Blackadder - The most cunning and scheming dynasty Scotland had yet seen

dmurgell · Mar 20, 2025

I'm going to share with you my AAR, taking the persona of Edmund Blackadder, starting with the title of Duke of Edinburgh in the year 769.

I'm playing this game in the year 2025 on the 3.3.5.1 version of the game in Steam with all its expansions and DLCs, plus some mods (notably three: Rich Childhood, Great Trade League and Warrior Societies).

To be able to start the game at year 769 with the said noble title and some additional characters for context, I had to edit the savegame and tweak some details. While some might consider it cheating, this AAR is purely for my own enjoyment and I'm not aiming for any glory or prestige.

Each chapter will cover the reign of a monarch and will be published upon their death.

Also, and I don't know if anyone has done this before, on my AAR will add a touch of humor and irony on narrated facts, trying to emulate the style of the popular television series, while illustrating some of the most relevant events with images generated by artificial intelligence (instead of game screenshots).

For storytelling purpose - and author's preferences as well - some landed titles have been renamed. Below I will try to keep a list of them for your reference. Also notice I always rename the first three holdings on each county to the match the capital (ie: There is the Earl of Edinburgh, the Bishop of Edinburgh and the Mayor of Edinburgh).

Renamed titles:
Edinburgh, County and Duchy -> Formerly were Lothian, County and Duchy.
Jedburgh, County -> Formerly was Teviotdale, County.
Dumfries, County -> Formerly was Galloway, County.
Glasgow, County -> Formerly was Clydesdale, County.
Perth, County -> Formerly was Strathearn, County.
St. Andrews, County --> Formerly was Fife, County.
Scone, County --> Formerly was Gowrie, County.
Aberdeen, County --> Formerly was Buchan, County.
Inverness, County --> Formerly was Moray, County.
Reykjavík, County --> Formerly was Suðurland, County.
Höfn, County --> Formerly was Austisland, County.
Akureyri, County --> Formerly was Norðland, County.
Hvamm, County --> Formerly was Vestisland, County.
Belfast, County --> Formerly was Ulster, County.
Derry, County --> Formerly was Tyrone, County.

Notice also, as this is the Chronicle of the House Blackadder, and not a kingdom chronicle, ordinal numbers will follow the family order but not the title order. Lord Edmund Blackadder III would reign in Scotland as Edmund I, but will be always referred as Edmund III in the text, following his house numeral. This would apply to all his successors at the head of the Blackadder dynasty.

I hope you enjoy reading the AAR - as much as I will be enjoying both playing the game and generating the text and images afterwards.

dmurgell · Mar 20, 2025

CHAPTER I : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER 'THE JUST' - FIRST DUKE OF EDINBURGH (769-803)

In this most fateful year of 769, the noble Edmund Blackadder, with guile most cunning and wit most sharp, did lay claim to the fair lands of Edinburgh and Jedburgh. Through trickery, treachery, and the occasional well-placed bribe, he secured his dominion and was proclaimed the first Duke of his line, thus founding the most scheming dynasty Scotland had yet seen.

Having secured his dominion, the cunning Edmund Blackadder did gather to his court men of wisdom - and some of questionable competence. He named as his councillors the ever-dim Lord Percy Percy, the boastful Lord Harry Flashheart, the dour Lord Kevin Darling, and the pious yet menacing Bishop Alan of Edinburgh.

Edmund Blackadder did appoint Bishop Alan of Edinburgh as Chancellor, entrusting him with diplomacy. With piety and menace, he ensured alliances - or, when needed, excommunications most inconvenient.

Lord Percy Percy, despite possessing the tactical mind of a turnip, was named Marshal of the realm. Charged with training the troops, he ensured they were well-drilled, though often in entirely the wrong direction.

Lord Harry Flashheart, with his boundless confidence and thunderous laughter, was appointed Steward of the realm. Tasked with collecting taxes, he did so with flair-often demanding payment in gold, admiration, or the kisses of fair maidens.

Lord Kevin Darling, ever dour and perpetually exasperated, was named Master of Spies. With great reluctance, he was dispatched to Constantinople to acquire secret knowledge, though many feared he would return only with a sunburn and endless complaints.

Bishop Hugh of Jedburgh, a man of solemn prayers and surprisingly creative curses, was appointed Court Chaplain. Tasked with safeguarding the faith of the courtiers, he spent equal time delivering sermons and exorcising their many, many sins.

Lord Cecil Melchett, a man of booming voice and baffling tactics, was promoted to Commander and placed in charge of the Edinburgh levies. With great enthusiasm and minimal strategy, he prepared the troops for glorious, if utterly misguided, victories.

Lord Baldrick Baldrick, a man of questionable hygiene and even more questionable intellect, was promoted to Commander and placed in charge of the Jedburgh levies. His plans, often described as cunning, mostly by himself, ensured that confusion remained the army's most reliable weapon.

Duke Edmund Blackadder did graciously authorize a weekly market in Edinburgh, allowing peasants, herdsmen and artisans to sell their wares. Naturally, a generous portion of the profits found its way into the Duke's coffers, proving that commerce, like war, was best waged with cunning and a well-placed tax.

The most shrewd and opportunistic Edmund Blackadder did take to wife the noble Lady Lantsuinda Adalberts, daughter of Count Odacre of Valais. This union, forged more from political convenience than affection, did secure alliances most advantageous - while some whispered that the bride possessed both the charm and warmth of a frozen codpiece.

In the waning days of 769, Duke Edmund Blackadder undertook a pilgrimage to Ireland to visit the tomb of Saint Patrick, though some noted that he merely sought a change of scenery. Along the way, he encountered strange folks, learned dubious skills, and, most importantly, perfected the art of avoiding tavern bills.

In the turbulent year of 769, amidst much bickering between local lords, Edmund Blackadder found himself accidentally involved in a skirmish near Edinburgh. Riding out for a leisurely hunt, or, as some claimed, to inspect hygiene at brothels, he stumbled upon two warring clans. Mistaking his arrival for royal intervention, both sides hastily agreed to a truce. Ever the opportunist, Blackadder took full credit for 'negotiating peace' promptly taxing both clans for the service.

On the 11th day of November in the Year of Our Lord 770, Lady Lantsuinda did give birth to a son, named - by great effort of imagination - Edmund II. The child, red-faced and already scowling, was declared the future heir. Courtiers agreed he had his father's sharp wit and, regrettably, his mother's terrifying glare.

In the grim year of 771, a most unwelcome guest arrived in the counties of Edinburgh and Jedburgh: Slow fever. This most inconsiderate plague claimed a fifth of the population, much to the dismay of grieving families and, more importantly, tax collectors. Ever pragmatic, Duke Edmund Blackadder decreed mourning should be swift and business swiftly resumed - especially the paying of dues.

In the Year of Our Lord 772, Duke Edmund Blackadder, ever fond of avoiding costly battles, especially those he might lose, signed a pact of non-aggression with Earl Ffernfael Morgannwg of Gwent. The treaty was sealed with much pomp, feasting, and suspiciously insincere smiles - both men privately confident they would outscheme the other before long.

On the fourth year of his reign, Edmund Blackadder embarked on what was meant to be a grand inspection of his realm but instead took an unexpected turn toward aquatic adventure. While crossing a river near Jedburgh, his horse, perhaps as cunning as its rider, decided midstream was an excellent place to stop. The Duke, unamused and increasingly damp, was forced to swim to shore, dignity sinking faster than his boots.

On the 7th day of December in the Year of Our Lord 774, Lady Lantsuinda once again fulfilled her dynastic duty, giving birth to a second son, named - through sheer display of imagination - Edmond. The child was declared healthy, loud, and already frowning, proving beyond doubt that he was a true Blackadder.

By the grace of fate, in the year 775, the dreaded Slow fever plague at last loosened its grip on the lands of Edinburgh and Jedburgh. Survivors rejoiced, priests gave thanks, and tax collectors dusted off their ledgers with renewed enthusiasm. Ever pragmatic, Duke Edmund Blackadder declared the crisis over and immediately raised tariffs - after all, someone had to pay for all those funerals.

In the Year of Our Lord 776, the shepherds of Edinburgh, having enjoyed a particularly prosperous season, decided to form a Guild to protect their interests. Duke Edmund Blackadder, ever alert to new opportunities - especially those involving other people's money - graciously approved their charter and promptly introduced a special Guild Tax on the new activity.

Duke Edmund Blackadder, in a decision both bold and deeply misguided, appointed Lord Harry Flashheart as Tutor of the Court, responsible for the education of noble children. Lessons quickly devolved into tales of dashing exploits, swordplay practice and enthusiastic shouting - ensuring a generation of pupils well-versed in bravado but utterly clueless in arithmetic.

In the quiet and peaceful year of 778, Duke Edmund Blackadder, ever the lover of pomp and circumstance, commissioned a Crown, Scepter, and Ceremonial Sword from the finest goldsmith in Edinburgh. The resulting set, grand in appearance but somewhat prone to tarnish, was promptly used in all manner of ceremonial occasions - mostly for the purposes of impressing guests and avoiding actual work.

Pope Stephanus III, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of Consumption on March 25th, 779. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Nicolaus 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.

Duke Edmund Blackadder's hunting trip turned disastrous when Baldrick mistook his prized falcon for a chicken and tried to roast it. The enraged bird escaped, attacking the party and sending nobles fleeing. Blackadder returned to Edinburgh scratched, furious, and increasingly convinced Baldrick's 'cunning plans' were secret assassination attempts.

In the Year of Our Lord 780, Duke Edmund Blackadder of Edinburgh led a most successful raid into Cumberland. With sword in hand and a smirk on his face, he pillaged villages and castles alike, leaving behind a trail of confusion, stolen silver and, occasionally, a bewildered sheep or two. The Duke returned victorious, though, as usual, his most treasured spoils were the excessive taxes he imposed on his own lands to fund the venture.

In the wake of his successful (and thoroughly self-serving) campaign in Cumberland, Edmund Blackadder, ever one to enjoy a bit of irony, was bestowed with the title 'the Just' by his subjects. This, of course, had little to do with fairness or virtue, but rather with his impeccable ability to justify any action - no matter how ruthless or absurd - using the most convoluted logic. The peasants, secretly laughing, nodded in agreement, grateful that 'the Just' didn't yet decide to raise taxes for breathing.

In the rainy and cold year of 781, Duke Edmund Blackadder, with his usual flair for expansion, set his sights on the County of Bernicia. Once again, he led a raid of unparalleled efficiency - pillaging villages, looting castles, and generally leaving chaos in his wake. The locals, unable to stop him, could only lament the the Duke's ability to justify his actions and keep all the loot for himself.

Encouraged by the resounding success of his previous raids, Duke Edmund Blackadder, ever the ambitious strategist, set his sights on the County of Dunbar in the Year of Our Lord 782. This time, however, his intent was not mere plunder, but full annexation. With cunning as sharp as his tongue, he devised a plan to take Dunbar under his control - although his current ruler, King Æthelred of Northumberland did not share Blackadder's point of view.

