[M2TW AAR] Sons of Alfonso (VH/VH)

**krazyfilmer123** · October 05, 2017, 04:59 PM

Sons of Alfonso

Spoiler for Table of Contents:

Preface

Heya. Wanted to start a new AAR and put the Polish one on hiatus because writing it (in objective view, at least) is too long. I also want to take this opportunity for first person subjective narration, where the chapters will be much shorter.

Sort of the same goals as the last AAR. Conquer the world including America, but also occupy settlements always unless the economy is running low (i.e king's purse less than 5000), to ensure Spain maintains her reputation. Seek alliances whenever it is possible. Now, let's begin.

edit: extra rule. Keep the bloodline pure, as real sons of Alfonso. No adopting under any circumstance.

edit (12/3/17): If you need any clarification for the slight use of Spanish in this AAR, here are some terms you'll need to know:
* Mi padre - My father
* Mi hermano (menor or mayor) - My (younger or older) brother
* Mi tio - My uncle

Chapter 1: Outside the Pyrenees

(Alfonso)

This town feels different. Everywhere, I hear some sort of variation of French and such. Smells like a farm, but i'd rather keep this opinion to myself. It's just not the same as being back home at Iberia, fighting off invaders from the south who smelled a lot worse, honestly. But then again, I keep my mouth closed tight for the sake of respect. I apply this attitude to anybody of whom I happen to take under my kingdom.

My son is different, however. Not a day has passed where my dear Rodrigo hasn't rambled on about the last knight he thrust his sword through, or sliced, or kicked his eyeballs out of or... whatever he does with people, and how it didn't keep him from widely smiling in delight. Needless to say, it's quite concerning, but his aptitude for military action is a jewel to keep. Need to get used to it...

Rodrigo and me fought off the Moorish invaders from the south, taking Granada and the great city of Cordoba back into our rule. My prince was quite instrumental on bringing the heathens onto their knees, delighting in their capitulation. You can never please anybody; later he would constantly annoy me about permission to sail to the sands to finish them once and forever. So now, we owned the scorpions that fathered those heathens. By then, our work in Iberia was practically finished and getting across the Pyrenees to explore was not a bad idea.

It seemed like everyone was attracted to our lands. Though the Moorish conquest of Southern Iberia in the past was quite terrifying, the thought of our lands falling to someone of whom we never met is quite the nightmare. Nightmares would turn to reality, as I remembered seeing men in gray who spoke with an accent similar to ours. They seemingly came to our lands to skirmish, and once our spies discovered of their place in the world as the "Kingdom of Sicily", that's the time I heard some blacksmith pounding metal, telling me that my son ordered him to make a sharper sword. That's when I knew that Sicily would become a relic of the past. Now most scholars that I question about this Kingdom always reply with "what is that supposed to be?"

Ah, Rodrigo. Such an ambitious and equally dastardly man he is. Always willing to blow out another candle whenever need be. However, these Sicilians were not completely gone. As soon as an ex-general of Sicily caught eye of our castle of Tunis, he led these pro-Sicilian separatist dogs to the castle.

While Tunis was quickly retaken by my son of course, our kingdom spanned well away from Iberia. From there, many were attracted to, not our lands, but in forming bonds with us.

Anybody who was French was what I liked to call a "brother". That ship has sailed now; France's king stuck a dagger down our backs and they're paying a price for it. Everyone else who of course wasn't French, had the opportunity to become our brothers-in-arms. Our skilled diplomats have managed to reach out to the merchants of Venice, the fishermen of Portugal, the seafarers of Denmark and even the militaristic jackals at Milan for alliances. All have accepted, but whether or not they choose to keep our arms linked is something I still think about.

My son doesn't seem to care, though he does have interest in making said fishermen our county again. Diplomats however, would always reach my throne telling me about their nervous tone of voice, denying their deals while they handed us gifts; their hands fidgeting as they pleaded we take it. Needless to say, our respectable power has not went unnoticed.

Even the so called "Holy Roman Empire" noticed the burning flame that was Spain. Allowing us to purchase ourselves one of their castles was a great way with dealing with settlements without brute force. It was definitely not a great way to preventing my son's tirade of why we should have decorated Staufen with German corpses.

The current state of my kingdom progresses well. Though people around the world have mixed feelings about our prominence, I would say that most nations would feel comfortable around us, even in war, knowing that their citizens won't be hurt. It could change if my son can't; he is, after all, my successor, and God's blood I am getting quite old... and sick...

**Alwyn** · October 07, 2017, 08:52 AM

A good beginning! I'm enjoying your first person narrative. You have some great lines, I particularly like the one about owning 'the scorpions that fathered those heathens' and the description of what Rodrigo is always willing to do - nicely done!

**krazyfilmer123** · October 07, 2017, 12:03 PM

Chapter 2: Piecemeal Supper

(Alfonso)

I could view my own heavy breath as I and my brethren marched through the thick snow. We were marching to what the French loved the most more than a glass of wine: their great and venerable capital.

From there, I and my army laid a siege onto it, starving out whoever was in that settlement; presumably some lowly governor. Some of my soldiers suggested that I keep better watch of what could be lurking around; the dense forests of France provides good cover for her own fighters, willing to stalk their prey to no end. I expected it to happen, and as soon as a few months went by, French reinforcements were called by to deal with my men.

I withdrew at first; my men already spent from sprinting for their lives. The French were, surprisingly, competent enough to follow my trail. Therefore, the French military had their sights on my army, as we chose to sit atop a hill, albeit a shallow one.

My army was mostly composed of mercenaries and foreign contractors of whom I had enough money to pay. I couldn't trust my own countrymen to do a competent job, save work as cavalry troops. The crossbowmen that I hired did a great job at softening the first force before they charged.

The mercenary spearmen at the front line held the line well, as both them and the French army enjoyed a good melee. So did my horsemen, who charged them in the flank and rear. The crossbow bolts combined with the force of our cavalry shook them to no end, causing a disorderly rout. Even their own general was spineless enough to ride away.

