Suenik Reloaded

[Bullfilter]

Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather and then tickled me to death with it! I never removed this gem from my watched list, and now this pops up!

And it was then, that the gods of CKII, clearly appeased by my return to the fold and my newfound piety, revealed something beautiful...

...my old Suenik games had saved to the cloud!

Huzzah! That’s an almost anti-Suenikan outcome! Unless it means you can return only to be tormented once more by the usual goings-on. I’m sure Dante had somewhere figured out for such a thing …

So, long story short - this isn't thread necromancy, I AM bringing back a VERY dusty ARR and hoping people might still want to read it.

Well, this one does, anyway. Welcome back.

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 28 - ORDER! ORDER!
(1186 - 1189)
​

Hello. I’m Duke Tachat of Suenik, but please bear with me - I’ve got a slight uprising problem on my hands.

You see, I’ve inherited a right old mess from my dear departed father. If you can believe it, he spent all his time and energy chasing the dream of immortality. Naturally, it was all quite nonsense, and he ended up dead. Disappointing as this was, his distraction with affairs of the soul meant that he completely neglected the care and feeding of the realm. Hence, I’ve been dealing with this sort of nonsense for the past few years.

To make matters worse, I’ve got my idiot of a brother making angry noises because I won’t have him on my council.

Thing is, I’m not even exaggerating here. My dear brother is a wonderful example of what happens when cousins spend generations marrying.

Yikers, right?

Still, my brother and his dribbling (literally in this case) is the least of his problems. My father left me with very little money and what few coins I managed to scrabble together is being spent funding mercenaries who will hopefully help bring the rebels to heel. It’s all terribly distressing.

Thankfully, they do the majority of the fighting and dying for me and after a couple of years I decide to dismiss what is left of them and carry on knocking their walls down with good, old fashioned Suenikian labour. I can’t help but feel that they are lazier than the eager-eyed mercs I’ve just let go.

Very soon, the leader of the revolt is very much regretting that she asked to speak to the manager of Suenik.

At last, we have peace! However, I’m still wildly on edge - I’ve literally spent my entire time as Duke fighting rebellions. I am a proud Suenikian - no matter what it takes I will defend my lands. Even if it means the spilling of blood, I would rather die before letting my ancestral estates slip from my grasp. The piles of bodies littering the countryside are testament to this.

It’s at this moment that Mayor Nerseh proves he’s terrible at reading a room.

Before I can give my “blood and soil” speech again (probably delivered slightly more shrilly and crazily eyed than previously) one of my jailers comes to see me, explaining that one of the prisoners is demanding to speak to the manager of the jail.

Seriously, Suenikian women are the worst... When I’ve finished personally watching her being flung into the oubliette I set about my plan for organising the kingdom properly.

That's the key - organisation. You see, my dear old father was never too up on how to structure a realm. Rather than putting a rigid hierarchy in place that allows for the seamless management of relationship between liege and overlord he was more interested in just…well…just holding onto most of his land and handing out a few small parcels to unreliable cronies when the mobs with pitchforks and torches outside of the castle got too loud.

Therefore, the first thing I do is create a new title.

Look at that, isn't it nice? It’s even got a lovely flying horse on it.

So why am I doing this? Well...

Before I can enact the next stage of my plan - which, I should add, requires saving up money which I don’t have - I get informed by my spy master that he has uncovered a dastardly plot, being run by an insidious mastermind - the implications of which could be dire. For some reason, he appears to have tears in his eyes whilst telling me this and, truth be told, is barely holding it together. I ask him what is going on, and he immediately bursts into gales of laughter and falls to the floor, banging it with his fists, kicking his legs and wheezing. When he has picked himself up and suitably composed himself, he reveals the identity of the culprit (although it takes a while, what with the intermittent sniggering and outbursts of laughter).

Yes, my poor, imbecilic brother who can barely feed himself is apparently conspiring against me. I tell my spy master to leave it alone - I’m almost intrigued to see what he’s planning.

Turns out - whatever it was - he was terrible at it, it backfires comically and he ends up as crow food.

I almost wish I'd been there to see it. I've got images of him trying to train a tiger, or doing something ridiculous with ropes and heavy weights. Anyway, There’s an old saying that you never truly appreciate someone until they’re gone. Well, this is very much the case here. Turns out, brother dearest was a collector of fine art.

Odd for a man who struggled with walking and breathing at the same time, and who was never allowed sharp cutlery, but it takes all kinds I guess.

We have a brief and touching funeral as befits a son of the Gardman-Agbhanias. Even though he was a dribbling, idiotic traitor planning high treason he WAS family. Therefore, I have the court sing a rousing chorus of “Armenia ’tis of Thee” before we hurl his body off the battlements into the river beneath. I grimace as I see it bounce off one of the walls before hitting the bank and rolling into the water with a dull splash. I'm pretty sure a nearby crocodile makes a beeline for this.

It’s what he would have wanted.

Right, so sad. Back to business.

Organisation is the key!

Remember the lovely shield with the flying horsie on it? Well, this is part of the master plan.

First things first, I do what my father should have done if he wasn’t busy running after old crones claiming that they could offer immorality.

That's right, I secure some immortality of my own by proclaiming Suenik a kingdom!

I then set about finding a suitably candidate amongst my many jailed landowners to become recipient of the Duchy of Pegasi or whatever it's called.

Let’s take a look at what I have to work with, shall we?

No, not this guy. He REALLY hates me. Plus, he’s clearly an idiot. What sort of clown favours war with someone who has a monicker like “The Terrible”? Usually said “Terrible” person has done something to earn that title - something that usually involves miles and miles of bodies - usually impaled - and burning landscapes. Generally it doesn't mean the person in question is "terrible" at war.

Idiot.

This guy, on the other hand, hates me less than the others. Plus, I can release him and everyone will think I’m the very epitome of fairness and justice!

Behold! The glorious kingdom of Suenik!

Wow - that felt good. Now children, has everyone settled down?

Good - let’s get down to business…

What has Tachat got planned? Can he bring glory to the kingdom? Has everything actually settled down? Find out in the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[Senior Chamoy]

Holy Necro! Bringing back such a dusty AAR from the death is ridiculous enough for me to want to read it all! Consider me subbed.

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 29 - HAVE YOU MET MY WIFE?
(1189 - 1191)​

Right - Suenik is now a kingdom. I, King Tachat I, have achieved that kind of immortal glory that my ancestors could only dream of!

First things first, now that everything seems to be in order I propose that...

Urgh. Excuse me. I feel awful. Thankfully, I have a trusted and knowledgable physician. He'll know what to do. He's Greek you know...

Small pox? Look, I'm not one to normally question supposed experts, but that seems really unlikely. There's not been an outbreak of any kind of disease here in Suenik forever, and certainly not something as serious as small pox! I even gave Stepanos all that money to build something he called a "hospital" which he assured me would "keep the angels of disease far from the holy land of Suenik".