Duke Edmund Blackadder, with an army of a thousand men - most of whom were likely as competent with a sword as Lord Percy Percy was with a map - laid siege to Dunbar. The campaign, which stretched on for an entire year, was a test of both patience and questionable military tactics. Despite the unrelenting siege, Edmund's forces finally claimed victory, securing Dunbar for his growing realm. The Duke, of course, took full credit, though he spent more time in the tavern than on the battlefield.

Once Dunbar had been annexed, Duke Edmund Blackadder, ever the master of rewarding loyalty, appointed his distant-cousin Lord Henry MacAdder as Commander. Lord MacAdder, a man of few words and even fewer successful strategies, was tasked with maintaining order in Dunbar - though it was widely suspected that his greatest contribution would be ensuring the local taverns stayed well-stocked and his soldiers well-distracted.

In the summer of the year 783, Duke Edmund Blackadder received troubling news: Lord Kevin Darling, ever the master of subtlety, had been discovered spying in Constantinople and was now an honored guest (or rather, prisoner) of the Basileus. With little hope of his return, Gregory Percy, son of Lord Percy, was appointed as the new Spymaster, ensuring that, if nothing else, Byzantine secrets would now be thoroughly confused rather than actually uncovered.

On the 11th day of August in the Year of Our Lord 784, Lady Lantsuinda once again fulfilled her noble duty and gave birth to a third son, Edward. Courtiers politely declared the child strong and healthy, though some noted with concern that, given his father's lineage, he was likely to grow up either dangerously ambitious or deeply sarcastic; if not both.

By the grace of fate, in 784, Duke Edmund Blackadder set sail on what was meant to be a routine diplomatic mission, only for his ship to be blown wildly off course. After an undignified shipwreck, a misunderstanding involving a chieftain's daughter, and a duel with an enraged fisherman over the price of herring, Blackadder inadvertently secured a lucrative trade route between Edinburgh and Romsdal in Norway - thus proving that fortune sometimes favors the deeply inconvenienced.

As the year 785 unfolded, Duke Edmund Blackadder commissioned a grand establishment in Edinburgh - only to discover too late that his request for a brothel had been misinterpreted as a hospital. Seeing the joy of his subjects, he cunningly accepted the confusion and created the new Healthcare Tax.

With the turning of the year 785, young Edmund Blackadder II reached the noble age of 14 and was promptly granted the titles of Regent, Commander and Master of the Horse of Edinburgh. Whether this was due to his wisdom or simply his father's desire to offload responsibilities remains unclear.

As the year 785 drew to a close, Duke Edmund Blackadder proudly published THE FEUDAL REALM, a treatise on diplomacy and good governance. Lauded for its wisdom, the book was, in fact, a stolen manuscript from none other than Charlemagne himself. Thanks to some careful editing - mostly replacing 'Empire' with 'Duchy' and 'Charlemagne' with 'Blackadder' - no soul would ever question its true authorship.

Whilst chasing a particularly stubborn chicken, a peasant tripped over a peculiar rock near Jedburgh. Upon closer inspection, the rock turned out to be the protruding tip of a large gold vein. Duke Edmund, demonstrating his signature cunning, declared the land his own, imposing generous mining tariffs - generous for himself, that is.

On the 11th of July, 786, Lady Lantsuinda gave birth to Edwyn Blackadder, the Duke's fourth son. Though no one expected him to surpass his older brothers in ambition or charm, the newborn was promptly declared healthy and sure to inherit the family's knack for trouble. The Duke, ever pragmatic, began preparing his youngest son for a lifetime of slightly less challenging duties.

In the year 787, in a feat that defied all logic and reason, Duke Edmund Blackadder, without any clear explanation, predicted a meteor shower over Edinburgh. When the celestial display occurred exactly as he had foretold, nobles and scholars alike were left astounded. Naturally, Blackadder took full credit, claiming his uncanny foresight was yet another example of his superior cunning and intellect - though some whispered it was merely blind luck, wrapped in an overly grandiose proclamation.

On the 11th of January, 788, Lady Lantsuinda gave birth to Edgar, the Duke's fifth son. As customary, the newborn was promptly examined, declared fit, and handed over to the ever-busy servants. The Duke, ever practical, saw the new arrival as another future tax-paying subject, and, of course, another potential heir to his ever-expanding empire of mischief.

In the very glorious year of 788, Duke Edmund Blackadder, ever the opportunist, once again set his sights on the neighboring lands of Cumberland and Bernicia. His raid was, as always, a resounding success, returning with a healthy haul of gold, resources, and, of course, an inflated sense of fame.

During the 789 raid on Cumberland, Duke Edmund Blackadder led an attack on a wealthy village, while Baldrick, carrying the Duke's banner, tripped over a cow and planted it in a pile of manure. The Duke, ever quick-witted, declared the manure a 'cunning strategic advantage' - though privately wondered if it was time for a new banner-bearer.

Pope Nicolaus, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on July 8th, 790. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Gregorius 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.

In the twenty-third year of his reign, Duke Edmund Blackadder, ever the master of bureaucracy, sanctioned the Municipal Charter for Edinburgh, granting the city official status. This new title allowed him to impose even more taxes and levies on the populace, much to their delight - or rather, their resigned grumbling. Blackadder, of course, hailed it as a triumph of governance and his personal treasury certainly agreed.

Lord Edmund Blackadder II, now of marriageable age, married Lady Leofflæd Eadwulfing, daughter of Chief Eanwine of Ilkley. The union, as expected, was less a romantic affair and more a cunning political maneuver, securing alliances and a larger share of Yorkshire's finest sheep. The wedding feast was memorable, mostly due to the unintentional role of Baldrick, who, in his usual manner, managed to spill wine on half the nobility.

In 792, Duke Edmund Blackadder and Lord Percy Percy set off on a hunting trip near Edinburgh. However, Lord Percy, ever the expert hunter - or so he claimed, somehow mistook the Duke's prized hunting dog for a wild boar. After a brief but chaotic chase through the woods, which involved the Duke, Percy, and the unfortunate dog all running in various directions, Blackadder returned, furious but surprisingly amused.

Duke Edmund Blackadder and Lord Harry Flashheart set sail on a diplomatic mission to the coast of Galloway. Lord Flashheart, ever eager to impress, took it upon himself to steer the ship during a sudden storm. His brilliant navigation skills resulted in the ship running aground on a small, uncharted island. After hours of futile attempts to free the vessel, Blackadder cunningly declared to have discovered the first island in the world with absolutely no strategic value.

In the year of our Lord 794, Duke Edmund Blackadder, displeased with Chief Madog of Glasgow refusing to swear fealty, mustered an army of 1,400 men from Edinburgh. The march was swift and, as usual, Blackadder's military strategy relied more on intimidation than tactical brilliance.

Duke Edmund laid siege to Glasgow, confident that victory was within his grasp. To everyone's surprise, Blackadder forces faced little resistance. It turned out Chief Madog had accidentally locked himself in the tower while attempting to escape through the wrong door. The siege ended swiftly when Blackadder knocked on the door and offered a gracious surrender. Madog, thoroughly embarrassed, agreed, and Blackadder returned to Edinburgh with both the victory and a well-earned sense of superiority.

On the 22nd of January, 796, Edmund Blackadder III was born, son of Edmund II and grandson of the Duke. As was customary in the Blackadder family, the newborn was immediately declared future ruler, though it was quickly noted that he was already much better at crying than making any political decisions. The Duke began preparing young Edmund III for a future filled with surprising opportunities to expand, mainly through clever tax policies and the occasional well-timed assassination.

Knowing that Madog's loyalty was as flimsy as his previous attempts at defense, Duke Edmund Blackadder cunningly devised a plan to eliminate him once and for all. The scheme was absurd in its execution, featuring a decoy banquet, a horse dressed as a noble, and a disguised Baldrick - as always, the least trustworthy of all. Remarkably, the plan worked, and Madog, believing he was heading home to a peaceful life, was ambushed and met a rather undignified end.

In the strange year of 796, Duke Edmund Blackadder proudly published his MAGNUM OPUS ON TRANSMUTATIVE ALCHEMY. Though his theory on turning random objects into gold was widely mocked, the book contained an exhaustive list of local resources and artisans. Completely by accident, it became the most effective tool for tax collection in Edinburgh. Blackadder, ever the visionary, declared, that Science truly is a gift - especially when it fills the coffers.

Lord Cecil Melchett passed away under circumstances that were either tragic or ridiculous, or actually both. To replace him as Commander, Duke Edmund Blackadder appointed his distant cousin, Lord Stephen MacAdder. The new appointee was eager to prove himself, though many suspected his main qualification was simply being the only relative Blackadder hadn't yet insulted beyond reconciliation.

As the seasons turned to 797, the fishermen of Dunbar made a remarkable discovery: vast new banks teeming with fish. Among their catch, the prized Atlantic salmon stood out, a delicacy sought after by both nobles and common folk. Duke Edmund Blackadder wasted no time in imposing a new Fishing Tax, ensuring that every successful haul contributed more to his treasury than to the fishermen's tables.

In the windy and uncomfortable year of 798, Duke Edmund Blackadder sanctioned the Municipal Charter for Jedburgh. While the locals celebrated their newfound prestige, the Duke's primary motivation was, unsurprisingly, the opportunity to introduce additional taxes and fees. Officials were swiftly dispatched to ensure that every cobbled street and market stall contributed handsomely to Blackadder's growing coffers.

A grand church was set to be built in Edinburgh, funded by wealthy merchants. Duke Edmund Blackadder, seeing no personal gain, proposed a better project: a fortified toll gate to tax travelers. The clergy opposed him, but when the half-built church 'mysteriously' collapsed, Blackadder called it divine judgment and quickly repurposed the stone for his toll gate, ensuring both salvation and taxation in equal measure.

As the final years of the 8th century passed, Norsemen took to the seas in ever greater numbers, their longships carrying both trade goods and the promise of swift plunder. Their growing presence along the coasts marked the dawn of a new era; one that would bring fortune to the bold, misery to the unprepared, and, most importantly, higher defense taxes to Duke Edmund Blackadder's subjects.

With the dawn of 801, Dunbar was granted its Municipal Charter by Duke Edmund Blackadder, officially rising to the status of a city. While the townsfolk rejoiced at their newfound prestige, the Duke's motivations were, as always, less noble. With city status came new taxes, fees, and levies - ensuring that Dunbar's prosperity would flow generously into Blackadder's coffers.

Lord Llywelyn, the young son of Madog, mysteriously vanished without a trace. The 'strange disappearance' left Duke Edmund Blackadder as the only heir to Glasgow lands. While the circumstances were deemed unfortunate by many, whispers of coincidence were swiftly silenced - after all, who could blame Edmund for being the last man standing, especially when the alternatives tended to vanish so... conveniently?

The relic of Saint Giles' head was entrusted to Duke Edmund Blackadder for safekeeping. True to form, Edmund quickly saw the potential for profit and cunningly introduced an entry fee to view the holy artifact at Edinburgh's Cathedral. While many hailed the Duke's piety, others couldn't help but notice that his devotion conveniently coincided with a new source of income.

On the 22nd of January, 803, Edward Blackadder, grandson of the Duke, was born. While his arrival was celebrated, few could have predicted that the child would grow to become another pawn in Edmund Blackadder's ever-expanding game of power, one where even newborns had their roles to play. In the meantime, the Duke simply took satisfaction in adding another male to his growing dynasty.

