To be fair to Duke Cecil Melchett, the philosophy of "Why do anything when you can do nothing and still take credit?'" is one shared by a good many people 
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Edmund VI has conquered new lands and people to be taxed. What's not to love about that?
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Chapter VIII : Lord Edmund Blackadder VII 'The Holy' - King of Scotland and Duke of Edinburgh (932-935)
CHAPTER VIII : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER VII 'THE HOLY' - KING OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (932-935)
Lord Edmund Blackadder VII, son of the late King Edmund VI, was next in the line of succession. A dull fortune builder, blinded by religious fervor, heathens and heretics alike would fear his zealous wroth - as well as his 'cunning plans' for new taxation.
In an extravagant ceremony on May 21st, 932, Pope Urbanus II proclaimed Edmund Blackadder VII as King of Scotland before God and men. No foreign monarch attended his coronation, a demonstration of what would be his diplomatic skills during his reign: a combination of absolute negligence and a surprising ability to alienate even the most amicable sovereigns.
To celebrate his coronation, Edmund VII organized a jousting tournament. Between injured knights and a widespread food poisoning, the highlight of the event was the court physician, who, rather than healing the wounded, spent most of his time hiding from the angry contestants and muttering about bad meat.
King Edmund VII embarked on a pilgrimage to Rome to meet the Pope and prepare for the upcoming Crusade to Jerusalem. After an exhausting journey filled with complaints about the heat, he finally arrived, only to find the Pope busy with a new hat and uninterested in discussing holy wars with a dull king.
King Edmund VII approved the Municipal Charter for Nairn, a new settlement in the County of Inverness. The town's citizens were thrilled, especially when they realized it meant a shiny new flag... but their joy turned into anger when they learnt about higher taxes. The king, pleased with his cunning plan, promised the town prosperity, though no one was quite sure how.
On March 18th, 933, Pope Urbanus II beatified Edmund VI 'the Cruel' citing his conquest of Iceland, Belfast, and Derry as signs of divine favour - though achieved by rather unchristian methods. Torture, treachery, and tax hikes were apparently no obstacle to sainthood. Pilgrims now visit his tomb, mostly to check if it is real.
On August 8th, 933, Pope Urbanus II started the First Crusade, wherein all faithful Catholics were called to help conquer Jerusalem from the Shias. Edmund VII responded to the call, on a new glorious mission for the BOATS. About 100 ships reunited in the Firth of Forth and loaded an army of 8,000 men, 2,500 horses, and many, many turnips. The orders were clear: Sail to Acre and conquer Jerusalem. Lord Baldrick enjoyed the view - but later realized there were no turnips left for him in Scotland.
During the voyage to Acre, news arrived that the Basileus had imprisoned the Scottish Spymaster. King Edmund VII, after a brief moment of disperse thinking, appointed Duke Peter Darling II of Galloway as the new head of espionage; mainly because he once played chess with a Greek.
At long last, on the 25th of January, 934, the Scottish fleet reached the shores of Acre and began the siege of the Shia stronghold. Trumpets blared, banners waved, and King Edmund VII announced that victory was inevitable - provided someone remembered to bring ladders.
Meanwhile, in Scotland, it seemed the Almighty had taken an extended holiday elsewhere. A grim epidemic of Consumption swept the land, claiming peasants, nobles, and anyone who had recently sneezed. The court physician called it 'divine testing' ; the people called it 'a bloody nightmare'.
More ill tidings drifted in from Scotland: Duke Jocelyn of Moray had died - apparently of natural causes, which was quite unnatural in itself. His son, Lord Martin Percy II, inherited both the Duchy and the burdensome title of Steward of the Realm, to everyone's quiet dismay, including his own.
Pope Urbanus II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on April 8th, 934. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Alexander IV ascended to the papal throne as Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Vicar of Christ, Bishop of Rome, Primate of Italy, Archpriest of the Holy Roman Church, Sovereign of the Vatican City and Servant of the Servants of God. The Crusade continued, as the new Pope very much fancied swords, axes, ... and the view of young male in short uniforms.
Despite the absurd and chaotic orders of King Edmund VII - among them a 'cunning plan' involving a bishop, three goats and Latin chants - the Scottish army somehow conquered Acre and triumphed over a sizable Muslim force at Chastelet, clearing the path to Jerusalem to the Catholic armies arriving from Europe.