Still, I'm pretty sure he knows what's the doing - he's Greek after all - so I trust to his judgement.

He prescribes me a poultice which he assures me will scare the small pox away.

I hold up a finger and go to question this, but he puts a finger to my lips and makes a "shussssh"ing sound.

Apparently this "is how diseases work" and I should "trust in him".

Trusting him - he is Greek after all - I smear the nasty smelling substance all over my face and get back to work. Feeling faintly ridiculous (and smelling even worse) I return to my council chambers, spread out my plans (they're in a thickly bound book with the words "Tachat's Plans For Suenik" spelt out in shells and glitter on the front) on the table before me. Now that I'm well again...

...I awaken to my wife yelling loudly about how lazy Armenian men are compared to Hungarian men. If her ranting is to be believed, apparently the Arpad man are extremely industrious compared to us good for nothing mountain dwelling primitives. I'm about to argue that I'm not Aremnian, I'm Suenikian but

a) I simply don't have the energy

and

b) she seems to be covered in blood which is terrifying.

Wait.

Covered in blood?

She narrows her eyes and assures me that in my feverish state I'm hallucinating. Before I can reply she's out the door yelling for Stepanos and also yelling for some maids to draw her a bath. She's so loud. It's painful. I'm sure a flock of birds take flight outside after she has to bellow for Stepanos a second time.

He takes one look at me (whilst nervously glancing over his shoulder to see if my wife appears) and assures me that my condition is nothing to be worried about.

I ask "What about the small pox?" He smiles nervously and said clearly the poultice scared it away.

Just like he'd promised. Therefore it must be something completely different that I'm suffering from this time and clearly not small pox which he correctly diagnosed and treated last time.

He laughs nervously again and wrings his hands, all the while glancing over his shoulder. He points at a letter opener I have lying on the table and remarks how beautiful it is and asks if it is silver?

I stare at him silently.

He takes a bag from behind his back and shakes it in my direction.

I'm pretty sure it's bulging.

And croaking for some reason.

Bags aren't meant to do that I'm sure.

He asks if I'd like to be cured of my food poisoning.

I give in and trust him - he is Greek after all.

One toad smoothie later and I'm back in the throne room.

Right.

Down to business.

As the newly minted kingdom of Suenik, the first thing we need to do...

Urgh.

You know, in the past - usually when out campaigning against the fifty or so rebellions that I inherited from my father (THANKS DAD!) - I've eaten some pretty horrendous food, and ended up feeling pretty ill as a result. However when you're out in the Armenian - sorry, SUENIKIAN - highlands, often the only thing you can find to chow down on are the small, burrowing rodents native to the area. However, sick as I have felt in the past from undercooked Gurgen stew, I've NEVER before felt this bad!

Feebly, I raise myself from my throne and whimper for Stepanos.

Apparently he's a physician.

He must be - I paid for his hospital.

A charlatan wouldn't need a hospital, right?

Also, he must be good - he is Greek after all.

A serving boy rushes off...and rushes back several minutes later shouting that Stepanos will be with me just after he has finished "sourcing remedies" from "the ponds behind the castle".

In the time it takes him to arrive, I've done a diagnosis of my own. I'm no renowned physician - and I'm pretty sure I'm not Greek - but by the way I'm shivering and the fact that one minute I'm hot as hell (and not in a good way) and the next I'm feel like I'm freezing to death leads me to one conclusion...

"Thankfully" for me, Stepanos eagerly bounds to my side with a bucket of toads and a smile on his face. As I am lying there cursing all the work that has yet to be done in Suenik I am barely aware of a noisome stench and Stepanos giving me the double thumbs up before making a "chef's kiss" gesture.

Eventually though, it passes. I am, after all, the first King of Suenik! I shall not be waylaid by something as trifling as disease! I like that - in fact, I make a point of mentioning it to most people I meet. They act like they are very impressed.

Artashes, my son and heir though, proves to be particularly receptive to my message. He pulls me aside and asks whether I think that the royal blood of Suenik truly does endow those whose veins it rushes through with an unnatural resistance to disease.

I raise an eyebrow.

He shifts nervously and wonders whether - in theory - if someone of Suenikian royal blood somehow, and completely accidentally, contracted something unpleasant and embarrassing, whether or not the blood would help him - or her obviously - overcome whatever was affecting them. I ask if there's anything I should be concerned about. He IS my ONLY son and heir after all.

He claims that he has recently felt "a bit poorly" and wondered if maybe it was something that he ate. Apparently there's a bad case of food poisoning going around.

"Maybe I should go and see Stepanos?" he asks.

I tell him not to bother, and to stay away from toads.

He flushes bright red and stammers "Father! I never did anything with toads..." but I hold up my hand and suggest that a nice brisk walk in the countryside, alongside my bodyguard, to deal with some Mongol visitors from the north might be just what he needs.

Begrudgingly he agrees.

I really hope that boy has been staying away from toads.

Over dinner with my wife - we're having goulash again, because that's what true conquerors and warriors eat apparently - I bring up the fact that I'm concerned about Artashes and his "feeling a bit poorly". Curiously, rather than saying something like "Hungarian men don't get ill like weak women" she instead gets uncharacteristically philosophical.

Now, I'm used to her being direct - after all, in Hungary apparently it's a sign of rudeness and, obviously, weakness not to be direct - but she comes straight out and advises me that dealing within Satan is the one true way to help our son.

Apparently Satan is not weak like Armenian men.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm as devout as your normal monosophyite, but I'm terrified for my dynasty. If Artashes dies, the Gardman-Agbhania line could come to an abrupt - and pox ridden - end! My wife is well past child bearing age, and I am not brave enough to try and divorce her. Yes, a few of you are probably thinking I could try trapping her in some kind of weird "It is weak not to ask for divorce..." logic loop but, trust me, there are somethings you don't know about my wife yet that make this impossible.

It's one of the reasons I'm eating my rare steak goulash and not complaining. Also I'm pretty sure that's not beef we're eating.

Anyway - I need a way save Artashes, and this seems like the only way out.

I agree.

Reluctantly.

She smiles, in that terrifying way of hers, and assures me that they will be in touch.

I daren't ask who "they" are. They probably ride giant toads, and come to your door canvassing for money to build ineffectual hospitals staffed by Greek charlatans.

Hmm.

That actually sounds just like what They would do...

All this talk of Satan and sexually transmitted disease out of the way, she abruptly switches and asks me if anything interesting happened at court. I poke at my rubbery goulash with my fork and assure her it was all just business as usual.

A few days later my wife's messenger arrives. She is NOT what I had been expecting! There are certainly no toads in sight.

Now, while I am desperate to save my son, I'm really not too keen on having it public knowledge that I'm consorting with Satan and all his little wizards. Whilst other people are more cavalier in their attitude to serving the dark foes of creation, I'm more cautious than your standard "Sure, just whack a few pentagrams up on the wall over there and stick your sacrificial altar in the corner of the throne room. Try not to get the goats blood and seaman on the floor" guy.