Lord Edgar Blackadder married Lady Balthild Eadricing, Countess of Bernicia. The union, while celebrated as a match of love and honor, was, in reality, a shrewd political move to position the Blackadder family for a future claim to the Bernician throne. As always, Edmund Blackadder knew how to turn a wedding into a cunningly orchestrated step toward greater power.

Edmund Blackadder 'the Just' died aged 50, clutching at his heart on June 9th, 803; leaving a legacy of conquest, taxes, and carefully crafted alliances. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER 'THE JUST' - DUKE OF EDINBURGH - HE CAME, HE CONQUERED, HE TAXED - AD DCCCIII.

dmurgell · Mar 20, 2025

CHAPTER II : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER II 'THE GREAT' - DUKE OF EDINBURGH, GALLOWAY AND ALBANY (803-828)

Edmund Blackadder II, son of the late Duke Edmund I, inherited the title and lands of Edinburgh, though his reign was marked by an extraordinary lack of flair. Famous for his unparalleled frugality, Edmund II would often reuse his tunic until it was little more than threadbare fabric. He was so stingy, even the rats in his castle complained about the food.

The first measure of the newly crowned Duke Edmund II was to appoint his brother, Edwyn, as Marshal in charge of the army. This decision was met with mixed reactions, as Edwyn's organizational skills were rivaled only by his ability to misplace anything of importance - such as his own boots, the castle keys, and once, the entire army. Nonetheless, the Duke's cunning ensured Edwyn was given the task to avoid any costly mistakes involving outside contractors.

The second appointment of Duke Edmund II was for his cousin, Stephen MacAdder, who was named Regent in case of the Duke's absence or incapacity. This 'incapacity' was, of course, always understood to be something far more serious than the usual Blackadder stupidity - like fainting after hearing the word 'tax' or accidentally starting a war by sneezing in the wrong direction. Stephen's main qualification was simply that he was less incompetent than the Duke's other relatives.

In the waning days of 804, Duke Edmund II embarked on a pilgrimage to Ireland to visit the tomb of Saint Patrick. On his return, he regaled his courtiers with tales of his cunning and heroism, claiming to have single-handedly driven bandits from the roads and fought a bear. Whether these feats were true or simply the product of Edmund II's ever-expanding imagination is left to the discretion of the reader.

The passing of Bishop Alan of Edinburgh, in an unpleasant incident involving a goat and a pig, left a vacant seat in the ducal council, much to the relief of those tired of his endless sermons on morality. To fill the role of Chancellor, Duke Edmund II appointed Lord Humphrey, Mayor of Jedburgh - a man whose chief talent was turning taxes into personal wealth with remarkable efficiency.

In the year 805, Duke Edmund II ordered the construction of a new hospital in Jedburgh, a gesture of apparent generosity. Naturally, the funds came from a 'voluntary' tax increase, and the building itself was conveniently located near the ducal tollgate. While the sick received care, the Duke ensured he never caught anything by staying a very safe distance away.

In the very miserable year of 806, Edinburgh prepared for a rare celestial event: a total solar eclipse. Scholars and priests debated its meaning, while Duke Edmund II, ever eager to prove his wisdom, declared it was caused by a giant dragon swallowing the sun. When darkness fell, he heroically ordered his guards to fire arrows skyward. The sun eventually returned, and the Duke took full credit, claiming he had frightened the beast away.

In the very rainy year of 807, Duke Edmund II, in what he claimed was a stroke of genius, attempted to divert a river to create a new port. Instead, he accidentally flooded a barren stretch of land. By sheer luck, the waters enriched the soil, making it ideal for oats and barley. Wasting no time, the Duke declared the 'success' entirely intentional and imposed new taxes on the suddenly prosperous farmers.

Duke Edmund II ordered the construction of Stirling Castle, claiming it as a strategic masterpiece in the County of Edinburgh. Actually, he just liked the view. Naturally, his subjects were less than thrilled, but they had no choice but to pay up. The project drained the treasury, but the Duke reassured everyone that future generations would surely appreciate the results. Although Stirling Castle eventually became a symbol of power, no one could deny that it also became the perfect setting for countless awkward royal meetings.

Lady Margaret, niece of Duke Edmund II, married Emperor Marachar Karling, a descendant of the great Charlemagne. The Duke proudly declared this a brilliant diplomatic triumph, though some suspected he was just relieved to marry off a relative known for her particularly forceful opinions on medieval fashion and table manners.

In the year 809, the sudden and rather unexpected demise of Bishop David of Dunbar occurred after a scatological incident with a donkey. His passing left the clergy in a state of mild confusion, though it didn't last long. In his place, Bishop Walter was swiftly appointed, much to the delight of those who appreciated his less melodramatic approach to church matters.

Duke Edmund II presented historical documents proving his rightful claim over the lands and castles of Dumfries. Naturally, these documents were as genuine as a dragon's toothpick, but no one ever managed to prove otherwise. The Duke, ever the cunning statesman, declared it a victory for justice, history, and his personal treasury.

Despite receiving the documents which claimed Edmund II's rights over Dumfries, King Onlaf of Northumberland, stubborn as ever, refused to transfer ownership of the land. Undeterred, Edmund II mustered an army of 2,200 men and set out from Edinburgh, determined to take by force what he insisted was rightfully his - even though the documents, of course, were as false as a Baldrick's claim to brilliance.

Lord Edmund Blackadder III, heir son of the Duke, married Lady Bride Caliu, daughter of Chief Girom of Føroyar. The union, while politically advantageous, was notably marked by Edmund II's continued tendency to avoid responsibility and make questionable decisions, leaving many to wonder whether Lady Bride was truly the bride of choice - or merely the best option on a particularly bad day for both parties.

During a battle near Dumfries, Lord Percy Percy met his untimely demise in the most absurd manner possible: he tripped over his own sword while attempting to charge and was promptly knocked out by a falling flagpole. In a move that surprised no one, Lord Humphrey Melchett was swiftly appointed as Commander. Lord Melchett, with his impeccable ability to make any situation far worse than it needed to be, was now in charge of the strategy, much to the dismay of the troops.

During the siege of Dumfries, Lord Baldrick Baldrick met his end in a tragically absurd way. While attempting to lead a daring charge, he mistakenly mistook a barrel of gunpowder for a barrel of ale and promptly sat on it. The resulting explosion was spectacularly unnecessary. In the aftermath, Lord Randolph Melchett, a man of similarly questionable intelligence, was promoted to Commander, much to the confusion of all involved.

Despite the heavy casualties during the campaign, most of which could be attributed to the sheer incompetence of Blackadder and his commanders, Dumfries finally fell under the control of Duke Edmund II, mainly due to the fact that the defenders were more confused by the constant blundering than by any actual fighting. With the city now firmly in the Duke's hands, the war was declared over, though no one was particularly sure what it had all been about in the first place.

Edmund Blackadder II self-proclaimed himself as the new Duke of Galloway, convinced that with Dumfries and Glasgow now under his control, the title was rightfully his. The Lord of Carrick, however, was less than pleased with this sudden claim. But then again, Edmund II rarely listened to his enemies - nor, for that matter, to his friends. In fact, the only advice he ever truly followed was his own, often with disastrous results.

In an attempt to soothe the restless spirits of his subjects, weary from absurd wars and even worse decisions, the Duke cunningly decided to build a hospital in Dunbar. Of course, the funds for this grand venture came directly from the new taxes he had just invented, ensuring that the people could both pay for their suffering and be treated for it in style.

Duke Edmund II sent his Spymaster, Lord Gregory Percy, to Amalfi to secretly spy on military technology. However, Lord Percy spent his time meticulously examining not the military innovations but the local culinary delights, particularly the famed Linguine all'Amalfitana, and the peculiar Italian fashion, investing large sums in acquiring new clothes and hats of - to say the least - controversial elegance.

In a divine revelation that conveniently aligned with his territorial ambitions, Duke Edmund II declared a Holy War against the heretic Fraticelli Allisander Orc, Duke of Albany. While cloaked in pious rhetoric, the campaign was less about saving souls and more about acquiring land, gold, and the satisfying thrill of righteous plundering.

The siege of Perth dragged on until fate - or rather, staggering incompetence - intervened. One night, a drunken soldier tripped over a tent rope, accidentally setting off a chain reaction of collapsing tents and startled horses. In the chaos, the city gates were left wide open. Edmund Blackadder II, ever the cunning strategist, graciously accepted their surrender.

The battle for St. Andrews seemed dire until an unexpected turn of events saved Edmund II's forces. A misplaced order sent Blackadder troops charging at lunchtime, catching the enemy mid-haggis. Choking on their meals and utterly unprepared, they surrendered immediately. Duke Edmund II declared it a 'brilliant tactical maneuver' and promptly raised new Haggis Taxes taxes to celebrate.

The siege of Scone dragged on until Lord Baldrick proposed a cunning plan: catapulting overripe haggis into the city. The defenders, overwhelmed by the stench, fled in terror, allowing Duke Edmund II to march in triumphantly. Declaring it a strategic masterpiece, he rewarded Baldrick with a pat on the back - and promptly raised a new Victory Tax.

The final clash at Atholl saw Edmund II's army outnumbered and poorly prepared - his standard procedure. Just as defeat loomed, a supply car, misplaced due to Lord Baldrick's cunning plan, rolled downhill into the enemy camp, setting off chaos. Mistaking the noise for an ambush, Allisander's troops fled. Edmund claimed victory, declaring it 'a masterstroke of strategic genius' and with this victory ended the holy war against the Fraticelli.

With the war concluded and his enemies either vanquished, fled, or too bewildered to protest, Edmund II triumphantly declared himself Duke of Albany, adding yet another grand title to his ever-expanding collection. Standing before his court, he proclaimed this a glorious new era, which, as usual, involved increased taxes, dubious policies, and an even grander signature on official documents.

Decreeing that St. Andrews Castle needed stronger defenses, mainly to keep his enemies out and his riches in, Duke Edmund II ordered its grand reconstruction. Naturally, the cost of this noble endeavor fell upon the good people of the land, while the rights to its tolls, markets, and lucrative dungeon tours remained firmly in the Duke's capable - and very much exclusive - hands.

During a routine inspection of the newly fortified St. Andrews Castle, Lord Humphrey Melchett, ever a beacon of military incompetence, mistook an open window for a doorway and confidently marched straight through it. The ensuing fall was brief, undignified, and very final. In his place, Edmund II appointed new Commander Lord Simon Bufton-Tufton, whose main qualification was having a name the Duke found amusing.

Lord Harry Flashheart met his end in a manner as flamboyant as his life. During an ill-advised attempt to impress the ladies of the court by riding a wild stag through the Great Hall, he failed to consider the chandelier. The collision was spectacular, the fall undignified, and the stag, unimpressed, trotted off unharmed. The court mourned briefly - then laughed for weeks. Lord Stephen MacAdder was appointed as the new Steward, mostly because no one else was foolish enough to accept the job.