On the 7th of November, 934, King Edmund VII's first son was born, conceived months earlier in a rather breezy campaign tent outside Acre. The child was promptly baptised Edmund by Pope Alexander IV, using a helmet for a font and a wineskin for holy water, in what was surely a cunning use of available resources.
Filled with joy (and possibly much wine) after the birth of his heir, King Edmund VII gave the final order for the assault on Jerusalem on the 11th of November, 934. Whether it was divine inspiration or sleep deprivation, none could say - but the Pope was adamant: the Holy City would fall... gloriously, and on schedule.
By Divine Will (and a lot of sharp steel), on the 14th of March, 935, the Christian armies triumphantly entered Jerusalem. The Muslim garrison surrendered, perhaps more out of pity than fear, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem was proclaimed under Papal protection. Lord Maurifi Australding 'the Sword of Jesus' was chosen to guard and protect the new Kingdom of God in the Holy Land.
Edwyn Blackadder, uncle of King Edmund VI, was granted the County of Jaffa for his brave participation in the Crusade. King Edmund VII was named 'the Holy' and received a war axe; though the true meaning of such gestures from the Pope towards Edmund VII remains a divine mystery.
Once the Crusade was concluded, Edmund VII set sail with his BOATS back home. Unfortunately, just a few months later, he fell ill, and the BOATS' physician diagnosed him with scurvy. Despite advice to stop in Portugal for treatment, Edmund VII refused, claiming he'd rather die than set foot in that disgraceful land of sardine-eaters and rosé-wines, and he ordered the fleet to continue sailing straight for Edinburgh. This was his last cunning plan.
Edmund Blackadder VII died of scurvy, aged 19, on August 12th, 935. A Crusader in Jerusalem, he was unable to return home to boast of his achievements and ended his days sailing off the Isle of Wright. His remains were taken to Scotland and now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER VII 'THE HOLY' - KING OF SCOTLAND - CONQUERED JERUSALEM BUT ONLY GOT A MEDIOCRE NICKNAME AND A RUSTY WAR AXE - AD CMXXXV.
Lord Edmund Blackadder VII, son of the late King Edmund VI, was next in the line of succession. A dull fortune builder, blinded by religious fervor, heathens and heretics alike would fear his zealous wroth - as well as his 'cunning plans' for new taxation.
In an extravagant ceremony on May 21st, 932, Pope Urbanus II proclaimed Edmund Blackadder VII as King of Scotland before God and men. No foreign monarch attended his coronation, a demonstration of what would be his diplomatic skills during his reign: a combination of absolute negligence and a surprising ability to alienate even the most amicable sovereigns.
To celebrate his coronation, Edmund VII organized a jousting tournament. Between injured knights and a widespread food poisoning, the highlight of the event was the court physician, who, rather than healing the wounded, spent most of his time hiding from the angry contestants and muttering about bad meat.
King Edmund VII embarked on a pilgrimage to Rome to meet the Pope and prepare for the upcoming Crusade to Jerusalem. After an exhausting journey filled with complaints about the heat, he finally arrived, only to find the Pope busy with a new hat and uninterested in discussing holy wars with a dull king.
King Edmund VII approved the Municipal Charter for Nairn, a new settlement in the County of Inverness. The town's citizens were thrilled, especially when they realized it meant a shiny new flag... but their joy turned into anger when they learnt about higher taxes. The king, pleased with his cunning plan, promised the town prosperity, though no one was quite sure how.
On March 18th, 933, Pope Urbanus II beatified Edmund VI 'the Cruel' citing his conquest of Iceland, Belfast, and Derry as signs of divine favour - though achieved by rather unchristian methods. Torture, treachery, and tax hikes were apparently no obstacle to sainthood. Pilgrims now visit his tomb, mostly to check if it is real.
On August 8th, 933, Pope Urbanus II started the First Crusade, wherein all faithful Catholics were called to help conquer Jerusalem from the Shias. Edmund VII responded to the call, on a new glorious mission for the BOATS. About 100 ships reunited in the Firth of Forth and loaded an army of 8,000 men, 2,500 horses, and many, many turnips. The orders were clear: Sail to Acre and conquer Jerusalem. Lord Baldrick enjoyed the view - but later realized there were no turnips left for him in Scotland.