Therefore, I suggest we take this somewhere more private.

She seems to love this suggestion, and before I know what I'm doing, we're in the royal bedchambers. Oh, and it appears we have company. Wonderful start to my covert career as a cultist. Although, whilst I am no expert in the dark arts, I'm pretty sure the black, cowled robes, silver jewellery emblazoned with all kinds of occult symbols and the ominous chanting means that I can be fairly certain that these guys are in on what's going down.

That, or they're Catholics.

Pretty sure that's the same thing.

Being the astute man of state that I am, I decide to use my best kingly voice (which is pretty difficult when Gunnes is looking at me like THAT!) and suggest we get this contract signed or whatever needs to be done as quickly as possible. Gunnes smiles, winks and drops her robe.

Oh.

She beckons me over and explains that "signing the contract" is going to much easier - and much more fun - that I probably first imagined.

Pretty easy choice, huh? Putting aside the chanting, hooded weirdos for a second; soft candlelight and a beautiful woman seems like a pretty sweet deal - especially if sealing it (so to speak) means that I get to save my son.

However, remember earlier I was talking about how there were things about my wife that you didn't know?

Yeah. This is NOT an easy decision...

What decision will Tachat make? Will it be easy? Will it be hard (the decision, obviously, you filthy minded beggars!)? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[Senior Chamoy]

I couldn't wait to read the older chapters first, had to read the newest one. I gotta say, I love the humor. Our dear King amidst his diseased state seemed to have forgotten he is not Armenian, but Suenikian though: "Apparently Satan is not weak like Armenian men." Suenikians might not be Hungarians, but at least they aren't Greek.

Edit: Now that I think about it, your humor reminds me of an old, old, Ethiopian AAR from back in the day. I'm talking like 2012-13 old. Good stuff.

 

[iain_a_wilson]

I couldn't wait to read the older chapters first, had to read the newest one. I gotta say, I love the humor. Our dear King amidst his diseased state seemed to have forgotten he is not Armenian, but Suenikian though: "Apparently Satan is not weak like Armenian men." Suenikians might not be Hungarians, but at least they aren't Greek.

Edit: Now that I think about it, your humor reminds me of an old, old, Ethiopian AAR from back in the day. I'm talking like 2012-13 old. Good stuff.

I'm glad you're enjoying it. I enjoy writing silly AARs, so as long as there are folks who appreciate this kind of nonsense I'll continue churning it out!

As for poor old Tachat's confusion he's got the added difficulties of a) only having had "Suenikian men" be something for the last five minutes b) a terrifying wife who could shift into a massive seven foot furry monster at any given moment and c) been through THREE SEPARATE DISEASES (because Stepanos NEVER misdiagnoses - haven't you heard, he's Greek....

As for the age of the humour, my original Suenik AAR was written back in 2009, and it was inspired by an even older Nubian AAR. That original AAR actually ran to completion, and it came off the back of me saying "Hey - can someone suggest a nation that would be difficult to play?" It was generally well received and won a bunch of rewards, AND it has an index, so if you want a complete comedy AAR to review and don't want to read pages and pages of comments, this might work for you. It's essentially the same nonsense as I'm posting above . Oh, but it IS missing it's first entry because I was a clown and deleted it when I pasted over it with an index...

 

[El Pip]

I had not expected to see this return, but I am delighted that it has and with such a dramatic bang of two rapid updates.

I like the fact that Tachat's wife has such an unpronounceable name that there is actually a ½ sign in there, though doubtless she would say that Hungarian men can pronounce it easily unlike weak Armenian men. Though can one really trust a possessed werewolf on this matter?

Satan and all his little wizards was a nice reference and I continue to love the tone, style and humour of the adventures. I do not envy Tachat his choice, though this being Suenik it will probably go wrong for him either way - like getting three diseases in a row as God's punishment for daring to create a Kingdom.

 

[Vesimir]

Since the AAR is back on track I might as well catch up on it. It's been a long time since I read one.

 

[iain_a_wilson]

Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather and then tickled me to death with it! I never removed this gem from my watched list, and now this pops up!

Huzzah! That’s an almost anti-Suenikan outcome! Unless it means you can return only to be tormented once more by the usual goings-on. I’m sure Dante had somewhere figured out for such a thing …

Well, this one does, anyway. Welcome back.

I am so glad to have you back as a reader, and I'm very flattered that it was still on your watch list! Hopefully the wait was worth it...

I had not expected to see this return, but I am delighted that it has and with such a dramatic bang of two rapid updates.

I like the fact that Tachat's wife has such an unpronounceable name that there is actually a ½ sign in there, though doubtless she would say that Hungarian men can pronounce it easily unlike weak Armenian men. Though can one really trust a possessed werewolf on this matter?

Satan and all his little wizards was a nice reference and I continue to love the tone, style and humour of the adventures. I do not envy Tachat his choice, though this being Suenik it will probably go wrong for him either way - like getting three diseases in a row as God's punishment for daring to create a Kingdom.

I'm glad you're enjoying it - and got the "little wizards" reference - and I'm glad the tone is still to your liking. Faintly ridiculous is all I have in my locker I'm afraid! Thanks for sticking with this!

Since the AAR is back on track I might as well catch up on it. It's been a long time since I read one.

Thank you very much for coming back to give this nonsense another try! It's always great having good commentatAARs!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 30 - THAT WAS AN ABRUBT TRANSITION
(1191 - 1197)​

I have to say - even by Suenikian standards, today has been an odd one. There I was, out in the field bravely leading my lads against the marauding Mongol raiders, and looking forward to an evening of feasting and revelry, when I receive a messenger urging me back to the castle post-haste.

I'm not quite sure what they mean by "post-haste", but they are wearing my father's colours, so it must be important. Before I leave I make sure to ride to the front of my host, raise my spear in the air, have my stallion rear dramatically before yelling "SUENIK - FOREVER!" at the top of my lungs.

The resultant cheer is deafening and the poor messenger starts in fear. I laugh heartily and sweep him onto the back of my horse before charging full pelt for the castle.

Oh, I'm Artashes by the way; crown prince of Suenik. Faithful heir to the kingdom. And no, I'm not one of these scheming older sons who wants his father out of the way so he can take the reigns of power. The only reigns I want to hold at the moment are those of my trusty charger, Toros, as I ride into combat and bravely take on the enemies of the kingdom. I'm happy to patiently wait my turn. My father is a wise and just ruler, who makes great decisions for all of his subjects. I have so much to learn from him because, to be honest, sometimes I find a lot of this statecraft stuff difficult.

Good job the old fella, still has years left in him. Imagine the problems the kingdom would face if someone completely unprepared for rulership took over.

Oops.

It appears that I've been saying all of this out loud, and for some reason the messenger is whimpering.

Poor lad - it's probably the first time he's ridden full-pelt on a warhorse through the Suenikian highlands. I reach over and slap him on the back. He yelps and I'm pretty sure I hear something crack. I laugh heartily and yell "GOOD MAN!" Not to worry, events like this are character building - makes men of boys.