Lord Edmund III, the heir son, was appointed as the new Court Tutor, a position he took with his usual mix of misguided confidence and baffling ignorance. By assuming this role, the young Edmund III hoped to endear himself to his future subjects. His lessons were a blend of confusion, contradiction, and utter nonsense - yet he somehow managed to maintain an air of authority, leaving courtiers pretending to understand. A truly cunning plan, or not, depending on how you looked at it.

Pope Gregorius IV, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on May 21st, 817. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Alexander II 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.

Duke Edmund II, in a display of pure cunning, ordered the expansion and fortification of Perth Castle. Officially, it was to defend against potential invaders, but in truth, it was just to add a bit of personal grandeur. The costs were conveniently passed onto the local peasants, while the profits... well, those were all for the Duke. Naturally, the subjects 'appreciated' the protection with great displays of 'joy' at seeing the tax collectors arrive.

As the year 818 unfolded, a group of well-meaning monks proposed building a hospital in Dumfries to care for the sick and injured. Duke Edmund II, ever quick to spot an opportunity, immediately took credit for the idea and graciously 'allowed' the project - funded entirely by donations. Naturally, he then introduced a Hospitalization Tax for patients, ensuring the hospital cured more wallets than ailments.

On the 27th day of January, in the Year of Our Lord 819, Lord Edmund Blackadder IV was born, son of Edmund III and grandson of the Duke, extending the noble Blackadder lineage. The court celebrated with a grand feast - funded, of course, by a 'modest' increase in taxes. The Duke declared it a momentous occasion, though some noted he seemed more excited about the new tax than the newborn heir.

Duchess Leofflæd Eadwulfing, the wife of Duke Edmund II of Edinburgh, died of poor health on June 22nd, 819. Her remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh.

In the Year of Our Lord 819, Duke Edmund II ordered the expansion of Scone Castle, claiming it was a vital strategic necessity. In reality, he simply wanted bigger windows to admire his lands. The project, funded by yet another Special Tax, drained local coffers, but Edmund reassured everyone that future generations would thank him - through even higher taxes.

Bishop Walter of Dunbar met his untimely and profoundly undignified end when he choked on a particularly stubborn piece of roast goose during a feast. The Duke mourned - briefly - before appointing Bishop Alexander of Jedburgh as the new Court Chaplain. The transition was seamless, except for the unfortunate scribe who had to rewrite all the official documents with the new name.

Pope Alexander II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died clutching at his heart on April 19th, 820. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Sergius II 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.

Edmund II was dubbed 'the Great' after an an exceptionally humiliating event. During a visit to Perth, a well-meaning but rather dim-witted carpenter built him a throne three times the usual size. Too proud to admit the mistake, Edmund II sat atop it with his usual noble grandeur, his legs dangling comically. The counselors and courtiers, desperate to stay in his favour, declared, truly, he was great - and the name stuck.

Edmund II, ever the opportunist, entered into a second marriage with Lady Annwyl Morgannwg, Queen of Glywysing. Naturally, this was proclaimed a grand union of love and diplomacy - though some noted that the Queen's substantial lands and wealth may have sweetened the deal. Edmund II, of course, insisted it was purely for matters of the heart...

In the year 822, through a spectacular bureaucratic blunder involving a blind servant and a mountain goat, Edmund II 'the Great' accidentally approved the construction of not one but two new hospitals - one in St. Andrews and another in Perth. Realizing his mistake too late, he consoled himself by introducing a new Death Tax, ensuring that while the sick might not recover, his treasury certainly would.

Lord Edwyn, son of Duke Edmund II, wed his cousin Isabella Blackadder, heir to the County of Bernicia. The union was hailed as a brilliant strategic move - uniting lands, wealth, and, unfortunately, a family tree that now looked more like a wreath.

Under the 'subtle' influence of his wife Isabella, Edwyn Blackadder committed the ultimate act of filial devotion - betrayal. Turning his back on Duke Edmund II, he fled to Bernicia, taking with him not only his noble title but also a considerable chunk of the family treasury. Historians debate whether it was treachery or simply a cunning plan gone terribly right.

To fill the rather 'unexpected' vacancy left by the treacherous Edwyn, Duke Edmund II 'the Great' appointed his brother, Lord Edmond Blackadder, as Marshal. Whether this was due to Edmond's military prowess or simply because he was the last Blackadder not actively plotting treason remains a matter of debate.

Lord Stephen MacAdder met his unfortunate end while attempting to collect the newly introduced Organised Crime Tax - a policy that, in hindsight, may have needed a second - or third - thought. To replace him as Steward, Duke Edmund II appointed his own son, Lord Edward Blackadder, ensuring that any future financial missteps would at least stay within the family.

In 823, Duke Edmund II 'the Great' decided to initiate the construction of a new castle in Atholl. The project was, of course, a masterpiece of architectural brilliance... or so Edmund II claimed, as the actual design involved mostly questionable decisions about where to place walls, towers, and a conveniently located treasury room. The construction was funded by the newly invented Fortress Tax, which the local peasants 'warmly' accepted... with a mix of resentment and resigned sighs.

In the magnificent year for self-help literature of 824, Duke Edmund II 'the Great' published his highly acclaimed MAGNUM OPUS ON CONTEMPLATIVE THEURGY, a collection of excuses crafted to avoid any form of actual work while feigning deep meditation on God and the universe. It quickly became a bestseller among the nobility, who also found it useful for avoiding meetings with their less-than-impressed subjects.

In the year 825, Edwyn 'the Traitor' gathered an army of 2,000 men to march upon Edinburgh. His bold ambition to reclaim his birthright was matched only by his utter lack of tactical brilliance. Duke Edmund II, upon hearing the news, reportedly choked on his wine - not from fear, but from laughing too hard. As it turns out, Edwyn's cunning plan was about as sturdy as a pudding in a rainstorm.

Duchess-Mother Lantsuinda, the mother of Duke Edmund II of Edinburgh, died bedridden and infirm on December 11th, 825. Her remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh.

In the year 826, Edwyn 'the Traitor' met his inevitable downfall at the Battle of Dumfries. His army, weakened by poor supplies, low morale, and a baffling strategy that involved charging straight into a swamp, crumbled before the forces of Duke Edmund II. Captured and stripped of his wealth - because treason is one thing, but unpaid taxes are unforgivable - Edwyn was sent into exile. Some say he left vowing revenge; others say he tripped over his own boots on the way out.

Construction began on a grand new castle in Berwick, a strategic masterpiece designed to secure the border of the County of Dunbar with Northumberland. Or at least, that was the official reason. In reality, the Duke simply wanted a fine new residence with an excellent view and an even better tax revenue stream. The local peasants, delighted to fund yet another noble folly, showed their enthusiasm by fleeing across the border in droves.

On the 27th of March, in the year 827, young Edmond Blackadder was born, grandson of Duke Edmund II. Courtiers immediately began debating whether the child had inherited the famed Blackadder cunning or the equally renowned Blackadder misfortune. The duke, ever the optimist when it came to family greatness and tax revenue, declared the boy destined for glory - or at the very least, a lucrative marriage.

Pope Sergius II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of complications related to Gout on June 15th, 827. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Honorius II 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.

Duke Edmund II commissioned a new chainmail armor, declaring it an essential investment in his personal safety. The smiths, eager to please, delivered a masterpiece - so heavy that the Duke required assistance just to stand. Ever resourceful, he declared it a 'static defensive strategy' and charged extra taxes to fund a squire for mobility assistance.

Mayor Humphrey of Jedburgh met his untimely demise while attempting to mediate a noble dispute — an effort as wise as poking a bear with a sausage. Lord Stephen Darling was appointed as the new Chancellor, mainly because he was the only candidate foolish enough to accept the position.

Edmund Blackadder II 'the Great' died a natural death, aged 57, on August 25th, 828; leaving his subjects in sorrow and many taxes uncollected. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER II 'THE GREAT' - DUKE OF EDINBURGH, GALLOWAY AND ALBANY - CUNNING AS A FOX, YET SOMEHOW OUTWITTED BY FATE - AD DCCCXXVIII.

dmurgell · Mar 26, 2025

CHAPTER III : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER III 'THE BOLD' - KING OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (828-849)

Edmund Blackadder III, son of the late Duke Edmund II, inherited the Duchies of Edinburgh, Galloway and Albany, and the lordship of a dozen other places he had barely visited. A man of many friends (and twice as many enemies), his reign promised anything but boredom - chiefly for those unfortunate enough to serve under him.

Edmund III, weary of Lord Percy's endless (and useless) reports on Amalfi's revolutionary pasta-cooking techniques, appointed Lord Alan Baldrick as the new Spymaster and sent him to Constantinople. There, Lord Baldrick's first cunning plan was designed to decipher whether the Byzantines were truly wise or just very good at faking it, but his results were quite inconclusive...

With Lord Baldrick thousands of miles away, Edmund III made a bold and revolutionary decision - by Blackadder standards - to centralise (minimally) the management of his domains. His main goal: optimise tax collection, or as he put it, ensure that his loyal subjects experience the joy of contributing to his wealth with the efficiency of a well-oiled pickpocket.

Lord Edward Blackadder, brother of the Duke, departed from Edinburgh for Luneburg, either in search of new opportunities or simply to escape another round of Blackadder family politics. In his place, Mayor Gilbert of Dunbar was appointed Steward of the realm - a man whose greatest qualification was that he wasn't currently running away.

On the 22nd of April, in the Year of Our Lord 829, the noble house Blackadder welcomed a new member: Edward Blackadder, third son of the Duke. Courtiers hastened to offer their congratulations, though some quietly speculated whether the realm truly needed yet another Blackadder scheming for power.

On September 8th, 829, the late Edmund Blackadder II was proclaimed 'Blessed' by Bishop Humphrey of Dunbar. Quite an achievement for a man who had been remarkably good at making a nuisance of himself in life, and, it would seem, no less in death. One could only hope that the Bishop had confused 'Blessed' with 'Irritating'. Still, Blackadder managed to wriggle his way into the annals of history - quite cunningly, of course.

Edmund Blackadder III, ever the man of convenience, graciously bestowed the County of Dumfries upon Lord Stephen Darling. Some might say he never enjoyed making the long trek to collect taxes from the distant lands. After all, who needs the bother of actual governance when one can pass the responsibility off to a particularly gullible noble? A cunning plan! - Blackadder surely mused, as his subjects grew poorer by the year.

Lady Mary Blackadder, daughter of Duke Edmund III, was wed to Prince Mallobaudes Nibelunging, Duke of Burgundy and heir to the throne of France. A most strategic union - if one considered 'strategic' to mean shackling oneself to a pompous Frank with more titles than sense. The Blackadders hoped to rule France; but they merely gained a lifetime supply of snails and existential despair.

Bishop Alexander of Jedburgh met his untimely end when, in a tragic misunderstanding of the Lord's Supper, he attempted to turn water into wine - while still standing in the river. Alas, the Almighty saw fit to let him sink rather than drink. In his place, Bishop Ralph of Dunbar was appointed Court Chaplain, proving once more that in the Church, survival is often holier than piety.

In the year 831, Duke Edmund III decreed the construction of a grand new castle in Glasgow. His vision was a mighty fortress to strike fear into his enemies and awe into his subjects. Reality was decade of arguments with builders, a budget vanishing faster than a monk's vow of silence, and a final result described as 'moderately defensible' if attackers are particularly drunk.