During the voyage to Acre, news arrived that the Basileus had imprisoned the Scottish Spymaster. King Edmund VII, after a brief moment of disperse thinking, appointed Duke Peter Darling II of Galloway as the new head of espionage; mainly because he once played chess with a Greek.
At long last, on the 25th of January, 934, the Scottish fleet reached the shores of Acre and began the siege of the Shia stronghold. Trumpets blared, banners waved, and King Edmund VII announced that victory was inevitable - provided someone remembered to bring ladders.
Meanwhile, in Scotland, it seemed the Almighty had taken an extended holiday elsewhere. A grim epidemic of Consumption swept the land, claiming peasants, nobles, and anyone who had recently sneezed. The court physician called it 'divine testing' ; the people called it 'a bloody nightmare'.
More ill tidings drifted in from Scotland: Duke Jocelyn of Moray had died - apparently of natural causes, which was quite unnatural in itself. His son, Lord Martin Percy II, inherited both the Duchy and the burdensome title of Steward of the Realm, to everyone's quiet dismay, including his own.
Pope Urbanus II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on April 8th, 934. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Alexander IV ascended to the papal throne as Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Vicar of Christ, Bishop of Rome, Primate of Italy, Archpriest of the Holy Roman Church, Sovereign of the Vatican City and Servant of the Servants of God. The Crusade continued, as the new Pope very much fancied swords, axes, ... and the view of young male in short uniforms.
Despite the absurd and chaotic orders of King Edmund VII - among them a 'cunning plan' involving a bishop, three goats and Latin chants - the Scottish army somehow conquered Acre and triumphed over a sizable Muslim force at Chastelet, clearing the path to Jerusalem to the Catholic armies arriving from Europe.
On the 7th of November, 934, King Edmund VII's first son was born, conceived months earlier in a rather breezy campaign tent outside Acre. The child was promptly baptised Edmund by Pope Alexander IV, using a helmet for a font and a wineskin for holy water, in what was surely a cunning use of available resources.
Filled with joy (and possibly much wine) after the birth of his heir, King Edmund VII gave the final order for the assault on Jerusalem on the 11th of November, 934. Whether it was divine inspiration or sleep deprivation, none could say - but the Pope was adamant: the Holy City would fall... gloriously, and on schedule.
By Divine Will (and a lot of sharp steel), on the 14th of March, 935, the Christian armies triumphantly entered Jerusalem. The Muslim garrison surrendered, perhaps more out of pity than fear, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem was proclaimed under Papal protection. Lord Maurifi Australding 'the Sword of Jesus' was chosen to guard and protect the new Kingdom of God in the Holy Land.
Edwyn Blackadder, uncle of King Edmund VI, was granted the County of Jaffa for his brave participation in the Crusade. King Edmund VII was named 'the Holy' and received a war axe; though the true meaning of such gestures from the Pope towards Edmund VII remains a divine mystery.
Once the Crusade was concluded, Edmund VII set sail with his BOATS back home. Unfortunately, just a few months later, he fell ill, and the BOATS' physician diagnosed him with scurvy. Despite advice to stop in Portugal for treatment, Edmund VII refused, claiming he'd rather die than set foot in that disgraceful land of sardine-eaters and rosé-wines, and he ordered the fleet to continue sailing straight for Edinburgh. This was his last cunning plan.
Edmund Blackadder VII died of scurvy, aged 19, on August 12th, 935. A Crusader in Jerusalem, he was unable to return home to boast of his achievements and ended his days sailing off the Isle of Wright. His remains were taken to Scotland and now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER VII 'THE HOLY' - KING OF SCOTLAND - CONQUERED JERUSALEM BUT ONLY GOT A MEDIOCRE NICKNAME AND A RUSTY WAR AXE - AD CMXXXV.
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I take it that Edmund VII didn't like sardines and rosé-wines.
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His reign ended as it had started, insulting as many nations as possible ...
Baldrick was expecting a Jerusalem artichoke... but he would be happy with a turnip.
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This was indeed the best part of the last chapter and what a fateful decision it turned out to be.
Will we now see a Blackadder regency?
Thank you for this latest installment.
Yes, as you know, usually chapters cover a monarch each, but next chapter will be regency, as Edmund VIII is only nine months old. Hopefully he will survive to childhood and have his own chapter later on...
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Well, if I was the Pope, I know which one I'd choose.