As the first wave of French were dealt with, I saw the second one on the horizon, emerging from the thick mist. I couldn't really make out what the figures coming out were; my vision interpreted them as big blurs. I asked the younger man next to me to tell me what they were, and told me that he saw what appeared to be the French king himself.

I asked if he was joking, to which he bluntly replied "no". I could see the second wave a lot more clearly as they approached closer. I saw a man on a horse, wearing a crown similar to mine. So, I could confirm that the young man was right. But who were those beside him? The king himself had barded horses just like mine, and so did those other nobles or governors. Everything else besides them was not concerning, although I found it sickening that the French king used his own citizens to fight out in the cold.

I asked my crossbowmen to aim at the barded horsemen; they were of course, the biggest threat to our army. Despite their power, reloading a crossbow is really slow and tedious. They couldn't get enough volleys off to kill enough of the bodyguards, so I pulled them back and let French foolishness charge into my line of spears.

Once again, I and my cavalry separated ourselves, aiming to charged into the rear of the enemy on both sides. As the French king himself decided to charge first into the line of spears, I yearned to meet him face to face. After all, their is nothing more honorable than two kings setting aside their differences with a duel.

"HENRY! MICHIEL! DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME, JUST RUN!"

I heard the crowned man cry out as he hit the cold ground below, as one of the mercenaries impaled him. I was annoyed that I couldn't get a chance to fight the other king, although I commended my spearmen for being gallant enough to slay an important target. But only just.

As expected from the rest of the army, a wave of panic spread across them, particularly in those two nobles whom the king was shouting at, wanting to get away more than everyone else. Luckily, my horseman were fast enough to have them in our clutches as they desperately tried to escape.

Our whole army cheered, as men with their skin damp basked in the cold air for refreshment. I didn't expect to win this battle, but had the French came in as a full force, I would've seen myself decimated under their feet.

We captured as much as we could. I didn't feel any need to execute them, nor release them carelessly. I felt a need to put their lives up for a price, albeit quite dishonorable; I did need to fill my coffers somehow. I was lucky enough to find one young mercenary who personally knew the Prince of France, now crowned as the new king. I quickly wrote a letter about the ransom, and the mercenary came back a few weeks later to inform him of his denial to pay for his troops.

Every French soldier of whom was captured were rounded up, including the two nobles at the front. I took a closer look at the two, only to realize that they looked too well groomed and dressed to be regular nobles. Right after, a captain gave the order to fire. I felt my stomach turn and guilt fill my soul as the bolts tearing up the two nobles could've been the king's sons. Even more so at the stench that followed.

At this point, my path to the French capital was completely clear, devoid of any defense. I and my soldiers freely walked through the streets, and soon I was happily greeted by a mob of angry peasants. Nothing I couldn't handle, so I demanded that my soldiers refrain from pillaging this city, much to their disappointment.

Paris was now Spanish soil.

**Adanlohrd2** · December 01, 2017, 09:54 AM

Chapter 2: Piecemeal Supper

When Alfonso mentions that Paris is "grand and venerable," I would like to know whether, when he was a friend of France, he appreciated Paris or whether he spoke only in a way that France itself viewed its capital. What did Alfonso really think of Paris?

"I could not trust my own countrymen to do the competent job, save work the cavalry troops." How can a king not trust his own men, but mercenaries? This is absurd!

And he still criticizes the fact that the French king sent his own citizens to the war, but I think Alfonso was not in the position to judge, since he is not trusted in his soldiers. At least the French king trusted his citizens.

In addition, glory to Spain, who captured Paris.

**Caillagh de Bodemloze** · October 08, 2017, 09:16 AM

Taking France seems to have been quite straightforward - I'm sure Alfonso was pleased about that.

Alfonso's son does seem slightly worrying. Useful in battle, of course, but only so long as he remains loyal and doesn't decide he wants power for himself...

**krazyfilmer123** · October 08, 2017, 01:23 PM

Chapter 3: Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

(Rodrigo)

It's been a few months since mi padre left the physical world and into the afterlife, or whatever.

Though I have teared up at his funeral, remembering of the time back in Leon where he raised me, I was more concerned of clearing up the falsehoods he's been spreading about myself. I do admit, the lust is always on me to hack and slash once the enemy appears, but my father exaggerates it due to being too chivalrous. You will never find a day where he doesn't brag about his moral superiority, and how he calls out things even remotely nefarious. I love mi padre Alfonso, but by God's arse, he was so frustrating to deal with. Nobody's perfect, and you don't have to strive to be as such. So long as you can do things that work.

Most nobles can tell that being in my dynasty is a painful experience; from losing a sister due to stupid claims of "witchcraft", to discovering wolves posing as innocent sheep, it is tough to deal with. The Portuguese cut off our trade routes, Milan's jingoism knew no bounds, and the French... don't get me started on them. Well, when you have to deal with a world full of wolves, you have no choice to be a wolf yourself.

But amidst all the troubled times with two stars in our family fading away, another began to shine; brightly so. The last son of Alfonso of whom is my younger brother, recently came of age a few months prior. I rode my horse all the way to Paris to meet up and celebrate with my old father and him, fancying ourselves with the juiciest calf. José is a brother that is everything a princess could want in a husband; he's picked up some chivalry from our father, he likes a good drink, and is handsome enough to make even the manliest person kiss him. I pointed him in the general direction, and now he'll be the next one of whom I pass the kingly torch.

Even then, I still feel the burning desire to make all of Iberia Spanish, and to cram the Milanese crossbows down their own throats. That has to come later; I still have France to deal with. So, while my Prince is up north dealing with Northern France, I will see Southern France as my own soon enough. After all, their last king became too fat to fight, and thus died shamefully in the confines of Toulouse while we made it Spanish soil.