We stampede into the castle courtyard and I dismount in a single bound before striding up to the double doors of the keep and throwing them open dramatically. My cape billows heroically behind me and I plant both hands on my hips before bellowing "FAAAAAAATHER! YOUR SON HAS RETURNED."

I pause.

"HE HAS RETURNED. VICTORIOUS!"

A couple of handmaidens scurry past me. I tip one of them a wink, she flushes crimson and runs off giggling with her friends.

Wenches. What are you going to do, am I right fellow soldiers?

Behind me, my cape has stopped billowing, but I can hear the noise of my stallion, Toros, heroically vaulting into his stable. I can also hear the noise of the messenger being not-so-heroically deposited into Toros' trough. Ha! Events like this are character building.

Curiously, I've been standing here for a few moments - framed magnificently by the doors I may add - and my father hasn't appeared to shower laurels upon me for vanquishing the foe. Annoyed I venture into the keep and head towards the royal quarters. Up ahead, I'm pretty sure I can hear a combination of sobbing, weeping and someone yelling in Greek.

It's coming from the royal bedchambers.

I take the stairs two at a time, skid dramatically on the landing and race to entrance to my father's room, from whence the noise is coming from. A single kick sends the door flying open and, with a single movement, I bound in, sword drawn, ready for anything.

There is a strangled yelp from behind the door, and the noise of some slowly sliding down the wall. If that was some kind of saracen assassin they're in a lot of trouble. The limp arm the thuds onto the floor clad in the cerulean blue of Suenik suggests that maybe this was actually a servant.

Ignoring the whimpering coming from behind the door, I take in the chamber. The room itself is a mess. There are candles everywhere, and the rich rug on the floor is slowly turning crimson from a rapidly spreading pool of blood. Lying in the centre of this, a slightly surprised look on his face, is my father. A spear juts from his chest. Crouched over him, sobbing, is Stepanos, who - mid sob - appears to be yelling in Greek to his apprentice, a young man who is furiously whacking a series of bags on the floor next to him, some of which are still moving and croaking.

Most aren't.

Occasionally, Stepanos reaches into one of the non-moving bags, grabs a handful of green, slimy stuff, and smears it over my father's chest.

Seeing me, he springs to his feet, brushes his hair backwards, and bows.

Some....juice(?) drips from his hair onto the floor. I indicate that he should stand, and jab my sword in the direction of my father.

"Well?"

Stepanos stifles back a sob.

"I did everything I could your majesty..."

I look down at my father and back at Stepanos. He falls to his knees and grabs my ankles, whimpering.

"I tried my lord, I tried... But... He had dysentery. There was nothing I could do."

I glance at the corpse, the blood and the spear. I glance back at the physician's apprentice, the bags, the hammers and the sobbing man at my feet.

"Dysentery, huh?"

Stepanos, still hugging my ankles, nods and sobs.

Seems legit.

I tell them to clean up the old boy as best they can, slap the apprentice on the back and yell "GOOD MAN". He face plants in some toad juice. I laugh heartily and hold back the crushing, crippling fear gnawing away inside me - I've got a coronation to organise!

Now, don't let any rumours you've heard about me put you off - I'm a REALLY nice guy, and I think I'm going to be perfect to run the show here in Suenik. It's just that sometimes I'm a little bit slower on the uptake than other people. But with all the great advisors around me I'll be fine.

Maybe.

Anyway, the coronation is a great success, and afterwards my dear mother - she of the unpronounceable name - lopes over to me (I wonder how she does that?) and asks me to help her out. It seems that "Armenian people are fools who can't pronounce good Hungarian names" so she asks me to award her a name more fitting so that people stop offending her.

Knowing what a gentle, upstanding model of feminine womanhood my mother is, I award her a title the befits her warm and peaceful nature.

She howls with delight and runs off.

Curious.

She's a great mum though - just prior to the coronation she commissioned a brand new, pure gold, crown! Apparently the old silver one was not to her taste as she told me "she couldn't bear to be around it".

A few months later, as I'm sitting in a council of state and trying to understanding what the hell is going on and wishing I was out in the saddle, a messenger arrives from the Silk Road with news from China.

I laugh, and dismiss him with a wave of a hand. China? Mongols? What do we have to worry about them in Suenik? China and the Mongols are MILES away. Weird, my council are glancing nervously at each other, but when I ask what is wrong they all smile and commend me on my wisdom. I laugh heartily, thump the table and yell "MORE ALE!"

I think I'm getting this hang of this kingly gig!

A few months later I'm in my chamber when I hear the blare of horns and the galloping of horses.

"TO ARMS!" I scream and draw my blade whilst backhanding my squire out of the window. As he screams and frantically hangs onto the ledge, he yells that we're not at war - instead the noise I heard was some of my vassals having some "healthy completion" with each other.

I sigh, sheath my sword, and haul him back in through the window with one arm. He's shaking and oddly damp. I clap him on the back, laugh heartily and yell "GOOD MAN!" He whimpers slightly. Events like this are character building.

Seeing as how I can't take to the battlefield - something about "responsibility for the dynasty" according to my chancellor - I spend the time with my fox of a wife and - lo and behold - I do my bit for the kingdom!

Now, I'm obviously going to be happy with whatever offspring she calves, but it bloody better by a boy.

Months pass and - yay - it's a girl.

Obviously I'll love her almost as much as first born girl child (or whatever my wife called her), but I order my wife to prepare for round 2 as "third time's the charm". I shoot finger guns at her and wink before laughing heartily, yelling "MORE ALE!" and striding out of the bedchamber.

She's so overcome with lust I hear her burst into tears.

I saunter into my council chamber to roar news of my fertility to my councillors, when I see that the messenger from the Silk Road has returned.

A special interest eh? Oddly enough my chancellor and spymaster seem worried about this - they are debating whether this means "curious about Christians" or "a special interest in conquering and subjugating Christians". I put my arms around their shoulders, laugh heartily and tell them that they have nothing to worry about - China is VERY FAR AWAY. My spymaster goes to protest, but I simply clap him heartily on the back, laugh uproariously and yell "LET US FEAST!"

A few months later and my Patriarch comes to me with his begging bowl in hand, explaining that he's found someone really wise and clever and blah blah blah words words words and...

I put a finger to his lips and ask him whether he needs money. He nods mutely. I assure him he will have it, clap him heartily on the back and yell "GOOD MAN!"

I didn't realise he was so feeble, as he pinwheels into a table a slides down the other side onto the floor.

I yell "GOOD MAN!" and he shakily gives me a thumbs up from the floor.

Events like this are character building.

Months pass...

I

AM

SO

BORED

Then!

A young kinsman of mine arrives in my court, resplendent in a brand new suit of mail and dramatically kneels before me and pledges his services as a war leader. His mentor, a grizzled old sergeant, gives me a thumbs up and makes an "Ok" symbol with his hands.