P.S. - It's the hat.
The turnips were all confiscated. It was a matter of religious, military, and national security.
So he at least speaks some Greek then? He's better qualified than most!
Maybe this time he won't get caught.At least that's better than a lousy t-shirt.
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This sounds quite optimistic ... but a Darling can always surprise us on the most unforeseen ways.
CHAPTER IX : SIX REGENTS MOST WRETCHED - AND A GOOSE BEING KNIGHTED (935-949)
Lord Edmund Blackadder VIII, son of the late King Edmund VII, was next in the line of succession. Being still an infant, he was placed under the governance of his uncle Prince Edmond, a stubborn but dutiful cleric, who would serve as the Regent of Scotland until the young king came of age, trusting that by then Edmund VIII would be capable of ruling on his own - though that was quite a stretch for any Blackadder.
The first official act of Prince Regent Edmond was to grant the Municipal Charter to Kirkcaldy, a modest town in the County of St. Andrews, at the request of the ever-persistent Baldricks. The town rejoiced... until they received the charter and discovered the new taxes.
Leontia Amalfinos, an Italian woman who had arrived at the Edinburgh court some years prior, was burned at the stake. Whether she was truly a witch or simply cursed with an accent thick enough to make her English incomprehensible remains unclear.
In October 935, a note arrived from Constantinople: the Spymaster had been arrested (yet again). The Prince Regent, sighing with the weariness of predictable disasters, dispatched Lord Eddarnonn MacOrkney II to the Byzantine capital to see what else could be learnt - or at least test the capacity of its dungeons.
Pope Alexander IV, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of Camp Fever on November 5th, 935. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Eugenius III ascended to the papal throne as Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Vicar of Christ, Bishop of Rome, Primate of Italy, Archpriest of the Holy Roman Church, Sovereign of the Vatican City and Servant of the Servants of God.
The year 935 brought yet another demise: Duke Albert Flashheart of the Isle of Man passed away, reportedly while attempting to ride a wild seahorse. He was succeeded by his son, Harry Flashheart - louder, brasher, and with even more daring ideas about impossible mounts.
Lord Eddarnonn MacOrkney II perished on a 'secret mission' in the most expensive Byzantine brothel. Lord Binyamin of Rawa - an Ashkenazi noble with suspiciously sharp ears - was sent to Constantinople as the new Spymaster. Duke Allisander MacOrkney, firstborn son of Duke Eddarnonn II, inherited the Duchy.
Prince Regent Edmond Blackadder succumbed to Consumption on July 24th, 936, aged 17. Regency passed then to Duke Martin Percy II of Moray - a cunning steward, master of tactics, and so deceitful he could outfox a fox and sell it back its own tail as a novelty scarf. Just a few weeks into his regency, Duke Regent Martin Percy II drowned suspiciously during a bath - raising questions no one dared answer. Regency was entrusted to Duke Cecil Melchett of the Isles: a scholary theologian with a taste for justice, wine, and women - though rarely in that order. Duke Arthur Percy, firstborn son of Duke Martin II, inherited the Duchy of Moray.
Duke Guybrush Threepwood of Iceland, famed for shipwrecks and questionable navigation skills, was appointed Steward of Scotland. His first act was to ask where exactly Scotland kept its treasures - a promising start to administrative reform.
Duke Regent Cecil Melchett, stuffed with pies and plagued by Consumption, finally met his Maker. The regency passed to Lord Binyamin of Rawa, the cunning Ashkenazi spymaster, who now ruled Scotland with a quill in one hand and a dagger in the other. Duke Lionel Melchett II, firstborn son of Duke Cecil, inherited the Duchy. Duke Allisander MacOrkney, recently elevated and still unsure which end of a scroll to read, was appointed Chancellor of Scotland. Courtiers rejoiced briefly, until they remembered his predecessor had at least known how to spell his name.
In 937, Hrolfr, a loud-mouthed Germanic peasant with more beard than sense, stirred revolt in Iceland. Regent Binyamin, unimpressed by Viking theatrics, dispatched troops at once, noting 'If they want to play Norse gods, we'll send them to Valhalla with a Scottish boot'.
The army of Scotland, commanded by Lord Stephen Blackadder, was victorious in the battle of Höfn against the armies of Germanic Uprising. Hrolfr, leader of the revolt, was swiftly defeated in battle and tossed into the oubliette like an overripe turnip. Left to ponder his poor life choices in the dank darkness, he succumbed a few weeks later, proving that the Scottish oubliette was a good first step to Valhalla.