Lord Edward Blackadder, a seasoned commander with all the tactical brilliance of a headless chicken, met his absurd end when he led a cavalry charge against what he believed was an advancing enemy - only to realise, too late, that it was merely his own reflection in a lake. In his place, Lord Arthur Darling was appointed commander, proving that sometimes, sheer survival is the best qualification for leadership.

On the 1st of February, 832, construction began on the grand new cathedral of Edinburgh, dedicated to Saint Giles, patron of the city. Duke Edmund III declared it a testament to faith and piety - though most suspected it was merely a cunning plan to distract the peasants from rising taxes. The builders prayed for divine guidance; the accountants prayed for a miracle. Neither were answered.

The witch Aveline was burned at the stake before the good people of Edinburgh, her crime being the most heinous of all - correcting the Duke's Latin mid-sermon during Christmas' Holy Mass. Though she pleaded that knowing grammar was not witchcraft, the court disagreed.

Crown Prince Edmund Blackadder, heir to the House of Blackadder, wed Lady Æthelburh Wiglafing, daughter of the Earl Cuthberht of Derby. A union of great political importance - though mostly to Lady Æthelburh's father, who was delighted to rid himself of a daughter known for her piercing laugh and baffling opinions on turnip cultivation. Blackadder, ever the strategist, consoled himself with the thought that at least Derby had decent ale.

Duke Edmund III, utterly exasperated by the Lords of Carrick's unwavering loyalty to Northumberland, devised a plan to conquer the county. His cunning plan was sending in a battalion disguised as traveling minstrels, serenading the enemy into submission... Needless to say, the battalion was quickly intercepted by the locals and ended up entertaining the festivals of various towns in the area.

Pope Honorius II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of severe stress on September 20th, 833. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Eugenius II 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.

While the war for Carrick raged on, Earl Stephen of Dumfries met his untimely demise in the most ridiculous of ways - he was accidentally crushed by a mountain of overdue documents while attempting to file them in the royal archives. The weight of bureaucracy proved too much for him, literally. His son, Lord Kevin, succeeded him not only as Earl but also as Chancellor, and he was immediately put to work organizing a public funeral for his father, which was oddly more paperwork than ceremony.

Finally, after two years of absurd battles and even more absurd military plans - including an ill-fated attempt to conquer the castle using only sheep and an overwhelming amount of pie, Carrick surrendered to Duke Edmund III. The enemy, worn down by the sheer lunacy of it all, decided it was simpler to hand over the county than endure another round of 'cunning' Blackadder tactics. Edmund III, of course, claimed it as a victory for his brilliant strategic mind, while the rest of the kingdom silently disagreed.

Bishop Ralph of Dunbar met his end in the most pathetic of fashions - he was tragically suffocated by an avalanche of poorly-constructed communion wafers, which collapsed during an ill-advised attempt to recreate the Last Supper with a remarkably large and utterly unnecessary bread sculpture. In his place, Bishop Richard of Jedburgh was appointed Court Chaplain, though rumors suggested he was chosen primarily because he was the only cleric who could read a map and avoid the mess.

In the year 837, Lady Philippa Blackadder, sister of the Duke, married Gospatrick Cerdicing, Duke of Wessex and Somerset. The union was hailed as a grand political alliance - though it's widely believed Lady Philippa was merely hoping that Wessex might have better food than Edinburgh.

The witch Maud was burned at the stake for the heinous crime of predicting that Duke Edmund III's favorite hat would go out of fashion. As the flames rose, Maud insisted she had merely stated the obvious, but the court, ever eager to suppress dissent, decided she must be punished.

Lord Edmond Blackadder, brother of the Duke, tragically perished during a troop training exercise when, in an attempt to demonstrate his 'cunning' art of war, he accidentally charged headfirst into a pile of hay bales. His troops, not wanting to break tradition, simply carried on training as if nothing had happened. Guy Blackadder, his son, succeeded him as commander.

In the year 838, Duke Edmund III issued a new edict to centralize even more his demesne, claiming it was for the greater good. The real motive, of course, was to avoid the tiresome task of traveling to the various courts of each county, a duty Edmund III had come to despise nearly as much as his own royal advisors. The new Central Court, located conveniently in his own lavish palace, would also feature free food and no traveling - making it, in Edmund III's mind, the perfect cunning plan.

The first measure of the new Central Court was to send Lord Kevin, Earl of Dumfries, to the Isle of Man to search for ancient documents proving the legitimate authority of the Blackadders. Of course, 'search' was a rather loose term, as Kevin's true task was to create these documents with a quill and a very strong sense of historical revisionism.

In the year 839, a gathering of wise scholars in Edinburgh unveiled the handgun - an invention intended to improve humanity by making self-defense more efficient. However, as with most things in history, it eventually ended up in the worst hands possible: those of a Blackadder. Duke Edmund III, ever the 'cunning' innovator, immediately declared it a tool for diplomacy, though it's widely suspected he simply used it to settle disputes over the last piece of pie at court.

The witch Constance was burned at the stake for the heinous crime of suggesting that Duke Edmund III's latest cunning plan was, in fact, a terrible idea. Her only crime, it seemed, was an overabundance of common sense in a court that thrived on chaos and flattery.

In the year 840, Earl Kevin of Dumfries mysteriously disappeared on the Isle of Man while 'searching' for the historical documents to solidify the Blackadders' claim to power. Rumors quickly spread that Kevin had not simply gotten lost, but had met with a rather untimely end - most likely at the hands of those who didn't appreciate his enthusiastic methods of research. Lord Guy Flashheart was promptly sent to continue the 'search' - for documents, of course, not for his predecessor.

Duke Edmund III, ever the tactical mastermind, ordered the fortification of Roxburgh with a new castle to strengthen Jedburgh's defenses. Naturally, the plan was absurd and construction dragged on as workers dodged Edmund III's constantly shifting plans, but he still declared it a 'fortress of invincibility' despite its questionable construction and even worse location.

Edmond, the second son of the Duke, married Lady Waltrude Vuodi, daughter of Duke Magneric of Nordgau. It was, as all such unions are, a strategic move - mostly to secure more lands and, of course, more titles to add to the ever-expanding Blackadder collection. Lady Waltrude, however, seemed to view the marriage as little more than a new location to complain about the food. Edmond, on the other hand, was simply pleased to have found someone who could tolerate his constant scheming... for now.

At long last, Lord Guy Flashheart 'found' the long-sought documents. With this solid legal foundation, Duke Edmund III decided to lay claim to the Isle of Man, much to the displeasure of its current ruler, King Uuochu of Scotland, who was 'slightly opposed' to the idea; while the inhabitants of the island were rather less enthusiastic about the sudden invasion.

During the various battles for the Isle of Man, Duke Edmund III earned the nickname 'the Bold' - not for any remarkable courage, but for his audacious decision to charge into battle while wearing a giant, colorful hat he had found in a local shop. Believing it made him 'invisible to enemies' (due to its sheer size) he boldly led his troops, who spent more time trying not to laugh than actually fighting. His 'boldness' was really just a refusal to part with the hat, which he thought was lucky.

Finally, after a series of surprising and utterly unexpected victories, the King Uuochu of Scotland withdrew from the Isle of Man, handing it over to Edmund III. In a monumental misunderstanding, Edmund thought the King was ceding the entire kingdom to him. Without hesitation, he had himself crowned as the new King of Scotland by Bishop Henry of Atholl. The coronation ceremony was rather awkward, as the Bishop seemed unsure whether to crown him or just hand him a mirror to check for any signs of madness.

Edmund Blackadder III, now King of Scotland, granted the Duchy of Galloway to his always loyal vassal Lord Stephen Darling. It is rumored that he privately admitted that he did it so he would never have to return to Glasgow, the ugliest city he had ever known.

To thank Lord Guy Flashheart for his great task of 'finding' the valuable documents, Duke Edmund III appointed him Duke of Man. The truth, however, was far less noble: Edmund simply didn't want to endure the tedious voyage to the island himself. Lord Flashheart, ever the opportunist, accepted the title with a grand flourish.

In the year 843, a grand jousting tournament was held in Edinburgh to celebrate the coronation of Edmund III. Due to a Camp Fever outbreak in Rome, the Pope couldn't address the claims of the dethroned King Uuochu. Edmund III, ever the optimist, interpreted the Pope's silence as approval and declared himself not just King of Scotland but the greatest jouster in Europe - despite not actually participating in the tournament.

King Edmund III also commissioned a new Crown, Scepter and Ceremonial sword to commemorate his coronation. Naturally, he insisted they shall be larger and shinier than those of any previous monarch. The crown was so heavy he could barely lift his head, the scepter was mistaken for a battering ram, and the sword was so encrusted with jewels it was completely useless in battle - just like Edmund III himself.

Queen Bride, the wife of King Edmund III of Scotland, died a natural death on November 27th, 843. Her remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh.

King Edmund III of Scotland married Flavia Paldolding, daughter of Duke Artemio I of Ivrea. Many assumed it was a strategic alliance, though others suspected Edmund III simply wanted a wife who wouldn't openly mock his royal wisdom. Flavia, upon arrival, took one look at Edmund's court and promptly declared that she had made a terrible mistake - but by then, it was far too late.

In the year 844, Glasgow was struck by a dreadful outbreak of Camp Fever. The city's finest physicians recommended their usual cure: bleeding the patients dry and rubbing them with slightly less diseased rats. Unsurprisingly, this did not help. King Edmund III, ever the problem solver, suggested burning down the worst-affected areas; mostly because he thought Glasgow was too damp anyway.

In the year 844, Crown Prince Edmund, aged 25, succumbed to cancer - though he stubbornly insisted he was actually an Aquarius, based on his birth date. His physicians, unsure whether to correct him or just let nature take its course, chose the latter. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. With his passing without any son, his younger brother Edmond was declared heir of Scotland, plunging the kingdom into collective despair.

On April 8th, 845 Crown Prince Edmond's first son was born and named Edmund IV, taking the ordinal of his late uncle, who had passed the year before without ever having become the head of the dynasty. Courtiers politely refrained from mentioning that naming heirs Edmund seemed to be a curse rather than a tribute. The kingdom braced itself for yet another Blackadder misadventure, while astrologers debated whether the child's fate was written in the stars - or just doomed by his family name.

In the year 846, Edinburgh witnessed one of the most farcical legal cases in its history. A local scribe, Geoffrey of Leith, was accused of forging documents, an irony not lost on the court, given that the entire kingdom of Edmund III now rested on similarly 'discovered' papers. When questioned, Geoffrey insisted he was merely following royal precedent. The judge, unable to refute this, sentenced him to exile - but only as far as the nearest tavern.

In the year 847, the great Camp Fever epidemic was finally declared over. The kingdom rejoiced, not so much for the end of the plague, but because trade could resume, and the royal treasury could stop hemorrhaging coin. King Edmund III, ever the statesman, proclaimed it a victory of his wise leadership, conveniently ignoring that his only contribution had been suggesting more fires. The people celebrated cautiously, knowing that with a Blackadder in charge, disaster was never far off.