Damn. But this lad is everything a war should be. Tall, lean and...those shoulders...

I cough, laugh heartily, punch young Nersch in the face and proceed to wrestle him to the floor. After getting him in a choke hold and having him tap out three times, I haul him to his feet, slap him on the back and yell "GOOD MAN!" At that beautiful, opportune movement a breathless messenger rushes in and yells that Cuman raiders have crossed our border.

"YESSSSSS!" I roar, before dragging a slightly dazed Nersch from the throne room whilst yelling "ASSEMBLE MY RETINUE! SADDLE OUR HORSES! WE RIDE AT DAWN!"

Nersch is a bit of a spoilsport and points out that it's almost midday but he's young - he'll learn the value of dramatic entrances and exists as he gets older.

A few weeks later and the battle is disappointingly brief.

None the less, I make a triumphant return to the capital. After leaping from the back of Toros, I stride into the keep, throwing off my armour and yelling "WHERE IS MY WOMAN? YOUR MIGHTY HERO HAS RETURNED SWEATY FROM BATTLE AND WITH THE LUSTS OF A LION!"

The next few months pass slowly.

There are no battles.

There is Hovhannes asking for money to help with philosophers (whatever they might be).

But then, glory of glories, my beautiful, handsome, mighty son is born.

My first born.

My heir.

Suenik's future.

I do him the ultimate honour.

I name him after my horse.

All is good. I order a summer fare for the peasants and a winter feast for my nobles. The birth of the young prince is celebrated all across the land.

One of my nobles is so delighted at the royal birth that he vows to carve out some new territory for the kingdom.

I stifle a manly tear, embrace Ishkhan, and tell him I want to fight by his side. He shakes his head and says this duty - and this honour - is his alone. It is his gift to Prince Toros and he will deliver it or die in attempt. I caress his cheek - his rough, manly cheek - and solemnly whisper "Good man".

Ishkhan nods, turns - cape billowing - and strides from the room, his captains falling into perfect synch beside him. He raises one arm in the air and yells "ALE FOR MY MEN! WE RIDE AT DAWN!"

My Lord he's a fine figure of a man.

Nersch goes to say something, but his old sergeant makes a "zip it" gesture and the young man instead jumps up and down and claps in a somewhat over enthusiastic manner.

I eagerly await reports from the front so, when a messenger hurries into my chamber I almost floor him with my yell of "WELL???"

His message is not what I was expecting.

20

That... I KNEW he was trying to swindle me with...with...with his WORDS! His big, stupid WORDS! I bellow at my spymaster to have Hovhannes arrested but it's too late - he choose to face me in battle.

21

OH!

HELL!

YES!

SADDLE THE HORSES! WE RIDE AT DAWN!

Whilst I wish I could be at the front with Ishkhan, this is almost as good. We surround the Patriarch's palace and prepare for the assault when I notice a harried messenger tearing towards us.

He dismounts with grace and strides towards me.

See? These events ARE character building...

When he reaches us, he falls to his knees and thrusts a scroll into my hands.

Hmm. What's that crest? I always was a bit rubbish at heraldry. Nersch takes one look at it and goes an odd shade of pale.

Has Patriarch Hovhannes got off the hook? Can Suenik stand against the Mongol hordes? Will Artashes get his wishes of a properly destructive war? Find out in the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[diskoerekto]

DoWs like this by 100k cavalry armies are character building! GOOD MAN!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 31 - INTO THE BREACH
(1197)​

My men stare at me in shocked silence.

War has come to Suenik.

This isn't some foray by a band of raiders, or one of the ten-a-penny petty rebellions that spring up from time to time.

No.

This is the real deal.

The Mongols are here.

My people have heard tales of the Mongols.

Of their savagery, of their relentlessness, of how they are unbeatable.

They are scared.

Therefore, when I heft my spear, point it at the palace of rebellious Patriarch Hovhannes and roar "LET'S DEAL WITH THE TRAITOR FIRST AND THEN ONTO THE MONGOLS!" it catches them by surprise.

There's silence, then some murmuring and then a throaty cheer that shakes the very land around us.

Ok, so I may have exaggerated the last point but, by God, it was inspiring!

No, *I* was inspiring!

As I lead my men racing towards the gate, Patriarch Hovhannes can be seen frantically jumping around on the battlements, gesticulating towards the north and yelling "THE MONGOLS ARE OVER THERE! THE MONGOLS ARE OVER THERE! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Ha.

Fat chance, traitor.

It is over quickly.

There are no survivors.

Save for Hovhannes...

When my men drag him from his chambers I laugh uproariously and gesture grandly.

"HA HA! TO THE JAIL WITH HIM!"

I also never realised till I'm looking through the wreck of his palace how aptly named his territory was...

Meanwhile, Johnny Mongol prove that he doesn't mess around when it comes to conquering.

I'm still mustering my host and they've taken how much territory???? These boys are fast! I wonder what I can do to slow down the advance. My spymaster sagely advises me that the best strategy is one that delivers victory without fighting.

I look at him blankly. I love fighting. That doesn't sound like any kind of victory I'd enjoy.

He looks from side to side before whispering that if the head of the snake is cut off it will cease to bite. He makes a little throttling gesture with his hands.

I don't know why we're suddenly onto venomous reptiles. I hate snakes. And of course it won't bite if it's head's cut off.

He winks and says that when the crowing cock is silenced, the whole farmyard will stay at rest.

And now we're talking about the peasants - it's not them that's invading Suenik. Before he can carry on with his jibber-jabber I slap him on the back and yell "SPIT IT OUT MAN!"

He chokes slightly and asks if I would like the Khagan killed. I look surprised. Of course I would! That's the whole reason we're going to have a battle! He rolls his eyes, shakes his head and points out that the Khagan is probably not going to be leading his armies into Suenik, but if he were to possibly have an "unfortunate accident" this whole war might lose its momentum.

I put an arm around his shoulder and talk slowly, like I would to a dull child. I point out that it's all well and good WISHING for unfortunate accidents, but wishing never won anyone a battle. Sometimes you just have to be a man and decide these things on the field of battle.

I thump my chest for emphasis.

Irritated, he wriggles free of my grip and asks whether or not I would like HIM to have the Khagan of the Mongols killed. He's heard that the man is universally despised in his court and that it would be an easy task to find malcontents willing to do the job. It follows that if the Khagan dies, the war may fizzle and die.

Odd - he's using the same "slow voice" that I was using when I talked to him.

Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery I've been told.

None the less, I'm torn. On one hand, what my spymaster says seems like a really good idea. It COULD end the war and save thousands of lives. On the other hand, I - and my men I'm sure - REALLY want a good fight. Plus, poison or whatever is a woman's weapon and there's no honour there.

I can't decide.

Rather than annoy my spy master (because I can do without checking my bed for vipers every evening) and not wanting to lose face in front of my men, I do what any good leader would do.

I yell "HA HA!", clap my spymaster on a the back and bellow "GOOD MAN!" before striding off into the Patriarch's palace, gesticulating wildly and demanding "ALE FOR MY CONQUERING HEROES!"