Young King Edmund VIII, still a lad with a crown far too big for his head, began to revel in his newfound power and became playful. With a mischievous grin, he ordered his courtiers to stage mock battles in the halls and declared that the royal pet goose would henceforth be knighted, much to the bewilderment of all.
Duke Guybrush Threepwood of Iceland, famed for his unintentional heroics and occasional bouts of confusion, met his end after a particularly disastrous attempt to tame a particularly aggressive sea cucumber. His son Gaujoin inherited both the Duchy and the chair of Steward, though it was unclear whether he was any less prone to accidents.
In 939, Scotland saw two rare strokes of good fortune. First, the Consumption epidemic finally ceased, allowing the population to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Second, Orkney, after much prodding, finally progressed and abandoned their tribal ways, deciding it was time to stop throwing rocks at each other.
Queen Liekko Karjalainen of Finland, the classic childless spinster, sent a No-Aggression Pact in a strange attempt to adopt Edmund VIII. However, Edmund VIII, now growing rowdy and brooding, barely glanced at the pact before tossing it aside, more interested in his new pet dog than foreign diplomacy.
In a sudden twist, the regency of Scotland passed to Lord Edward Blackadder, a distant cousin of the young king Edmund VIII. Known for his sharp wit and even sharper ambition, Edward was eager to prove that his cunning plans could run Scotland more smoothly... or at least entertain the young debutantes. But after a couple of 'noisy and indecorous' incidents involving young debutantes and too much wine, Lord Edward Blackadder was swiftly replaced by Lord Simon Blackadder, another distant cousin of King Edmund VIII. Simon, famed for his unremarkable intelligence and a knack for making everything incredibly awkward, took the reins with all the grace of a drunken goose.
In 944, Duke Arthur Baldrick IV of Albany passed away. His son, Arthur Baldrick V, ascended to the Duchy, inheriting his father's title with the grace of a brick. To the surprise of absolutely no one, he also took up the position of Marshal, though it's unclear whether his skills extended beyond tripping over his own feet.
In 945, Scotland was struck once again by the dreaded measles, making its grand return. As if Blackadder's Regency wasn't enough, the people now had to contend with the itchy, spotty plague. The only thing that spread faster than the disease was the rumours about how the regent might be involved.
In 946, Princess Joanna Blackadder, sister of King Edmund VIII, married King Childeric de Vaudemont of Austrasia, in what was hailed as a match of political convenience and questionable romantic appeal. The marriage was celebrated with lavish feasts, though Baldrick missed more decorative turnips.
In 947, young King Edmund VIII was set for a Stewardship Education, mentored by Scotland's most notable traders and bankers. While his subjects hoped he would learn the art of governance, Edmund's interests seemed more focused on discovering how much coin could be pocketed from the royal treasury without getting caught.
As became a rather unfortunate Scottish tradition, the Spymaster was arrested - once again - in Constantinople. With no one else available, Allisander MacOrkney was reluctantly appointed as the new Spymaster, much to his dismay.
King Edmund VIII, following the ever cunning strategy of his regent Lord Simon, was betrothed to the young Countess Aethelburh Beorning of Worcester, a young girl still a virgin (or so the engagement contract indicated). Naturally, this was less about love and more about a devious plan to annex her lands - because there is no better way to expand a kingdom than with a well-placed marriage.
Upon reaching the age of 14, Edmund VIII's regency ended, and he began his reign unmonitored by any guardian. To mark this grand moment of independence, the realm nicknamed him Edmund 'the Young' though no one would say if it was because of his age or his tendency to throw tantrums at court.
Lord Edmund Blackadder VIII, son of the late King Edmund VII, was next in the line of succession. Being still an infant, he was placed under the governance of his uncle Prince Edmond, a stubborn but dutiful cleric, who would serve as the Regent of Scotland until the young king came of age, trusting that by then Edmund VIII would be capable of ruling on his own - though that was quite a stretch for any Blackadder.
The first official act of Prince Regent Edmond was to grant the Municipal Charter to Kirkcaldy, a modest town in the County of St. Andrews, at the request of the ever-persistent Baldricks. The town rejoiced... until they received the charter and discovered the new taxes.