In the year 848, Bishop Richard of Jedburgh passed away under mysterious circumstances - which, in true Blackadder fashion, meant he likely tripped over his own robes and fell into a vat of sacramental wine. He was succeeded by Bishop Arnold of Edinburgh as the new Court Chaplain. Bishop Arnold, upon hearing of his appointment, sighed deeply, made the sign of the cross, and muttered: Lord, give me strength... and possibly a helmet.

On April 28th, 849 Edmond, grandson of King Edmund III, was born. As the second grandson, he was not expected to inherit the throne - in principle. However, given the Blackadder court's recent track record of unexpected deaths, courtiers began taking bets on how long the current heir would last. The odds weren't looking good...

Edmund Blackadder III died, aged 53, of complications related to Gout on October, 3rd 849; leaving great sorrow in the kingdom - not so much because of his death but because the heir seemed even worse. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER III 'THE BOLD' - KING OF SCOTLAND - PROOF THAT SHEER CONFUSION CAN SOMETIMES BE MISTAKEN FOR LEADERSHIP - AD DCCCXLIX.

dmurgell · Apr 2, 2025

CHAPTER IV : LORD EDMOND BLACKADDER I - KING OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (849-869)

Lord Edmond Blackadder, son of the late King Edmund III, was the next on the succession line. A man of great - but apparently very hidden - virtues and with the diplomacy of a kick in the private parts, his reign promised new heights of 'success and greatness' surpassing those of his predecessors.

In an extravagant ceremony on December 12th, 849 Pope Eugenius II proclaimed Edmond Blackadder as King of Scotland before God and men (but mostly before a well-filled papal treasury). The Pope graciously overlooked the claims of King Uuochu, who still ruled the Highlands and Hebrides, in exchange for a modest donation. Edmond, ever the statesman, called it divine will - everyone else called it bribery with extra steps.

King Edmond's first royal act was to appoint Bishop Peter of Jedburgh as Spymaster - because, clearly, nothing says 'master of espionage' like a man in ornate robes who smells of incense. He was promptly sent to Constantinople to report on Byzantine advancements. How a Scottish bishop was meant to blend in at the imperial court remained unclear, but Edmond had a cunning plan - which, as always, meant disaster was imminent.

The next appointment went to Lord Stephen Darling, Duke of Galloway, who was named Regent in case of the king's incapacity. Given Edmond's talent for accidental disasters, courtiers began quietly preparing for Darling's inevitable rule. When asked why he chose Stephen, Edmond replied Lord Darling was too dull to plot against the King. A rare moment of self-awareness; or just another cunningly misguided decision?

In a 'skillful and surprising' diplomatic move, King Edmond granted the Duchy of Albany to Lord Arthur Baldrick - mostly because he was utterly fed up with seeing Lord Baldrick at court every day. This way, he would only have to endure him once a year at royal gatherings.

In the year 850, to celebrate his coronation, King Edmond hosted a Grand Tournament in Edinburgh, featuring all the lords of the realm. The event was a spectacle of chivalry, skill, and deeply questionable sportsmanship. King Edmond himself declined to compete, citing 'an old war injury' - which was news to everyone, since his only 'battle wound' was a papercut from signing suspiciously convenient royal decrees.

In the year 851, King Edmond ordered the construction of a grand new castle at Holyrood, intended as his summer residence. When asked why he needed yet another castle, he explained that winters in Edinburgh were too cold, while summers in Edinburgh were also too cold, but from a slightly different direction. Courtiers suspected the real reason was simply to get away from Lord Bufton-Tufton.

In the year 852, Bishop Arnold of Edinburgh tragically passed away - though some say it was less 'tragic' and more inevitable, given his habit of sampling every sacramental wine personally. He was succeeded by Bishop Lionel, both as head of the diocese and as Court Chaplain. Upon hearing the news, King Edmond's only remark was if Lionel knew how to hold a goblet without falling over.

In an utterly absurd attempt to alter the course of the Water of Leith, King Edmond's engineers managed to accidentally expand Edinburgh's port, increasing available dock space by 50%. When asked if this was part of a cunning plan, King Edmond confidently nodded - though historians suspect he only realized the benefit after the river refused to obey royal decrees.

On October 28, 852, Prince Edward, third son of King Edmond, was born. Courtiers immediately began placing bets on how long he would survive in the Blackadder family tradition of suspiciously early deaths.

In the grim year of 853, a devastating outbreak of Camp Fever was declared in Glasgow, spreading rapidly through the kingdom. King Edmond, upon hearing the news, immediately took bold action - by not going anywhere near Glasgow. Instead, he sent his trusted physicians (also known as 'anyone he could do without') to investigate the situation, which, in true Blackadder fashion, meant running away at the first cough.

King Edmond of Scotland made a pious pilgrimage to Santiago in Hispania, citing deep spiritual devotion - though most suspected it was just an excuse for an extended holiday far from the plague-ridden streets of Edinburgh. Upon arrival, he was reportedly disappointed to learn that pilgrimage involved more walking and less lavish feasting than he had anticipated.

In the year 854, Oblatus Chlodomer of the Dominican Order met a most mysterious end, falling headfirst and hitting a cobblestone three times in a row. Stranger still, the Nail of the True Cross he had safeguarded vanished the very same night. Mere weeks later, a 'generous anonymous donor' presented King Edmond with a remarkably similar holy relic. Naturally, any suggestion of foul play was dismissed as heretical nonsense.

In the year 855, King Edmond I granted the Municipal Charter to Rushen on the Isle of Man, declaring it a great and prosperous city. This came as quite a surprise to the actual residents, who had never considered their collection of fishing huts and sheep pens to be a thriving metropolis. Historians suspect Edmond's decision was largely influenced by the quality of Rushen's ale.

In the year 856, the Camp Fever epidemic was officially declared over. The people of Glasgow rejoiced - mainly those who had survived. Upon hearing the news, Edmond I remarked this was splendid news and he could visit Glasgow next year. Or perhaps the year after. Or actually never.

In the year 857, King Edmond I approved the construction of a Sick House in Edinburgh to improve medical care - though cynics noted it was simply a place to hide the sick rather than heal them.

In that same year 857, Stage I of St. Giles' Cathedral was finally completed, a triumph of architecture and faith - and severe budget overruns. To mark the occasion, the Dominican Order presented Edmond I with a holy relic: a finger of St. Dominic. Rumors that the saint had had at least twelve fingers, given the sheer number of relics across Europe, were dismissed as irreverent nitpicking.

After two 'politely ignored invitations' to swear vassalage, King Edmond I devised a brilliantly cunning plan to persuade Queen Maelmurie of Moray - by conquering Aberdeen. Clearly, diplomacy had failed, so massive destruction was the next logical step. A 'glorious' army of 4,500 men marched from Edinburgh, confident that geography, strategy, and common sense would not stand in their way.

After several 'stunning' Blackadder victories on the battlefield - and the 'entirely unexpected' demise of Queen Maelmurie (in a strange incident with a flock of stampeding sheep) - her son, Ciniod II, wisely decided that resistance was futile. Accepting both fate and a very sharp ultimatum, he retired to the Shetland Islands and surrendered Aberdeen to King Edmond I, who graciously accepted, declaring that 'diplomacy' won once again.

Crown Prince Edmund Blackadder married Cristin Brycheiniog, daughter of King Gwrfoddw of Leinster, in what was described as a strategic alliance - though historians suspect it was mostly to secure a lifetime supply of excellent Irish ale. The ceremony was lavish, the feast legendary, and by the end of the night, the groom was unsure if he had married Cristin or just her dowry.

In the year 859, a magnificent Reliquary was completed to house the sacred head of St. Giles inside the new cathedral. Crafted with gold, silver, and just a hint of royal impatience, it was declared a masterpiece of devotion. Upon seeing it, King Edmond I remarked it was splendid and should be completed with the rest of him - prompting nervous whispers among the clergy.

On September 28th, 860, Edwyn, fourth son of King Edmond I, was born. Courtiers politely pretended to be excited, though many whispered yet another spare heir in case the first three broke.

Pope Eugenius II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on December 15th, 860. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Gregorius V 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.

Pope Gregorius V, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of Camp Fever on June 28th, 861. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Alexander 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.

In 861, Catacombs were excavated beneath St. Giles' Cathedral to serve as the new Blackadder Mausoleum. The remains of ancestors were solemnly relocated, though some less-than-complete skeletons caused much confusion.

King Edmond and Lord Baldrick were invited to the coronation of Irb Circinn, the new King of Austrasia, in Portois. Edmond saw this as a grand diplomatic opportunity, while Baldrick saw it as a chance to sample foreign turnips. Upon arrival, Edmond whispered, 'Remember, Baldrick, we're here to impress.' to which Baldrick replied, 'Then you'd best not open your mouth, my lord.'

In the year 862, a Leper Colony was established in Edinburgh - officially to provide care and isolation, but mostly to keep the afflicted far away from the palace.

On April 2nd, 862, the birth of Edmund, first son of Crown Prince Edmund, was announced. If fate did not intervene - as it so often did in the Blackadder lineage - he would become Edmund V. Upon hearing the news, King Edmond sighed, 'Another Edmund? We really must get more creative with names.' Meanwhile, courtiers quietly began placing bets on which Edmund would outlive the others.

Four years after its conquest, the castle of Aberdeen was finally rebuilt. King Edmond, upon seeing the completed fortress, declared it indeed was a stronghold worthy of his rule. The master builder, however, mumbled something about the four years of unpaid labour.

With the tragic - and especially painful - death of Lord Guy Blackadder crushed by a failed catapult practice launch, the position of Marshal was assigned to Mayor Gilbert of Edinburgh, a man renowned for his diligence, strategy, and an uncanny ability to avoid actual combat.

King Edmond I funded a Soup Kitchen to feed the poor and sick of Edinburgh. The initiative was praised as a noble act of charity, though some suspected it was merely to keep the beggars from cluttering the palace gates.

In the year 863, King Edmond I began feeling unwell. After several (and extremely unpleasant) medical examinations, the royal physicians concluded that he suffered from the same ailment that had claimed his late brother: cancer. Upon hearing the news, Edmond reportedly sighed and said 'At least it's not Aquarius this time.'

On the second day of January, 864, a new Edmond was born - the King's second grandson. Upon hearing the news, King Edmond I reportedly muttered about thinking a list of appropriate baby names that didn't begin with Ed-...

Pope Alexander III, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of complications related to Gout on August 20th, 864. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Gregorius VI 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.

Pope Gregorius VI, leader of all Catholic faithful, was killed by a wild beast on November 18th, 864. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Gregorius VII 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.

On September 2nd, 865, the King's third grandson was born and named Edward. Rumors spread that none of the names on the new proposed list of 'Names That Don't Start with Ed-' were to the king's liking...

In 866, King Edmond I ordered the construction of Craigmillar Castle, a new fortress near Edinburgh. Officially, it was built to strengthen the city's defenses. Unofficially, some claimed it was merely an excuse to escape the royal court's endless petitions, taxes, and, worst of all, Baldrick's endless conversations about turnips.

A new epidemic of Slow Fever struck the kingdom in 866, beginning in Scone. The disease spread at an alarmingly fast pace, causing widespread concern, though some courtiers speculated it was just a cunning excuse for the kingdom's sluggish economy. King Edmond I, ever the optimist, declared, at least it was not as fast as his plans to plunder the treasury.