Marseille was the last piece of French territory in the south. I first landed on the Milanese territory of Corsica, sailing to Marseille, and now our siege equipment was ready to make way for our rampage.

My heart pounded as I heard the ram bust open the gates. I led my cavalry within the French walls, and any militiaman who stood idly by was crushed beneath our hooves. I felt a bit of pity for the governor of whom had to experience our fury before his own eyes, seeing his own men be squashed against the concrete. Bravely enough for him, he decided to valiantly charge our soldiers in order to help his own, risking his own life- i'm joking. He ran away.

Not even the spearmen could contest with the sheer strength of multiple cavalry units. The French were well prepared with some elite spearmen, but it was nothing that our heavy knight infantry couldn't handle. We had them in our clutches from all sides, and thus they uselessly fought to the death. While I was within the crowd of all of my horsemen, we led ourselves near the town square.

While on our way to the heart of Marseille, I was confronted by a few volleys from French crossbowmen. While they met my armor with bolts, I returned the favor with lances. Haha, I could just see the regret in their eyes.

Their ballistae were rendered useless, and every militiaman has been wiped clean by our professional warriors. Waiting within the town square was it's lowly governor, whom I approached while him after all his bodyguards were wiped out.

"What is your name, lord?" I asked while I stared him in the eyes.

"Perrin."

"Perrin? That's a nice name. A shame nobody will remember it."

Then I gave the order for the crossbow squad to fire.

As the city of Marseille is a coastal one, the riches that it's people got to enjoy was something I payed attention to. My men must've been really tired from all the travelling, so what better way to appease them by setting them loose to take whatever they saw fit? My men managed to come back to me with twelve-thousand florins, out of twenty-four-thousand where the other half went to themselves. In other words, a lot of money.

Being a king has it's benefits, of course.

**Adanlohrd2** · December 03, 2017, 08:57 PM

Chapter 3: Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

Rodrigo is so rough with his late father, but with his younger brother he seems to be more docile. He is very arrogant too. Who invaded France was his father, who conquered Paris was his father. I want to see what will be the Rodrigo de achievements in Italy, because he is very proud for things it was not him who won, but his father.

**Caillagh de Bodemloze** · October 10, 2017, 08:58 AM

So... should I ask how Alfonso died?

I like the way you've made Rodrigo a bit more informal - almost disrespectful - compared to his dad.

**krazyfilmer123** · October 10, 2017, 10:27 PM

Chapter 4: Kill Thy Neighbor

(Rodrigo)

All southern fiefdoms of France were now under our control. My younger brother has taken another city in Northern France, and now the French see themselves surrounded. But it looks like they're too stubborn to accept that we could preserve their culture by making them a vassal. It is to be expected; I could conquer the entire world and the French would still have a bigger ego, so I do have no choice but to see use brute force to make them submit. However, the big man in cloth all the way at Rome has told us to stop; not that I would actually fear him face to face. I just cannot afford to see Crusaders attracted to my excommunicate cities, like flies on dung.

Meanwhile, the militaristic Milanese gnaw at Spain's arms. After their betrayal, my army has dealt with one of their skirmishes. While I do know of Milan's obsession with the crossbow, reports of the defense of Staufen suggest that their power is unmatched. Casualties were high in our ranks at the siege, but whatever; the report told me that the Milanese all met their maker. They have managed to take Sardinia away from us, but of course, the stupid Bishop of Rome won't bat an eye, for some odd reason.

I ate myself a leisurely breakfast, and soon I went outside under the clear sky, walking to the council chambers. There, I flattened the world map, with our gold-colored kingdom in sight. A delightful view, indeed. Augh, but the militarists, drunkards and fishermen on the map. Like warts on the face of the Earth. Disgusting. Most disgusting of all were of course, the fishermen. What were they doing on what should be MY peninsula? I married their half-decent princess for a marriage, what more could they want? Oh well. I'm the shark who's coming for them.

I greeted myself back inside the Pyrenees with a siege. Of course, this didn't stop their king from calling in more reinforcements to compensate for their flawed skill.

Pamplona was on the horizon; the military powerhouse of Portugal. Laying siege and taking it was a great idea in my eyes; seeing their military reduced to peasants and rabble from taking this would be a pleasing sight. Nonetheless, the first wave of Portuguese was the most powerful with about eight-hundred men strong, charging up the shallow hill my army sat on.

Our army took a more professional turn, as our crossbow could fling bolts better and so could our heavy knights, brandishing their swords. I watched on proudly as my tough men held the line with glee.

"Cavalry! Split up! Charge into the flanks of the enemy!" I shouted, galloping behind the Portuguese army. While they were busy swinging their weapons, we happily greeted all of them with a nasty surprise. Nothing more amusing than making the sky rain screaming soldiers.

The Portuguese army, seemingly made up of both professional and militia warriors, came at us head on, only to meet a shameful defeat. Our army did not take too much casualties, as I managed to use my horsemen well. After all, we needed enough of them to chase down those who flee, and by God, there were many cowardly Portuguese soldiers to feast our swords on. We decorated the hill with a sea of corpses, fitting for dead fishermen. Now, I moved my army forwards to meet the second wave of soldiers.

This man, Affonso, has sent me a letter regarding the battlefield he chose. Great that he chose this one, I had many hills to pick from and the enemy had none. I became bloodthirsty, as I really wanted to stick my sword in that king. Me and Affonso knew each other since we were princes, growing up in the peninsula and now were both fully-fledged rulers. I desired at seeing who would stand victorious upon the valley of death.

My crossbowmen were prepared to fire, while I leisurely watched some falcons gracefully flying across the sky. The moment was soon ruined when I heard screams rang out, and at the corner of my eyes I could see massive amounts of barded horses shredding my infantry.

There he was. That was him, the one with the crown atop his head.

Needed to cut him up, needed to, but God's blood, stupid light cavalry came in my way in "honor" of defending their king. My bodyguard and I made quick work of them, and once that was over, I saw a bloodied Affonso within my sights.