Leontia Amalfinos, an Italian woman who had arrived at the Edinburgh court some years prior, was burned at the stake. Whether she was truly a witch or simply cursed with an accent thick enough to make her English incomprehensible remains unclear.
In October 935, a note arrived from Constantinople: the Spymaster had been arrested (yet again). The Prince Regent, sighing with the weariness of predictable disasters, dispatched Lord Eddarnonn MacOrkney II to the Byzantine capital to see what else could be learnt - or at least test the capacity of its dungeons.
Pope Alexander IV, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of Camp Fever on November 5th, 935. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Eugenius III ascended to the papal throne as Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Vicar of Christ, Bishop of Rome, Primate of Italy, Archpriest of the Holy Roman Church, Sovereign of the Vatican City and Servant of the Servants of God.
The year 935 brought yet another demise: Duke Albert Flashheart of the Isle of Man passed away, reportedly while attempting to ride a wild seahorse. He was succeeded by his son, Harry Flashheart - louder, brasher, and with even more daring ideas about impossible mounts.
Lord Eddarnonn MacOrkney II perished on a 'secret mission' in the most expensive Byzantine brothel. Lord Binyamin of Rawa - an Ashkenazi noble with suspiciously sharp ears - was sent to Constantinople as the new Spymaster. Duke Allisander MacOrkney, firstborn son of Duke Eddarnonn II, inherited the Duchy.
Prince Regent Edmond Blackadder succumbed to Consumption on July 24th, 936, aged 17. Regency passed then to Duke Martin Percy II of Moray - a cunning steward, master of tactics, and so deceitful he could outfox a fox and sell it back its own tail as a novelty scarf. Just a few weeks into his regency, Duke Regent Martin Percy II drowned suspiciously during a bath - raising questions no one dared answer. Regency was entrusted to Duke Cecil Melchett of the Isles: a scholary theologian with a taste for justice, wine, and women - though rarely in that order. Duke Arthur Percy, firstborn son of Duke Martin II, inherited the Duchy of Moray.
Duke Guybrush Threepwood of Iceland, famed for shipwrecks and questionable navigation skills, was appointed Steward of Scotland. His first act was to ask where exactly Scotland kept its treasures - a promising start to administrative reform.
Duke Regent Cecil Melchett, stuffed with pies and plagued by Consumption, finally met his Maker. The regency passed to Lord Binyamin of Rawa, the cunning Ashkenazi spymaster, who now ruled Scotland with a quill in one hand and a dagger in the other. Duke Lionel Melchett II, firstborn son of Duke Cecil, inherited the Duchy. Duke Allisander MacOrkney, recently elevated and still unsure which end of a scroll to read, was appointed Chancellor of Scotland. Courtiers rejoiced briefly, until they remembered his predecessor had at least known how to spell his name.
In 937, Hrolfr, a loud-mouthed Germanic peasant with more beard than sense, stirred revolt in Iceland. Regent Binyamin, unimpressed by Viking theatrics, dispatched troops at once, noting 'If they want to play Norse gods, we'll send them to Valhalla with a Scottish boot'.
The army of Scotland, commanded by Lord Stephen Blackadder, was victorious in the battle of Höfn against the armies of Germanic Uprising. Hrolfr, leader of the revolt, was swiftly defeated in battle and tossed into the oubliette like an overripe turnip. Left to ponder his poor life choices in the dank darkness, he succumbed a few weeks later, proving that the Scottish oubliette was a good first step to Valhalla.
Young King Edmund VIII, still a lad with a crown far too big for his head, began to revel in his newfound power and became playful. With a mischievous grin, he ordered his courtiers to stage mock battles in the halls and declared that the royal pet goose would henceforth be knighted, much to the bewilderment of all.
Duke Guybrush Threepwood of Iceland, famed for his unintentional heroics and occasional bouts of confusion, met his end after a particularly disastrous attempt to tame a particularly aggressive sea cucumber. His son Gaujoin inherited both the Duchy and the chair of Steward, though it was unclear whether he was any less prone to accidents.
In 939, Scotland saw two rare strokes of good fortune. First, the Consumption epidemic finally ceased, allowing the population to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Second, Orkney, after much prodding, finally progressed and abandoned their tribal ways, deciding it was time to stop throwing rocks at each other.