In 867, Lord Guy Flashheart, Duke of Man, passed away. In his place, Lord Robert Baldrick was appointed as the new Chancellor. King Edmond was heard to say 'Well, at least Baldrick can't make the situation worse. Or can he?' The court collectively held their breath.

The always unpredictable and reckless Lord Guy Flashheart II, new Duke of Man, was promptly appointed as Marshal of the Kingdom, to the utter despair and resignation of the troops.

King Edmond Blackadder masterfully negotiated a non-aggression pact with King Frobert Nibelunging III of France. In reality, the agreement simply stated that neither would ever set foot in the other's kingdom, mainly because they couldn't stand the sight of each other. A triumph of diplomacy, ensuring peace through the sheer force of mutual avoidance.

Edmond Blackadder, aged 42, succumbed to cancer just as his late brother Edmund, on March 8th, 869; after twenty years of reign in which he was not even able to obtain a nickname. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMOND BLACKADDER I - KING OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH - HE WILL ONLY BE REMEMBERED BECAUSE HIS BROTHER DIED BEFORE INHERITING THE KINGDOM - AD DCCCLXIX.

dmurgell · Apr 4, 2025

ADDENDUM A - 100 years of Blackadder cunning rulership (769-869)

In 869 it has been 100 years since the arrival of the Blackadders to the government of Edinburgh. A century of 'cunning plans', absurd misunderstandings and fatal mistakes that have shaped the kingdom of Scotland.

The anniversary seemed a good moment to make a small summary of it all, with some screenshots of the game, as an addendum or expansion of the chronicles. We will begin, as it could not be otherwise, by compiling the main Houses of the kingdom and their most prominent members.

THE NOBLE HOUSES

House Blackadder: The ruling dynasty in Scotland, founded in 769 by Edmund Blackadder. Known for their tireless ambition and imaginative ability to generate new taxes, the Blackadders are feared by their enemies (not very much, though) and also by their subjects (who suffer from their incompetence and pay for their 'cunning' investments). Thanks to a skillful policy of arranged marriages, and overcoming a strange tendency towards absurd and unexpected deaths, House Blackadder numbers up to 70 members, 45 of whom were still alive in 869.

House Baldrick: Founded in 769 by Lord Baldrick Baldrick, they rule (with questionable degrees of success) the Duchy of Albany. Known for their excessive passion for turnips, they have always remained close to Blackadders, which is hard to understand given the Baldricks' aversion to personal hygiene. In total there are 15 members recorded in the House, 10 of them still alive in the year 869. Notable members of this House were Lord Baldrick Baldrick, who served as Commander under Edmund Blackadder I; Lord Alan Baldrick who was appointed Spymaster by Edmund Blackadder III; and Lord Robert Baldrick who served as Steward under Edmond Blackadder I.

House Flashheart: The descendants of Lord Harry Flashheart rule the Isle of Man, thanks to their skill with quill and ink in an exercise of historical revisionism. Known for their inordinate tendency towards reckless recklessness and crazy adventures, having them locked up on an island is perhaps one of the best ideas the Blackadders ever had. History remembers 24 members of the House, of whom 13 were still walking the world in the year 869. Notable members of this House were Lord Harry Flashheart, serving as Steward and Court Tutor for Edmund Blackadder I; Lord Guy Flashheart, who was appointed Chancellor by Edmund Blackadder III and provided documents to claim the Isle of Man; and Lords Guy Flashheart II and Martin Flashheart, serving both as Marshall under Edmond Blackadder.

House Darling: Settled in the Duchy of Galloway, the descendants of Lord Kevin Darling have always brought a certain etiquette and diplomacy to Scotland - precisely what the Blackadders cultivate least. Possibly for this reason, and because Glasgow is very ugly and the Blackadders did never enjoy visiting the area, they were among the first vassals to receive lands in demesne. A total of 23 members have been part of the House, with 18 remaining alive in the year 869. Notable members of this House were Lord Kevin Darling, appointed Spymaster by Edmund Blackadder I; Lord Stephen Darling who served as Steward under Edmund Blackadder II; and Commander Lord Arthur Darling under Edmund Blackadder III.

House Percy: Despite being one of the oldest noble houses, the descendants of Lord Percy Percy still hold no titles in Scotland. Some say the Blackadders value them so much that they refuse to let them leave court - others say they were simply forgotten when it came to distributing land. Over the years there have been up to 43 members in the House, with 31 remaining alive in the year 869. Notable members of this House were Lord Percy Percy, Marshall under Edmund Blackadder I; and Lord Gregory Percy serving as Spymaster for Edmund Blackadder I.

House Melchett: The descendants of Lord Cecil Melchett have always been noted for their military prowess (usually for the lack of it). In total there are records of 23 members of the dynasty, 8 still alive in 869. Notable members of this House were Lord Cecil Melchett, commander under Edmund Blackadder I; and Lords Humphrey and Randolph Melchett, both serving as commander under Edmund Blackadder II.

House Bufton-Tufton: Until now, the Bufton-Tuftons have been a minor house without much relevance in Scotland. There is still little indication of what the future may hold for them. At present, we only have records of 4 members of this dynasty, 2 of whom are alive in the year 869. The only notable member of this House was Lord Simon Bufton-Tufton, who was appointed Commander by Edmund Blackadder II.

House MacAdder: Distant cousins of the Blackadders, House MacAdder first record is of year 783 when Lord Henry MacAdder was appointed Commander by Edmund Blackadder I. A second MacAdder, Lord Stephen MacAdder served also as Commander for Edmund Blackadder I, promoted to Regent by Edmund Blackadder II, and later served as Steward for Edmund Blackadder III. However, the House went extinct shortly after, as they only procreated females and forgot to arrange matrilineal marriages.

THE KINGDOM

Once reviewed the noble Houses, I will proceed with a brief history of the Kingdom and its chronological expansion.

Lord Edmund Blackadder I started in 769 with a small demesne of two counties (Edinburgh and Jedburgh) that were underdeveloped, with peasants living in tribal villages and the presence of a Bishop on each county. In year 783, the County of Dunbar was annexionated. It was not until year 791 that Edinburgh could be considered a feudal county with a proper Castle and a City. Edmund Blackadder I annexionated the County of Glasgow in 795. In 798, Jedburgh also reached the feudal government with a proper Castle and a City. Dunbar prosperity allowed the upgrade in 801; while Glasgow remained as a tribal land for some more decades.

Lord Edmund Blackadder II built a second castle in the County of Edinburgh, the Castle of Stirling in 808. Three years after, he took Dumfries in 811, expanding his power in Galloway; and in 814 won a Holy War against the Fraticelli for the Duchy of Albany; adding four new counties to his demesne: Perth, St. Andrews, Scone and Atholl. All these lands had a tribal organization, and the Blackadders invested large sums of money and time making them evolve. Castles and Cities were built in St. Andrews in 815, Perth in 817, Scone in 819 and Atholl in 823. A second castle was built in the County of Dunbar, the Castle of Berwick in year 826.

Edmund Blackadder III finally could upgrade Glasgow with a Castle and a City in 831. He then conquered the County of Carrick in 835. He also had a second castle built in the County of Jedburgh, the castle of Roxburgh in 840.

Edmond Blackadder I ordered the construction of two more castles in the County of Edinburgh, the castle of Holyrood in 851 and the castle of Craigmillar in 866. The annexation of Aberdeen took place in 858, and its Castle and City were developed by year 862.

THE WONDERS

Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh

Devotion to Saint Giles has a long history in Scotland. Although the Bishopric of Edinburgh existed as early as 769 and there was a church dedicated to the saint, the construction of the Great St. Giles' Cathedral was initiated by Edmund Blackadder III in 832. Stage I of the project was finished in 857 under the reign of Edmond Blackadder I, who also added a Relic Tomb in 859 and the Catacombs in 861.

THE ROYAL PORTRAITS GALLERY

No compilation would be finished without a portrait gallery of the rulers. Nothing says 'power' as a beautiful portrait of the ruler at his prime displaying his success. However, it is quite difficult to really identify a Blackadders' prime or success, so portraits saved are the ones after their death (the only moment to be sure they can not make it worse).

This is the Family Tree of the Royal Blackadder Family, started by the late Edmund I, continued with Edmund II and III, in the center Edmond I and followed by Edmund IV (the only alive to see year 870).

Here we have the portrait of Edmund Blackader I 'the Just' - The founder of the dinasty.

Now please meet Edmund Blackadder II 'the Great' - Firstborn son of Edmund I.

Next portrait displays Edmund Blackadder III 'the Bold' - Firstborn son of Edmund II.
Notice we keep the ordinal based on the family and not on the title.

Here below introducing Edmond Blackadder I - Second son of Edmund III, unexpected heir to the throne upon the death of his older brother.

THE BRITISH ISLES

Although the Blackadders do not pay much attention to what happens outside their borders (actually, they neither do inside) there is a short overview of their surrounding kingdoms as of 870.

British Isles are divided in some not-so-small kingdoms, besides the glorius Scotland. North of the Blackadders' reign, some Pictish rulers still follow the old traditions and do not accept the modern feudal system. Highlands remain as the main target for Blackadders, hoping to control all Scotland in the coming years.

Mercia has somehow managed to control most of England, while Italy obtained Northumbria through an interesting royal marriages' policy. The Danes have arrived to the island and took some lands in Southern England and Wales.

Ireland remains divided between the powerful clans of Ulster, Meath and Leinster, while the Welsh of Powys managed to secure lands in both Great Britan and Ireland.

I hope you have enjoyed the 100 first years of the Blackadders' adventures, misfortunes and cunning plans; and continue reading the next chapters of this chronicle.

dmurgell · Apr 9, 2025

CHAPTER V : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER IV 'ONE-HAND' - KING OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (869-900)

Lord Edmund Blackadder IV, son of the late King Edmond, was the next on the succession line. Surrounded by enemies and rivals, the kingdom hoped his rule was not struck short by means of a dagger in the back - or by Baldrick's cunning plans' unplanned collateral damage.

In an extravagant ceremony on August 16th, 869 Pope Gregorius VII proclaimed Edmund Blackadder IV as King of Scotland before God and men (and a couple of disoriented sheep that lost their flock and entered the cathedral). To no one's surprise, neither the Bishop of Iona nor the Dukes of the Isles nor Moray attended the coronation, suggesting that the northern border would still cause the king some headaches...

King Edmund IV held a grand tournament, inviting all the great lords and knights of the realm. It brought great evenings of courage and honour to the city, and considerable profits to the brothels.

Edmund IV, in a 'grand gesture of gratitude' for the tireless service of his father's previous councillors, promptly dismissed them all and appointed an entirely new Council. Historians would later debate whether this was a stroke of political genius or simply because he couldn't remember any of their names.

Lord Edmond Blackadder was appointed Chancellor. Some claimed it was due to his sharp political mind, others suspected it was simply because Edmund IV wanted his brother busy out of the court.

Lord Arthur Baldrick, Duke of Albany, was appointed Spymaster. Some whispered it was due to his cunning and subtlety, but most believed it was because Edmund IV assumed no one would ever suspect a Baldrick of competence.