"Affonso. I haven't seen you since the birth of Jesus."

"No time for talk with words, Rodrigo. You do it with the edge of your blade. Now, GIVE ME ALL YOU'VE GOT!"

"If you say so."

Our swords clashed, our bodies were slashed, and we made rivers of our own sweat under the baking-hot sun. Finally, I saw Affonso panting loudly with utter exhaustion, and that was where his suffering came to a close.

"Spain sends her regards," I said as I thrust my blade through my former friend's chest, sending him into wherever God wanted him to be.

Although most of my men died due to Affonso's incredible cavalry charge alongside other bodyguards, the day was still won nonetheless. Knights are easily replaceable, anyway. Not as replaceable as an heir, as I saw Affonso's prince run to save his own skin. Not like it mattered, our forces caught him in his tracks and he met a much more painful destiny in front of crossbow squads.

A big part of Portugal's army should be weakened. No longer can they grab incredible shining armor. Their existence is now weak, and from what I gathered from the updated world map, a wart on Iberia would be removed soon enough.

**krazyfilmer123** · October 14, 2017, 05:25 PM

Chapter 5: Lord of Terror

(Rodrigo)

It had been a few years since I fought along brothers against our enemies, where Pamplona fell under Spanish rule. Ever since then, I left the Pyrenees once again and left the fate of the now-pathetic Portuguese up to army captains.

I have successfully proven my worth as a ruler. Not one man has rebelled against my rule, and everyone followed my orders verbatim like good men. Sardinia is now back under our rule, Portugal's nobility lay slaughtered by our men, and my brother has done marvelous work up north, reporting back to me about his conquest of Normandy.

However, being a king and issuing orders to many across the world is an arduous process, forcing my hands to function as I endlessly write letters of both demand and news. As I picked up my sword that laid around in my room, I felt the blunt edge of it with my fingertips, and started to miss the blood spilled onto it. What does appease me is the fear I can still channel from afar, with my diplomats quoting threats from me verbatim, with the utmost conviction as they demand tribute and even settlements. It worked once with the English, but it isn't enough. Need something more... exciting.

By God, I asked myself about why I was just sitting there, while the multitudes of fiends gnawed at my tabard? I had plenty of blood I could feast upon; militants at Milan, drunkards of France, and many more, including the English, who so happened to have recently laid siege to one of my provinces. Right after I thought of this, one of my soldiers barged into my room, demanding that I take a look outside from the ramparts of Spanish Toulouse.

I was greeted with a few arrows whizzing past my head, and below my fortress was an angry horde; their bows, spears and swords raised as the taunted us.

"Finally," I said as I smirked widely, knowing that my statement about France's ego was correct.

The French has seemingly launched a campaign against one of their former provinces, bringing with them many men. My own looked on with fear, but as we looked closer, we could see the lack of both training and cavalry that these men had. Most were levy spearmen, brought up from the peasantry. I then issued an order to my army.

"The infantry can stay back and guard the perimeter. I and the horsemen will have a lot of amusement here."

We rode past the entire army, and we saw barded horsemen guarding a well-dressed noble who was thought to be the army's leader. I smiled in delight at the thought of a massive slaughter that would befall these worthless peasants, foolish enough to oppose my rule.

I and my horsemen moved in a bit closer, and finally we rode towards the noble's bodyguard with our lances out, crashing violently into them and making the grass below fleshy red. The noble was quickly subdued, and I could just smell the amount of regret the French had as they seemingly wished they were never born.

With their leader dead, I ordered the cavalry to all gather up, creating a daunting stampede that crashed into the worthless infantry. We savagely slaughtered as much as we wanted, sweeping through the entire army effortlessly. I watched as soldiers screamed in horror, seeing as their friends were gutted at the edge of the sword.

The Frenchmen immediately dropped whatever they were holding and became fearful young children as they saw us coming for them.

Many of these cowards yearned to find the steepest hill, or cower in the dense forests. By this point, our horses and those riding them became weary; even smacking my men's helmets didn't help their energy. The French were lucky enough to escape our doom, leading me to angrily punch one of my men off their horse.

Some others ceased running and accepted their fate, just as I wanted all of them to. But alas, most of others managed to save their own skin even without their leaders, and chasing them endlessly would be pointless. After all, the French are innately spineless worms.

Their effort to take back Toulouse was an abject failure. I took the name of "the Killer" as most scholars have pointed out, and I would say that i'm bound to take many more as time progresses. Let's see what the scholars will come up with one I march on into Italy, as I await to see what the Milanese are made out of.

With the French away from Toulouse, it was time to take three nations by storm. Mi hermano menor, José, has recently sent a letter regarding fielding an army to take down the weakened French. Meanwhile, I have been notified of Spanish captains on their way to the fish-reeking capital of Lisbon, ready to end a realm's sad existence.

Coming with me to Italy is my son Ferrand, whom has came out of boyhood to field his own army. With him is naivety of course, but is exceptionally bright and irritable, making him a fine commander that scares the hell out of his own men. Good to see that my family runs with my own blood and personality.

Nonetheless, these nations have managed to greatly agitate the bull this time. Later, they will know what God has willed.

**Caillagh de Bodemloze** · October 15, 2017, 06:16 AM

Things seem to be going well for Rodrigo.

There are some nice lines in this - I liked this one, for instance:

Our swords clashed, our bodies were slashed, and we made rivers of our own sweat under the baking-hot sun.

**krazyfilmer123** · October 16, 2017, 10:25 PM

Chapter 6: Righteous Reign

(José)

As I went inside our nation's throne room in Marseille, I was greeted by my older brother, of whom had another child come of age. As I saw my fresh nephew at the table, I could tell that he was truly a son of Rodrigo; he wore the same tabard, rambled on about a peasant he bullied, and even had the same lazy bowl haircut. Then, two nephews introduced themselves as Ferrand and Lope, the latter of whom came of age that day. They told me of their future campaign in Italy, with them and my brother battling against the Milanese. I've never heard of them before, but news circulating around the kingdom suggested that they are not ones to be underestimated.