Pretty sure that was some top tier leadership right there.

A few days later I get some good news and some bad news.

Well, on one hand the fact that the Khagan is dead is greeted with great rejoicing. On the other hand, people are calling me a murderer!

ARGH! This is why I wanted a stand up fight! I'm NOT a murderer. I'm a man of honour and daring!

It also seems to have done nothing to discourage the Mongols. In fact, if anything they're raping and pillaging with slightly more enthusiasm. Guys - you were ALL in on this! Don't make it about me!

That does it.

I tell my spymaster I'm done with his dishonourable solutions. Instead, I yell at my steward to break open the coffers. We're going to hire some brothers in arms to help us in our time of need.

Hopefully the war will be over before the treasury runs dry and my new allies decide to start impersonating the Mongols...

Spoiler: Music for Artashes current mood

A few weeks later, my host is assembled and our mercenary comrades have arrived. I mount Toros, and ride to the head of my army. I take a moment to review the might of Suenik, arrayed for war as never before. Thousands of soldiers - ready to give their lives for the motherland - their banners fluttering in the breeze. Men, from the lowest peasant levy armed only with his hunting spear and some courage, to the Dukes of Suenik, resplendent in their shining mail, all with the same steely resolve that says "This is my land, and you are not welcome." Mighty warhorses, the finest in the royal stables, standing proudly - majestically - ready to trample the invaders underfoot.

It is glorious.

I look up at the battlements of my castle and see my wife, children and courtiers gazing down at us, an expectant look in their eyes.

"Save us from these monsters" those looks say.

"Come back safely" they whisper.

"Bring us glory and honour" they implore.

I draw my sword and raise it over my head.

The sun catches it brilliantly.

I smile my most brilliant smile and roar "SUENIK - FOREVER!"

My army goes MENTAL! They're screaming war cries till they're red in the face, clanging weapons against shields and chanting my name!

I'm pretty sure a couple of the womenfolk up on the balcony fall into a swoon. My wife screams "I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!!!!" One of her handmaidens yells "SO DO I!!!!!"

The peasants are jumping up and down, cheering and crying.

Toros rears up dramatically and I point my sword northwards.

"WE RIDE TO SEMENDER - AND VICTORY!"

I dig in my spurs, and we're off.

This is fucking BRILLIANT.

With the wind in my hair and my host at my back we charge northwards.

Mongols - I'm coming for you.

Will things continue to be brilliant? Does Suenik stand a chance against the Mongols? How many babies are going to be named Artashes? Find out in the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 32 - THE TIDES OF WAR
(1197-1201)​

The battle is glorious!

My armies sweep in like a host of avenging angels, and we slam into the enemy before they can withdraw.

By God, but they fight ferociously - we out number them almost two to one, but they stand their ground and give as good at they get. However, as the screams of the dying and the clash of steel fill the air I can taste their resolve waiver.

As they disappear over the plains, I punch the air with both fists and yell "SUENIK - FOREVER!"

My men roar their approval, but Nersch taps my shoulder and indicates nervously to the massive clouds of dust building on the horizon. A seasonal storm perhaps?

Ah.

That was what? Just a vanguard?

I am a wise general though - the plains of Suenik are no place to fight a cavalry army. Quickly, I urge my commanders and my men to fall back to their highlands. The advantages that the invaders' steeds give them will be of less import there.

Unfortunately, being on steeds means that they are faster than us and we are caught before we can escape.

This time, it is us that are outnumbered. Time and time again they assault our lines, and although we hold, each time the losses inflicted are heinous. Eventually Nersch - beautiful, young, manly Nersch - goes down, an arrow from a horse archer buried in his eye. I fall to my knees, cast me sword aside, tear off my helmet dramatically and yell "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" to the sky!

I have to be hauled from the battlefield by my remaining commanders. They bundle me onto Toros as I rant and rave, screaming challenges to any enemy commanders who may hear.

None answer.

Within weeks it is clear that the war - so glorious at its outset - is a lost cause.

However, rather than painful, humiliating subjugation, the Khagan seems content with only having sliced off a small part of the realm.

5

None the less, I am sickened to my core. I - a warrior of brave Suenik - have lost a war.

I have failed my people.

Curiously, my people don't see it that way.

In fact, as we tramp our way back towards the capital we are treated to people cheering in the streets, throwing flowers at us and chanting my name.

At first, I assume that this is just the common folk, with little understanding of the noble art of war, but as we get closer to home I can see members of the nobility and clergy joining them.

It's like we WON the war...

My chancellor explains this to me - people in Suenik have such low expectations, such little self-respect, such pathetic moral fibre that anything that isn't complete and utter annihilation is seen as being a keen bedfellow of glorious victory.

By the time we're back at my castle there are veritable street parties going on. Apparently I'm being lauded as the saviour of Christendom for standing up to the Mongols.

Back at court I'm lauded, and feted and...well, let's just say that my ancestors have clearly set a pretty low bar for what the ladies in Suenik consider a conquering hero to be.

6

None the less, with the flower of Suenikian nobility - especially brave, beautiful, young, manly Nersch - annihilated in the war, I take a leaf out of my father's book. When you want something done properly, what do you do?

That's right - you outsource to the Greeks! My new military leaders will help me rebuild my shattered forces. Foes of Suenik, BEWARE!

Of course, what my father didn't tell me about the Greeks was that they are VERY preachy...

This happens a LOT over the following years.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Seriously, this was RELENTLESS. I gave up taking screen captures every time it appeared! Just assume that every other event in this tale is punctuated by someone running to me and saying "Some Greek is trying to make me Orthodox!")

It also turns out that my new found popularity with the ladies isn't without problems of its own.

What? It only stands to reason that the saviour of Christian Armenia (as I believe I'm being called) is a walking, talking mountain of fertility. I do, however, make a point of meeting Lousin's husband - Manuel - a couple of times and commending him on his manliness. He seemed surprised by this, but what's surprising about your sovereign walking in on you as you're getting changed, grabbing your bicep, nodding approvingly, slapping you on the backside and yelling "GOOD MAN!" Before walking out?

Perfectly natural.

Great biceps too.

Anyway...

Turns out that as the months pass my kingdom is still riven by civil war. Or rather, Duchess Anna is still fighting off her vessel Arsen, who is claiming that she's a pain in the arse and he should be in charge.

To be honest, Anna IS a bit annoying. Ever since I've got back, she's been harping on about claiming some land that's "rightfully hers".

However, my darling wife has put a ban on me going off to war, so I'm damn well not going to let my vassals have that sort of fun if I can't.

My wife is creating a ticking time bomb though - what am I going to do with all this manly energy if I can't fight the enemies of Suenik? Turns out that this question clearly has answers of its own...

I make a point of attend the Christening, hugging Manuel, pointing at the baby, grinning, pointing back at Manuel and yelling "GOOD MAN!" A cunning ruse, I'm sure you'll agree...