Queen Liekko Karjalainen of Finland, the classic childless spinster, sent a No-Aggression Pact in a strange attempt to adopt Edmund VIII. However, Edmund VIII, now growing rowdy and brooding, barely glanced at the pact before tossing it aside, more interested in his new pet dog than foreign diplomacy.
In a sudden twist, the regency of Scotland passed to Lord Edward Blackadder, a distant cousin of the young king Edmund VIII. Known for his sharp wit and even sharper ambition, Edward was eager to prove that his cunning plans could run Scotland more smoothly... or at least entertain the young debutantes. But after a couple of 'noisy and indecorous' incidents involving young debutantes and too much wine, Lord Edward Blackadder was swiftly replaced by Lord Simon Blackadder, another distant cousin of King Edmund VIII. Simon, famed for his unremarkable intelligence and a knack for making everything incredibly awkward, took the reins with all the grace of a drunken goose.
In 944, Duke Arthur Baldrick IV of Albany passed away. His son, Arthur Baldrick V, ascended to the Duchy, inheriting his father's title with the grace of a brick. To the surprise of absolutely no one, he also took up the position of Marshal, though it's unclear whether his skills extended beyond tripping over his own feet.
In 945, Scotland was struck once again by the dreaded measles, making its grand return. As if Blackadder's Regency wasn't enough, the people now had to contend with the itchy, spotty plague. The only thing that spread faster than the disease was the rumours about how the regent might be involved.
In 946, Princess Joanna Blackadder, sister of King Edmund VIII, married King Childeric de Vaudemont of Austrasia, in what was hailed as a match of political convenience and questionable romantic appeal. The marriage was celebrated with lavish feasts, though Baldrick missed more decorative turnips.
In 947, young King Edmund VIII was set for a Stewardship Education, mentored by Scotland's most notable traders and bankers. While his subjects hoped he would learn the art of governance, Edmund's interests seemed more focused on discovering how much coin could be pocketed from the royal treasury without getting caught.
As became a rather unfortunate Scottish tradition, the Spymaster was arrested - once again - in Constantinople. With no one else available, Allisander MacOrkney was reluctantly appointed as the new Spymaster, much to his dismay.
King Edmund VIII, following the ever cunning strategy of his regent Lord Simon, was betrothed to the young Countess Aethelburh Beorning of Worcester, a young girl still a virgin (or so the engagement contract indicated). Naturally, this was less about love and more about a devious plan to annex her lands - because there is no better way to expand a kingdom than with a well-placed marriage.
Upon reaching the age of 14, Edmund VIII's regency ended, and he began his reign unmonitored by any guardian. To mark this grand moment of independence, the realm nicknamed him Edmund 'the Young' though no one would say if it was because of his age or his tendency to throw tantrums at court.
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As the ingame message said, the reasons behind the regent change are out of our understanding... Lord Binyamin remained in the Byzantine capital a couple more years trying to learn technology, until he was imprisoned by the Basileus and now sits (or maybe hangs) in a cell within the Theodosian Walls in Constantinople.
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So many regent changes! Everyone wanted to outscheme and outdo each other for the top spot, but how much was due incompetence and luck?
That goose is probably a better knight than everyone else in Scotland.
That goose is probably a better knight than everyone else in Scotland.
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Without detracting from the much missed and always loved Chancellor Glitterhoof ...
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Thank you for the new chapter and the chuckles that go with that.
I realize this is written from a Scottish perspective (and love the darkly comedic parts of that) but a true follower of the Germanic religion would tell you dying in the oubliette is a one way ticket to Hel's feasting hall. Did like the line about the Scottish boot sending folks to Valhalla though. Another nice touch.
Did Edmund VIII set the record for the most regents ever?
Best line of this new chapter, although there were several others to consider too.
I also like the "overripe turnip" imagery in this paragraph, although I think you unintentionally have some repeated lines here that may be worthy of an edit.
I realize this is written from a Scottish perspective (and love the darkly comedic parts of that) but a true follower of the Germanic religion would tell you dying in the oubliette is a one way ticket to Hel's feasting hall. Did like the line about the Scottish boot sending folks to Valhalla though. Another nice touch.
I forgot that your mods make the regencies end at 14. Really seems too young to rule without a supervisor. 16 seems ridiculously young too, by the way.
Did Edmund VIII set the record for the most regents ever?