While my nephews and mi hermano head on to Italy, I had to ride my steed back to my camp outside Dijon, a French territory landlocked by our own. Despite Lope repeating that i'm too young to be his uncle as i'm only 7 years his senior, hopefully I could at least impress him with what I was about to do.

I approached the camp outside the city walls, seeing the siege equipment I requested my soldiers to build while I was away. On the horizon were the hard stone walls that surrounded my army. I prayed that I wouldn't get hit by an arrow, and I wished I could use a catapult in place of the primitive rams and ladders.

Our ram busted the gates open, and all of my countrymen and mercenaries went inside, pushing and shoving amongst themselves as I asked my infantrymen to get in position. Luckily, not a single Frenchman bothered to guard the gates, but I could hear a loud voice talking near another area, presumably the other French dogs.

"T'inquiete, il y a beaucoup d'autre renforts qui viennent de l'est."

A kind mercenary translated their foreign words in time, telling me that there are more reinforcements coming east of them and us. So, I quickly ordered my men to block the nearby roads, adjacent to the entrances I predicted they would flood in from.

All of a sudden, I heard repeated galloping as I was met with slashes from incoming French knights. Bloodied, I fought as much as I could, managing to make about four of them around me to crash down in pain. Soon, I was greeted with more knights to the left of I and my bodyguard, of whom guarded a fancily-dressed noble.

After an exchange of slashes between the other bodyguard and mine, the noble's clothes did not look as pretty as before, being all bloodied from vicious stabs. Soon after, I heard clashing from my right as my infantry fought with the other French soldiers. I hurried to their position, and saw the hordes of Frenchmen that tried shoving through my infantry. I ordered my horsemen to quickly find a pathway behind them all, and soon, the French were met with grave danger from behind as my horsemen and infantry crushed them from two fronts. What followed was an endless massacre from the panicking French, and a nauseating stench that followed.

My horsemen soon heard ballistae being pushed by French crewmen, and I ordered them to ambush them and leave none alive. I tried calming myself with my use of language; it wasn't befitting of a noble man.

All of the reinforcements were either dead or dying, along with every ranged unit that the French had. I moved my entire army to another side of the city. I did it since the straight road could benefit the line of sight for my crossbowmen to rain hell, but also because of the foul odor from the pile of dead Frenchmen.

At our new position, I ordered my men to form a defensive position, with spearmen blocking the pathway and knights sitting to their right in another. I called this position a "Hive" position; if I could lure the French with a few volleys, they would just charge into spearmen like fools, while the knights could finish them from behind, effectively blocking any escape. I yearned for this experiment to work, especially against arrogant idiots like our enemy that day.

I heard the crossbowmen releasing death, as bolts pierced through the Frenchmen sitting in the town square. They saw these men firing, and in time my crossbowmen ran from what was about to approach. Everyone else braced for it.

"MONTJOIE SAINT-DENIS!"

The French cried out as they charged my infantry line, flinging soldiers into the air. I was quite impressed, but it soon withered away as the French couldn't resist the spears that were ready for them. Among the horsemen was another nicely-dressed noble, albeit more nicely dressed than the previous one I saw. My heavy knights emerged from behind and met the noble, whom I thought was the commander. I saw him work himself up as he was surrounded by my men, trying to jerk his way out of my soldiers, only to crash to the ground in agony.

I quietly chuckled, smirking as my soldiers beat up his corpse... i'm a terrible person.

"MEN! Move up near the town square! Hive position!" I shouted, ordering my men to form the same position more closer to the remaining Frenchmen in the heart of Dijon.

I was close enough to see what was going on in the town square. I saw many French soldiers cowering amongst themselves before my crossbowmen began firing. Meanwhile, I saw another man with a crown atop his head. That had to be the king, despite the fact that he was sleeping on his horse, with bottles of wine surrounding it. Soon enough, this drunkard king fell to the ground, shot dead from the crossbowmen; neither I or did his soldiers feel much remorse.

Some of the French militia stopped cowering amongst each other, foolishly charging into my crossbowmen. The engagement lasted more longer than I wanted, so I and my bodyguard joined the brawl. As we reached the infantry, I felt the need for a couple of French heads, only to find myself pulling through the entire line of French infantry like a madman, flinging men out of my path with my horse. By then, I was behind them completely. I guess that's why others said that i'm just like my brother, but that was evidently an overstatement, as it was out of the intensity of that moment.

Very few of my own men died from that engagement, and soon all of whom remained were shot down by crossbowmen. Once again, the remaining soldiers ran up to my firing squads in foolishness, yearning to engage. Needless to say, they met a swift death before the bolt.

The French soldiers that remained I instead kicked out of the city. Meanwhile, my soldiers took deep breaths and drank from the nearest well for refreshment. I ordered others to pull down every French flag which proudly displayed lilies on it. I would soon see them burned, but I took one, despite having burn marks and rips on it.

As far as I knew at this point, I didn't know any French city that displayed their flag on it; only yellow Spanish banners. That was when I knew that the French were no more.

As I pick up the crown of the dead French king, then I thought: What would mi padre Alfonso do? I thought about honoring the French king's crown by it placing next to his grave, just like my father did, but alas, I couldn't help but take it as a war trophy and dispose of his body instead. Everything I did up to this point would make my father's blood boil, but at least I ended up peacefully occupying the city.

I always tried to maintain my honor, just as my father did until his last breath on his bed; from occupying places without pillaging, to withholding my carnal desires for curvy women, I tried everything. Even then, a knight under my command loyally follows me around, inspired by my merciless actions of which were obviously done out of anger.

