange for the indulgence for their sins against the faithful; one hundred thousand silver marks from England, one hundred and twenty thousand and then one hundred and fifty thousand more from Norway, two hundred thousand from Venice along with a reaffirmation of the alliance, and two hundred and twenty-five thousand from the Emperor Frederick would not only fund the upcoming crusade but allow the cities of Pisa, Ancona and Bologna to grow as well into large cities, thereby increasing even more the renevues of the pontificate. Agents were in every corner of Europe, waiting for the opportunity to offer the forgiveness of god and thus fund his will.

What Hadrianus de Veccio would never forget hovewer, were the short words what his holiness would say to him the previous day, after ordering the priest to go to Lombardi and search for the heretics who were there. The old man had put both hands over the shoulders of the young.

“Do not rely solely on the length of your robe to disguise yourself,” he would say back then, “use a bandage around your breast and fill your suit more or better, get a little fatter.”

Words from the person Honorius was and not from the holy office he embodied.

“Your Holiness?” the priest would ask then, however failing to fully cover his nervousness.

“To make the God’s plan is harder for people like you or like me, beware of love for someone like us can love everyone, but cannot be loved in return by none.”

The woman would pray alone in the basilica of Saint Peter, promising herself to someday visit the grave of another in the Holy Land. Outside the basilica people happily cheered, inside a lone woman grieved the brief encounter and lose of someone who she considered akin.