However, I can't be seen littering the countryside with bastards, so instead I hit upon the genius idea of having my own mini-war-that-isn't-really-a-war.

Unfortunately, I married my wife for her brains and she points out that there's no way that I'm allowed to enter. My subjects - many of who were planning to enter - seem to agree with her and offer lots of platitudes about how none would be worthy to compete against the Saviour of Christen Armenia.

Hmph.

Instead, I'm reduced to listening to the prattling of merchants from Italy... I give them what they're after and send them on their way. Why must I spend my time with nobodies?

Years pass. Things continue in Suenik as they always have.

I am SO bored. Rather than sit around the castle being glared at by wife every time I so much as look at a sword, or wondering how Manuel is getting on, I pick up my spear any angrily declare that if I can't battle the enemies of Suenik, I announce that I'm going off to take out my frustration on all creatures great and small.

When I say this my wife raises an eyebrow and says "We are talking about hunting here, aren't we darling?"

After a few weeks of this, I'm still bored. Hunting dumb animals is not anywhere near as much fun as fighting actual real life soldiers. There's no strategy, no honour, no manly camaraderie, no nights spent under the stars with your brothers in arms and no glory. However, as I'm sitting in my council chamber listening to my chancellor drone on and on about something called "international relations" something he says causes my ears to prick up. Apparently, our neighbours, the Cumins, have got into a tussle with some Byzantine counts.

I wonder...

Standing up, I grin and applaud my chancellor. He looks surprised and I yell "ALE FOR MY COUNCILLORS!" before slapping him on the back, laughing heartily and striding from the chamber. I can hear my spy master telling the servants that he doesn't like ale and could he have a nice Armenian Pomegranate wine.

Armenian pomegranate wine? I didn't even know we did that. It sounds pretty nice.

Mid stride, I remember something, turn around, march back up to my chancellor, grab his head in both hands and kiss his forehead. I give one more laugh for good measure, bellow "GOOD MAN!" and stride out again.

Sometime later I poke my head around the door of the royal living quarters, and inform my wife that I'm off on a grand hunt with some friends. She remarks that this is fine, but that if she finds another skinned deer "draining" in her bath she's going to commission the royal architects to build a separate royal bed chamber. I grin, blow her a kiss and leave.

I stride out into the training grounds. The sun is beating down and it causes the arms and armour of the several thousand "friends" I'm taking hunting to gleam gloriously. As I swing myself up onto Toros I allow myself a smug smile of satisfaction. What I didn't tell my wife was WHERE I was going hunting or for WHAT...

Will the "hunt" be successful? Will Artashes' wife be annoyed? Will the second royal bed chamber be built? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[diskoerekto]

It'll be so crazy when he pulls this off with this swagger!

That was so funny when they managed to kill the Khagan of the Mongols but still the war waged on lol maybe they can keep on killing the leaders until there's a civil war during succession

EDIT: ooooh another episode, in which we lose 2 3rds of the army in one go but still end up happy and victorious?

GOOD MAN!

 

[Riotkiller]

What a delightful resurrection!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

EDIT: ooooh another episode, in which we lose 2 3rds of the army in one go but still end up happy and victorious?

GOOD MAN!

Yeah. It’s one of the reasons I love CK. I was expecting doom and gloom and I got one of those “Your leadership is just the best” type of events. That’s Suenik for you.

What a delightful resurrection!

Thank you very much. I’m glad you’re enjoying the necromancy. I have to say, I’d forgotten what an amazingly fun and inadvertently hilarious game that CK is. It truly is the gift that keeps on giving!

 

[Bullfilter]

Comments on the first few new chapters:

My dear brother is a wonderful example of what happens when cousins spend generations marrying.

Oh dear. That really is tragically bad.

Very soon, the leader of the revolt is very much regretting that she asked to speak to the manager of Suenik.

Your own Karen!

Yes, my poor, imbecilic brother who can barely feed himself is apparently conspiring against me. I tell my spy master to leave it alone - I’m almost intrigued to see what he’s planning.

<facepalms>

old crones claiming that they could offer immorality.

That sounds even worse than the Satanists!

Behold! The glorious kingdom of Suenik!

Congratulations - I think.

Still, I'm pretty sure he knows what's the doing - he's Greek after all - so I trust to his judgement.

Ah. Right then. I’m surprised the new king emerged with his face intact.

a noisome stench and Stepanos giving me the double thumbs up before making a "chef's kiss" gesture.

He shifts nervously and wonders whether - in theory - if someone of Suenikian royal blood somehow, and completely accidentally, contracted something unpleasant and embarrassing, whether or not the blood would help him - or her obviously - overcome whatever was affecting them.

The Suenikian spotted trouser snake - how embarrassing.

she comes straight out and advises me that dealing within Satan is the one true way to help our son.

Here we go …

She beckons me over and explains that "signing the contract" is going to much easier - and much more fun - that I probably first imagined.

… signing with a pen is what happened next?

However, remember earlier I was talking about how there were things about my wife that you didn't know?

Eek! Not to be messed with. Joining the Satanists may be the best defence here. And whatever the decision or its consequences, they will doubtless be entirely in keeping with Suenik’s zeitgeist.

 

[diskoerekto]

What a delightful resurrection!

you know I expect one from you as well

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 33 - THE HUNTING TRIP
(1201-1206)​

My hunting trip has begun!

We tear into the king of Cuminia's capital province, ready for a long drawn-out siege.

Ah - a siege.

The creak of the trebuchet, the smack of bloody-huge-boulder-on-wall, the screaming of arrows...it's like music to my ears...

...and over in a disappointingly short space of time. Seems that the "king" of Cumin lives in a small collection of huts surrounded by fields in which graze herds of irate looking horses. I swear one is staring at me sideways as we dismantle the siege engines.

However, every the inspiring leader, I manage a "HAHA!" and "SADDLE YOUR HORSES! WE RIDE NORTH - AND TO VICTORY!"

Lots of cheers.

Well, cheers from those on horseback - the infantry aren't exactly relishing a long slog through the mountains to the barren steppes north of Suenik.

Still, we make good time, and soon his provinces are falling like dominoes...

...mainly because there's not a lot there to besiege. However, a few weeks in a great horde of shrieking horsemen descend on our siege camp. At last! A proper fight! I spur my retinue into the fray and the infantry scrabble to keep up.

When I see who is at the head of the army my heart skips a beat in excitement. It's the King of the Cumins himself - a feared and terrible warrior - along with his son!

At last!

A PROPER battle!

At my signal my archers unleash a devastating series of volleys before I lead the charge across the plains of Magas, bellowing "SUENIK - FOREVER!" as me and my men close with the opposition.

My blood is boiling and my heart racing.

This.

Is.

BLOODY.

BRILLIANT!!!!