Soon after, I would bring the crown and French flag with me as I rode on back to Marseille, where my brother and nephews were still stationed. I greeted them with a kiss on their two cheeks, and showed them the two items I brought. Lope soon asked me of what I did.

"Just ended a kingdom," I said nonchalantly, despite feeling some shame inside.

While Lope's eyes became the size of dinner plates, my brother approached me and whispered in my ear.

"You're more like me than you think."

**krazyfilmer123** · October 28, 2017, 05:28 PM

Apologies for the late update. Not only did I have work outside of this, but I was also having a blast playing Rome Total War. Nonetheless, here's a new chapter

Chapter 7: Trip to Venice

(Ferrand)

Ever since my uncle José has shown me the crown of the past French king, it has ignited a fire in my chest of which told me to bring home the same things, where my children and grandchildren can look on with amazement. The opportunity was of course present; with Genoa under the Spanish banner, our proud nation has a foothold in the lands of Italy. Among our enemies at this moment are the Venetians, of whom have stabbed our backs several times; this was now the last.

Mi padre allowed me to gather up his knights; their swords in hand and ready to slash. From there, I would be tasked to invade the biggest jewel Venice ever had. I ordered my army to follow the path of which our scouts have told us to go, ending up outside magnificent stone walls that even God can't tear down.

The siege equipment was built, and as I gazed upon the great walls of Venice itself, I and my soldiers had a lust that only it's riches could cure. In preparation, I had enough coin to hire myself foreign mercenaries, I brought the finest knights, and was gifted with the bravest horsemen.

The Venetian spearmen were, surprisingly, foolish enough to barge outside their own gates, engaging the men whom i've ordered to operate the ram. They would soon regret this decision and be pushed back whence they came; the purse-ridden pool of Venice, which was a big and valuable target.

I proudly marched inside the Venetian walls, welcomed by an attack from my left and right. As I shouted at my men to hold the line, I whacked a soldier's helmet to force his sword into the enemy. The high-quality crossbows of which their barracks produced widely could not save them, and soon they would all be sent into the afterlife, without their chests full of gold. We managed to push through the Venetians lines, filling their hearts with fear.

A stray bolt whizzed past my head, and I swiftly turned my head; my nostrils flared and face a bright tomato as I went on to relentlessly pursue the Venetian crossbowmen, who ran as they saw horse barded in yellow, coming after them. My bodyguard, of course, had no choice but to deal with my rage and follow suit.

"Come back here and fight me cowards," I shouted, collecting heads as I swooped my sword down from atop my steed.

The last Venetian fell flat on his face on the hard concrete, bloodied by my sword.

"Well. Methinks that's all of them. Let us meet back with the other soldiers-"

I was quickly interrupted as a crowd of Venetian spearmen flooded in from behind us, and we were soon encompassed in a mob of angry Italians. All of us tried fighting our way through, as we struggled to keep their spears away from our horses. I looked behind and saw my bodyguards tumbling down into the sea of men, while I screamed in both pain and anger as spears reached my spine. Thankfully, the Lord allowed me to continue my journey on Earth, escaping the horde albeit with many scars.

My worries soon escaped my nerves, but immediately filled in again as I heard a loud crash somewhere around the heart of Venice. Despite the excruciating pain under my tabard, I carried on with orders and blew the horn, ordering my knights to charge into the town square.

We reached the town square, and below us were the charred remains of my horsemen, and in front of it was an accursed catapult. It was after this moment that I reminded myself to always keep watch of these, lest my soldiers be grilled in fire. As a response, it was a necessity to close in, but I kept myself out of it as I still had much more years to live...

Though I can consider the Italian spearmen to be competent warriors, the were ground to dust by our Spanish knights, hardened with training and a good meal. While the Italians wore leather armor, my soldiers were clad in chain mail and hard helmets, bringing with them Spanish steel. Screaming "Santiago", I watched on with pride as my countrymen gallantly charged into the ranks of soldiers.

Galloping from the right soon filled my ears of my soldiers, as my hardened Spanish knights finished the job at the ends of their lances. After this, I would see them leave the town square to crush anyone else who was still standing, clad in red. Soon after, I smiled in amusement as I saw Venetians flung into the air in the distance.

No Venetian was left standing in their own venerable city, as all that was standing were the ones dressed in yellow. As a soldier among the crowd shouted "triumph" at the top of his lungs, swords were raised and victory filled the air. I soon rode my horse in front of my men with pride.

"So, who would like themselves a good feast?"

My soldiers replied to me with a gregarious cheer. Realizing the riches of this place, I had one more obvious thing on my mind.

"How about some riches, gold, and pretty ladies!"

Then my soldiers cheered again, because I and them knew full well what war was all about.

The day after the night of shouting, looting and pillaging, a report has reached my new villa about the amount of florins that our soldiers had brought back. My eyes shined with amazement as I saw strongbox after strongbox being carried in my residence. While I took a few goods for myself, I ordered my men to bring these back to my father, so that his purse may be fattened greatly.

I smirked in pride of my recent achievement, and while I walked down the street with my countrymen patting me on the back, the pauper of the city spat on my foot. That foot would soon be bloodied as it reached their jaws, of course.

While I do know of Venice's wealth, it should now be very amusing to see them as peasants on the streets, begging for coin.

**Caillagh de Bodemloze** · November 01, 2017, 11:00 AM

I like the way there are reverses of fortune in your battle - Ferrand enters Venice and deals with the first opposition easily, but is then badly wounded. He survives and fights on, but discovers the loss of his horsemen. Only after that is the battle won.

**Alwyn** · November 10, 2017, 11:57 AM

Great chapters, I like the way that each chapter is in the style of the character who is narrating it. As Caillagh said, the battle in the latest chapter is well done. Ferrand seems to be happy with what happened at Venice, I wonder if he will treat other cities in a similar way and, if so, what the consequences of that might be.

**krazyfilmer123** · November 18, 2017, 08:34 PM

Thanks Alwyn. That's the point of the AAR; i've planned to have all chapters be told by characters according to their personality, which to me would be very fun to do as i won't know what kind of person i'm getting in the royal family

Chapter 8: Cutting Off The Viper's Head

(Lope)

"Get up, NOW! YOU HAVE A SWORD TO SWING!" shouted my father, forcefully pulling me off my bed as my eyes started opening.

"Yes, I KNOW! For the love of God, just let me get myself ready!" I shouted back, rushing towards my drawer to prepare my clothes. My father busted out of my room, and soon I did as well, hurrying towards the army that awaited me outside, albeit with tired eyes and messy hair.

All of my soldiers packed their belongings, and we left Genoa to head onward to the last set of walls Milan had, after my previous conquest of Corsica from them. Soon, I would conquer walls two times bigger than what my brother conquered; Milan's most precious city.

I had the luxury to have a skilled spy at my side, sending me reports of what he saw lurking inside the soon-to-be-taken walls. Inside were dozens of cavalry units, with some Genoese marksmen and spearmen at their side. I had cavalry of my own, but their experience made them hardened warriors whose armor shined under the sun. Considering these facts, this would be quite the easy battle.

I was looking for a man named Agostino, whom the spy said was a dauntless man that could look in the face of danger, smiling. That's perhaps exactly what I got. After the spy opened the gates, my soldiers charged into the defending forces, hacking through them. After we did so, someone called out my forces in the distance.

"Come out you Spaniards. I fear no man!"

My mouth slowly shaped into a smirk as I was amused by his foolishness. I called out all of my cavalry, and from Agostino's position in front of our army we emerged from both sides with our swords unsheathed. We had him completely surrounded, and one by one, his bodyguards were struck down until only the general himself remained.

"Fear not, my comrades! GOD IS WITH US!" cried out the Milanese general, seeing as his horse stood up in excitement. God truly wanted to see them without life, and that was exactly what we delivered as we struck Agostino off his steed, albeit facing him took long as his armor was more sturdy than I imagined. Coward.

I lead my army to another side of the city, meeting up with my crossbow units that I ordered to be positioned at another side of the walls. These crossbowmen were the perfect embodiment of revenge; they were the most skilled ranged units I had; they had a pavise shield pasted on their back and had uncanny accuracy. Of course, they were Milanese-inspired crossbowmen, and that was exactly why I brought them here - to see how their own medicine felt like.

Despite the accuracy of my crossbowmen, the Milanese soldiers wandered off wherever they saw fit; the garrison having no sense of unity or organisation, as the serpent's head had already been cut off. A few minutes later, they would be united within the city square. And united they would all die.

Not all of the Milanese soldiers felt united however, as the arrogance of their own crossbowmen led them to wander away from the town square, yearning to get closer volleys at my men. They would soon be met with punishment as they realized the peril they put themselves into, and due to their demise, about two thirds of their missile units met their maker. This would pave way for something quite daring and foolish on the part of the Italians, as they had almost nothing to shoot us with.

I heeded my uncle's advice about a "Hive" position he made that would work in most crossroads. What he did not tell me was how effective it was. Involving crossbowmen that would lure the enemy, infantry would be positioned across each other. If the enemy attacked one side of infantry, the other would flank them, trapping them in place. The impressive range of my crossbowmen combined with the infantry subdued much of the Italian cavalry, as the forces sent out against mine became progressively bigger and aggressive.

Sometimes, Milanese cavalrymen would try to struggle through my trap, only to be brought down into the sea of yellow. The effectiveness of the trap prevented my army from sustaining many casualties; my soldiers felt omnipotent as they encompassed those clueless enough to realize their great danger.

After many of the Milanese cavalry were eliminated, I shouted the final order to my men.

"CROSSBOWMEN! Form up lines in front of the city square! The heavy infantry will form up behind you. Now rain hell upon those left, and give them A REASON FOR HATE!"

As soon as the bolts were flung into the town square, the Milanese army acted in utter desperation, charging into the thick ranks of my soldiers. Even their crossbowmen were subjected to their swords, having nothing to fire yet yearning for bloody melee. Obviously enough, I wanted the same, as I and my bodyguard shoved through my countrymen's ranks to deliver a final blow from behind.

I and my bodyguard were behind them, and soon we dropped our lances down and crashed into the rear of Milanese soldiers, indulging in their wailing as I heard the audible breaking of their spines; blood spurting out of their bodies. My infantry would follow suit, pushing against the Milanese ranks and reducing them to lifelessness. There was nothing left to slash. I saw my soldiers rip off their helmets, bathing in the sun above, and soon I would address them one last time.

"All of Christendom will look on with amazement for your gallantry this day. NOW CRY OUT, AND BASK IN GLORY'S EMBRACE!"

My men replied with a loud cheer, tirelessly raising their swords and praising the Almighty atop the mountains of death.

A few days after peacefully occupying this most venerable city, I was soon instructed by my father in a letter to set up gallows on the ramparts, ordering that many lifeless Milanese fops should dangle from them. As much as I abhorred this request and the stench, it would be no doubt that former Milanese soldiers would band up to take back what was rightfully there's; this would keep them at bay and, according to him, would "show who reigns supreme and who were but relics of the past".

The next day, I was informed again about an inspector being sent by my father in order to inspect casualties, whom sent back a report on my performance as a commander. At the day the letter was sent, one of my assistants spotted me folding Spanish tabards, stacking them up and placing them in the corner of the armory.

"That's a lot of our own dead... those Milanese men must be worthy fighters." said my assistant. I turned around, replying critically.

"It should matter not how little or how much my men died. Be glad that we won."

I turned away, my lips compressed in shame as I my eyes wandered around the floor. Luckily, the uniforms I stacked were cleaned and hidden within the armory, and every body that wore them were disposed. The next day, the inspector would jot down how little casualties there were.