All around me is the maelstrom of war. Screams, battle cries, shouted orders - a beautiful rhapsody of martial glory. Therefore, I am somewhat perturbed when, during a brief lull in the fighting, as I am in my tent discussing the final push with my generals, a breathless messenger rushes in and presents me with an urgent missive. My first thought is "Oh dear - the wife has sussed out that I'm not actually off hunting..."

Oh great - so now the Catholics are getting in on the "Have you got two minutes for me to tell you the good news?" act. It was bad enough when it was just the Greeks! I dismiss the messenger and, with renewed vigour, mount Toros to lead the final charge.

My men cheer mightily as the King of Cuminia and his brood flee the battlefield. We have won! Tao is liberated!

In fairness though, what we've liberated isn't exactly spectacular. As I ride through what I guess passes as a street in the capital province of Klarjeti there's not as much cheering and rejoicing as I would have expected. In fact, if the looks the tribesmen are giving me are anything to go by, I get the impression that they're feeling that they've traded one group of heavily armed men on horseback for another. I make the point of embracing a couple of elders, making sure that I learn the local words for the phrase "GOOD MAN", and slap them on the back before leaving. At least having spent time here is going to make the capital feel like a bustling metropolis!

On the way home I have a scribe take a message to Sarkis - one of my many cousins who I am pretty sure is plotting to have me killed - and tell him I've made him a count, and that he needs to pack his bags for Klarjeti. I can only imagine his face when he gets to see who and what he is ruling over...

Back home - it appears that my wife bought the whole hunting ruse, and even came with a gift for me when she heard how successful it had been.

A puppy?

Woman! Do you know nothing of hunting? The manliness of the pursuit? The...

Oh.

Look at his big eyes!

And his tiny little paws!

Aww.

And they way he cocks his head to the side when you talk to him.

Aww.

I bloody LOVE this little guy! I'm going to call him "Tricky"!

In other news, it appears that the ladies of the court have heard of my successful "hunting trip" and some of them are pretty keen to offer their congratulations...

The months pass and Tricky and Toros (my horse - not my son) become my staunchest companions as we tour the realm, hunting all the lovely creatures that roam (or in this case try to hide in) the Armenian countryside. Tricky's even getting pretty big!

Unfortunately - and somewhat predictably - so is Chrysogone...

Once the old coffers have replenished a little (hunting's expensive, I tell my wife) I make the point of treating Sarkis to a Dukedom. In fairness, he's managed to not completely cock things up, so I may as well give him a slightly more impressive title.

Saying that, "count of the arse end of nowhere" is pretty much the same as "duke of the arse end of nowhere" but it sounds better for me if I say that all my subjects are Dukes.

At the ceremony to award him the new title he is pathetically grateful. There are even tears in his eyes! As I'm going to leave I he rushes over to me and sobs "Please take me back to Suenik - I promise to behave myself. Please. There's nothing but horses here and I think they're talking about me..." I look into his pleading eyes, put my arm around his shoulder, smile to all the people staring at us, laugh loudly, clap him on the back and yell "GOOD MAN!" before striding from the room yelling "SADDLE MY STEED - I RIDE FOR SUENIK!"

On the way home, I take a short detour through Azerbaijan and meet the locals who it seems are holding a festival that they've named "Display of our humble love for our great ruler and his successful hunting trips!"

I go drinking with the local elders, regale them with tales of glory and - after quite a few drinks - agree to protect them from bandits forever and pay to upgrade the roads (which, considering they're dirt tracks at the moment, isn't much of a promise).

The next day, I leave to their cheers, tears and shouts of joy. Apparently there are already pregnant women promising to call their children-to-be Artashes.

Buoyed by this, I speed into castle courtyard, vault from Toros' back, throw open the double doors and bellow "WIFE! YOUR SUN AND YOUR STARS HAS RETURNED!"

Some months later, I'm having dinner with mother. Mum is quite something. She still insists on preparing food herself, even though she's royalty. In addition, she clearly remembers her humble roots, as she refuses to use silverware and instead opts for simple, wooden cutlery. That being said - she's a rubbish cook. I really don't care for this weird, pork goulash. It's kind of rubbery.

Half way through the meal, she gets an odd look in her eye and starts talking about religion.

I'm done.

I've had the Greeks running about babbling about how amazing being Orthodox is, I've had the Catholics interrupting me mid-cavalry charge to tell me about the Good News and now I've got mother babbling on about...well, I'm not sure about what, but I'm betting it's some odd, Hungarian folk thing about monsters of the forest.

I stand up, clap my hands, yell "MORE ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE!" and turn the subject to hunting. Oddly, dear old mum appears to know a LOT about stalking prey and we spend hours chatting about the best way to bring down game. Who knew?

The weeks tick past...

Suenik continues to be Suenik...

And then - we have another Gardman-Aghbania!

I order a week's celebration. As part of this celebration, anyone discussing the merits of their religion versus that of someone else's will be taken out and flogged. I smile when I say this but I'm sure to glare at the Greeks as I do just so that the message is clear.

During the celebrations I'm met by a drunken Duke Sarkis who weeps openly about how all his subjects hate him and how he's sure he's seen horses staring into the windows of the hut that he grandly calls his "palace". I'm still elated at the birth of my daughter, so I promise to build him an impressive castle. He says that he'd gladly just return home, so I grasp his shoulder, laugh heartily and boom "GOOD MAN!" before waltzing off yelling "MY CUP IS DRY! MORE POMEGRANATE WINE!"

I think I may have indulged a bit too much - honestly, that pomegranate wine is SO moreish! - because a smiling Chrysogone has some more "good news" for me. At first I assume she's a Catholic and then the penny drops...

Truly, I am a virile, stallion of a man! Probably shouldn't use that comparison around Sarkis, though...

The following weeks pass in a blur - mainly because I'm still on the pomegranate wine - and then, before you know it, my eldest turns sixteen! I embrace her, laugh heartily, and clap her on the back so hard she loses her footing. My wife is staring daggers at me, so I exclaim "SIXTEEN EH? GOOD MAN!" before striding from the chamber yelling "REJOICE! MY DAUGHTER IS NOW A MAN! TONIGHT WE FEAST! MORE ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE!"

Behind me I can hear my daughter sobbing.

Probably with joy.

Was she sobbing with joy? Is the inheritance now secure? What of Artashes many bastards? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[diskoerekto]

During the celebrations I'm met by a drunken Duke Sarkis who weeps openly about how all his subjects hate him and how he's sure he's seen horses staring into the windows of the hut that he grandly calls his "palace". I'm still elated at the birth of my daughter, so I promise to build him an impressive castle. He says that he'd gladly just return home, so I grasp his shoulder, laugh heartily and boom "GOOD MAN!" before waltzing off yelling "MY CUP IS DRY! MORE POMEGRANATE WINE!"

If you upgrade the current tribal holding all 3 types of holdings will be autocreated, you need to build a stone fort or something in the tribe and there's one more condition but I don't remember what that was.

"REJOICE! MY DAUGHTER IS NOW A MAN! TONIGHT WE FEAST! MORE ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE!"

GOOD MAN!