I could sleep tightly at that night, knowing my father wouldn't make me as much a relic of the past as Milan, nor dangle lifelessly like those at the ramparts.

**Alwyn** · November 19, 2017, 10:30 AM

I enjoyed this! It sounds like Lope was very glad that he followed his uncle's advice.

**krazyfilmer123** · November 25, 2017, 07:44 PM

Chapter 9: Admission to Perdition

(Rodrigo)

My iron fist was unmatched.

As Milan had recently fallen, many conquests have been made not just by land, but of the hearts of others. The Danes to the north still faithfully follow me as brothers in arms, despite the honorless antics of my other allies. About a year back, I have also been proud to call the Byzantines as brothers, and hopefully, they'll pass the test of undying loyalty.

But as much as there were hearts to win, there still much lands to win, and as an emissary reached my throne with a captain's report, I knew that my smirk would not waver.

"An after-action report from one of your captains in Iberia, your majesty."

I looked the emissary in the eyes. "Many thanks." After, I would peruse the text with the same smirk remaining intact. It read as follows:

To the King and Supreme Ruler of all Spain, and the soon-to-be ruler of all Iberia, Rodrigo el Valiente

My men have reached the western edge of Iberia, and there I stopped my army to deal with the Portuguese forces. Behind them was Lisbon, their rich city and the only bolthole with which they could hide, and which I had to stick the Spanish banner onto. But alas, they came out of it, and although their forces were divided they brought both their king and prince with them.

I knew that this could mean the difference between absolute triumph and utter failure. The forces you gave me were mostly handpicked from farms and given spears and crossbows, whom most would see as poor excuses for warriors. So, I formed a defensive position with the spear units in schiltrom formation. Behind them were the crossbowmen on the higher part of the hill, which made way for a clear angle from which to properly fire.

The first wave consisted of a single unit of crossbowmen, along with two primitive ballistae of old. As I saw this, I realized that you were never wrong in your statement of the Portuguese army being reduced to peasantry. However, I made an exception about what approached afterwards.

The first small and pitiful wave was quickly ran over by my horsemen. On the horizon however, was the second wave with King Paulo and his prince. My horsemen quickly ran back behind the lines of infantry on the hill, awaiting the second wave to come in full force.

In the front line of the second wave were white, barded horsemen, whom had exceptional training and were of course, the bodyguards of the two said nobles. Behind them were javelinmen on horses, and combined they were a dangerous force. My spearmen braced for the incoming charge that send incredible shock among them, and watched in horror at the sound of impaled flesh. However, the sheer number of militiamen that were there would prove useful as a barrier that could hold back my opponents.

The four units of horsemen that you gave were ones of professional quality, so as I waited for the spearmen to wear the bodyguards down, we swiftly rode past then behind them. Knowing that these horsemen could do God's work striking down the rear of the busy king and prince, I ordered my cavalry to gather around me into a giant stampede.

Soon, the bodyguards would be doomed as they were crushed by my horsemen after we charged into their rear, being closed in from all sides and could not struggle nor break free. Formation-wise, the Portuguese were utterly tangled in between Spanish troops and had no sense of unity, fighting for themselves as spears thrust into them and swords sliced them like fruit.

In the midst of the bloody combat, the Portuguese King raised up his sword, crying:

"Courage my brothers, Jesus Cristo will be with you and I, FOREVER!"

Christ wasn't with him for long, as a second after he fell off his horse from a bolt that split his cranium in two. I might've also recalled the prince raising his sword, but did so in hesitation, and before he could even open his mouth I saw another stray bolt knock him off his steed. The two were unfortunate, both meeting their maker within a few seconds of each other.

Some bodyguards were lucky to push through my men and run off, but soon they would see themselves captured. I was friendly enough to give them enough wine to make them disregard what would happen next, and to also forget what just happened before their eyes, as they essentially fell victim to peasantry that could've easily been squashed otherwise.

As the Portuguese forces were wiped out completely, the surviving men in my army walked on to the coastal city itself. I and my men marched in, seeing the city devoid of any garrison. We took enough time to feast our eyes on the riches and the curvature of the ripe females there, and so after you read this report, be sure to check the strongboxes sent to you. Look inside, and I promise that you will not walk away unimpressed.

A few days after we have taken Lisbon and stained the sea next to it red with the dead, the Spanish banner was now on every corner of it's walls. We sang songs, drank and ate. As promised, we have also constructed a 30 foot statue in your likeness within the city, so you will certainly not be unimpressed by that either.

Therefore, with the capture of Lisbon, everyone around the world and within your venerable kingdom can call you "Emperor of All Spain".

Yours, Captain Bernardo Era.

I closed the scroll, and soon my smirk would widen as I looked into the distance with pride. For many years, I have lived cheek to cheek with the men of Portugal, but having killed my former friend Affonso of whom was their king, I could now read this a hundred times and never be tired. This is true, as anybody who isn't Spanish truly cannot beat those who are.

Besides, if being Emperor of All Spain seems unambitious to some, I can assure anyone that someone in my dynasty can call themselves "Emperor of the World".

**NorseThing** · November 25, 2017, 07:58 PM

Late to comment, but comment I shall make. I also liked the voice of each chapter being tied to the character narrating. In addition, I did like the one bit a few posts back about the crown of the now dead King of France. Whether to place it on the grave or keep it as a trophy of the battle. The father did one thing and the son another but recognizing the difference. A good touch that was probably more often an issue for nobles that wanted the acclaim than for the ruling nobles. Of course the victors write the narrative and that usually means only writing about self sacrifice and not bragging about the obvious. Again, a nice touch.

**Alwyn** · November 26, 2017, 08:25 AM

Ah, an after-action report inside an After Action Report, that's a nice idea! I enjoyed the captain's report, particularly his initial level of confidence when facing the first wave of the enemy and seeing how his reaction to the enemy changes. I'm intrigued by the reference so 'someone in my dynasty' at the end.