Lord Martin Flashheart, Duke of Man, was appointed Marshal. His strategy was simple: charge first, think later - if at all.

Bishop Lionel of Edinburgh was appointed Court Chaplain. His primary duty: ensuring that God, despite everything, still tolerated the Blackadders.

Lady Isabel Blackadder was appointed the new Court Tutor - primarily to keep her busy and out of trouble, as her previous hobby of plotting had become somewhat tiresome and inconvenient.

In 870, the epidemic was officially declared over in the kingdom. The joy was short-lived, however, as the tax collectors arrived promptly afterward; proving that nothing, not even death, could keep the Blackadders' thirst for gold at bay.

On September 8th, 870, the late Edmond Blackadder I was proclaimed 'Blessed' by Bishop Thomas of Glasgow - proof that divine standards had either plummeted or been heavily bribed.

Deeply moved by his father's beatification - and to try to save his soul in the future - Edmund IV went on a pilgrimage to the tomb of St. Patrick. The journey had some unpleasant moments, due to an 'absurd misunderstanding' between spending the night on the Isle of Man or with the man of the island... but what happened in Man will stay in Man.

In the year 871, Lord Arthur Baldrick, Duke of Albany, left the mortal world to meet his Maker - or not. His son, Lord Arthur Baldrick II, succeeded him both in the Duchy and as Spymaster.

Pope Gregorius VII, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on April 4th, 872. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Clemens II 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.

In the itchy year 873, a measles epidemic was declared in Edinburgh. The King took immediate measures of great political significance, such as the Royal Edict prohibiting scratching and the 'voluntary' exile of all those infected.

Despite his 'severe' measures, and the unheeded advice of his doctors, King Edmund IV was diagnosed with measles and confined to his bedroom. The question is whether the confinement was for his medical recovery or just to avoid having him complaining in the court at all hours.

Finally, after two years of itching and suffering, the measles epidemic began to subside. The populace celebrated happily — until they learned that Edmund IV had also recovered and was once again ready to continue with his royal duties, whatever that meant.

Crown Prince Edmund Blackadder V married Lady Gersvinda Welenti, daughter of Duke Seguin of Provence. Although the Blackadders thought they were going to enjoy the warm summers on the French Riviera, all they got were a few soap samples with a pleasant lavender scent.

After long and fruitless negotiations of annexation with King Ciniod II of Moray, Edmund Blackadder IV finally activated his 'convincing diplomacy' and sent an army of 4,000 men to besiege the settlements of Argyll. It's always easier to convince someone of your merits as a ruler when you destroy their defenses.

After several Blackadder victories on the battlefield and seeing the uselessness of the weak palisade defenses of the Highland settlements against the Edinburgh siege machines, Ciniod II agreed to a truce in exchange for the sovereignty over Argyll.

In recognition of his prowess and leadership in the Argyll campaign, Duke Philip Flashheart of Man was appointed Marshal. Malicious rumors spread that Edmund IV preferred to keep him occupied with the army and away from his wife's royal bedchamber.

The ill-fated year 878 took the life of Lord Edward Blackadder, the king's brother. A natural death caused by Great Pox, natural for someone better known in brothels than at court.

To compensate for his heartfelt loss, Edmund Blackadder IV decided to adopt a dog, which he named Hunter. Like the late Lord Edward, his favorite thing was sniffing ladies' crotches.

During his free time - something quite common for a king - Edmund IV had the history of his dynasty compiled in what was known as the First Volume of the BLACKADDER CHRONICLES, covering the years 769 to 869, from Edmund Blackadder I until when his reign began.

Pope Clemens II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of the Measles on October 26th, 879. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Martinus II 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.

Pope Martinus II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of the Measles on December 19th, 879. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Ioannes VIII 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.

In 880, the fortification of Argyll was completed. A solid and sturdy wall now protects the castle - much better than the ridiculous palisade that failed to prevent its conquest.

During the year 880, a change took place within the House of Darling. Lord Stephen Darling was called by God Our Lord, leaving his son Lord Nicholas Darling the Duchy of Galloway and the position of Steward.

Fed up with the the rude and primitive manners of his courtiers, Edmund IV decided it was necessary to bring a more feminine touch to his court. Thinking that appointing Lady Mahaut Percy would be the solution, he failed to realize that she had the subtlety of a stallion in heat.

Edmund IV earned the nickname 'One-Hand' after clearly demonstrating the sharpness of his sword blade by attempting (and miserably failing) to cut a rope while riding his horse. The rope, actually, had to be finally untied by a squire after the physicians took care of bleeding Edmund IV's forearm.

In the year 882, a gathering of wise scholars in Edinburgh unveiled the Radius Astronomicus, an invention intended to improve humanity by making navigation easier. Although Edmund IV could barely pronounce that name - let alone understand its purpose - he determined that it was undoubtedly his own invention and as such should remain in his possession. Everyone present agreed, especially after seeing the handgun Edmund IV carried at his belt.

Pope Ioannes VIII, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on July 27th, 882. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Benedictus 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.

Pope Benedictus III, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of Smallpox on April 5th, 883. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Ioannes IX 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.

Lord Peter Darling, the man who could mistake a sword for a toilet brush, was appointed Commander, further confusing and frustrating the troops.

Most likely because of the above, Edmund IV decided that it was necessary to improve his protection in combat, ordering a new Splint Mail armor capable of stopping the cut of sharp blades, especially in the back area.

The Lords of Ross, in a skillful diplomatic move that allowed them to keep their heads in check, agreed to swear fealty to Edmund IV, who already had a friendly band of 5,000 soldiers ready to carry his proposal of 'political union for the common good' to their doors.

In a laudable attempt to revive ancient traditions, the witch Trutgaud Hardrading was burned at the stake for his heretical remarks about the limited intellectual capacity of King Edmund IV. The jury ruled beyond doubt that the outcome of 2 + 2 could only be obtained through black magic and the participation of the Evil One and the King was obviously not into that practices. Edmund IV's presence with his handgun at the jury debates had 'no influence' on the final outcome.

In a further demonstration of his appreciation for House Darling - or his utter ineptitude at choosing reliable strategists - Edmund IV appointed Lord Aubrey Darling as his commander, a man whose combat experience was limited to a scuffle with a child after school.

In 886, Duke Arthur Baldrick II of Albany decided to stop breathing. It is yet unclear whether this was before or after his son held his throat tightly for several minutes. Whatever the case, Arthur Baldrick III had to overcome the loss and inherited the duchy. Seeing the potential of young Arthur III, King Edmund IV did not hesitate to name him Marshal - at least he seemed capable of killing someone, if it came to that.

To maintain the uneasy balance between the Houses of the realm, and to keep him occupied and away from the queen's royal bedchamber, Duke Philip Flashheart of Man was appointed Steward and sent to collect taxes.

In 887, Duke Nicholas Darling of Galloway met his final end after trying to get home from the tavern. Apparently, the last of the 50 drinks he drank that night was spoiled, causing him to suffer a temporary state of amnesia, during which he forgot he couldn't fly over the cliff. His son, Lord Reginald Darling, inherited all his titles and possessions, except for the tavern bill, which remained unpaid.

After the years of truce agreed with King Ciniod II of Moray, Edmund Blackadder IV decided to pay a 'friendly visit' to Inverness, accompanied by 6,000 of his closest friends. In an act of brotherly love for his northern neighbours, he also brought along his entire arsenal of siege machines. There's no better way to show appreciation than to deploy your entire army in front of your neighbour's wall.

The inhabitants of Inverness were 'extremely grateful' for the generous display of military power Edmund IV had provided them, and after a few months in which no one would (or could) enter nor leave the settlement, they opened their hearts - and most important, the gates of the wall. Another example of the Blackadders' diplomatic skill, allowing to continue expanding their demesne in Scotland.

Believing they were requesting his autograph in admiration, Edmund IV signed the decree creating the Duchy of Moray and granting it to Lord Martin Percy. Thus, after various oversights and implausible excuses regarding the distribution of lands, the House of Percy was able to engrave its coat of arms over a castle gate in Scotland.

After 10 years of noble loyalty and friendship, the cleverest, most intelligent, and most capable member of House Blackadder reached the end of his days. Hunter, the dog, received a heartfelt funeral in the palace garden and was later buried by the lake.

Bored and with too much free time after the loss of his best friend Hunter, Edmund IV began plotting his new hobby: undermining the morale of his neighbors and expanding his kingdom. Caithness seemed the best option for this, and the weak palisades protecting the tribal settlement should pose no impediment - despite the manifest incompetence of the Edinburgh commanders.

Bishop Lionel of Edinburgh was called by the Creator, leaving our world in a final demonstration of Faith, trying (unsuccessfully) to evangelize some bandits in the forest. His place was taken by Bishop Reginald, who in a wise decision would only evangelize those who came unarmed to his temple.

Emboldened by the rapid surrender of Caithness at the sight of an army of nearly 7,000 drunken Scots, King Edmund IV decided to double down and marched towards the Hebrides. Some historians theorize that this was not a deliberate decision, but rather a confusion on the way back to Edinburgh. In any case, Blackadder's army reached Stornoway and laid siege.

On the ninth day of September 889, King Edmund IV's grandson was born, who was (predictably) named Edmund. Unfortunately, the child's health did not allow for much optimism and the sickly infant did not reach the first year of life.

Finding themselves surrounded by Blackadder's army (and by a lot of ocean water) the inhabitants of the Hebrides finally agreed to subjugate themselves to the kingdom of Scotland. A great victory for the Blackadders, which also brought a new gain - being able to get rid of the annoying Melchetts, with the excuse of giving them the governance of the Duchy of the Isles.

It seems that in the year 890 a troubadour told the legend of King Arthur to Edmund IV. Impressed by the story, he sent a search throughout the kingdom for a magical sword, because if Arthur had Excalibur, the Blackadders could not be less. A clever swordsmith took advantage of the opportunity and - for a not so modest amount of gold - delivered the sword Fury to Edmund IV.

The old and wise Bishop Uuirp of Iona, seeing himself surrounded and as the last independent county in the kingdom of Scotland - and without great confidence in the Savior's army - finally agreed to swear fealty to the Blackadders in exchange for being able to maintain the government (and taxes) over his demesne.

In the year 892, to celebrate the unification of all of Scotland under the cunning governance of the Blackadders, Edmund IV began construction of Stage II of St. Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh.

Another piece of good news was celebrated that year in Edinburgh. On August 9, 892, the King's new grandson was born - evidently was named Edmund. If his health held up and no assassination attempts prevented him, this newborn would one day reign as Edmund VI.

Duke Philip Flashheart of Man, in keeping with family tradition, ended his days in a reckless and absurd incident while trying to catch a swordfish with no help other than a rose and a heart-patterned bathing suit. His death, however, was not entirely in vain as it allowed the royal council to be reorganized. Duke Lionel Melchett of The Isles was appointed Chancellor and Duke Martin Percy of Moray designed Spymaster.

Near Dunbar, the locals began quarrying stone blocks to build their houses. King Edmund IV, always concerned and attentive to the needs of his people, declared the quarry an Essential Royal Source - and evidently imposed new 'fair taxes' on stone extraction.

After a royal visit to the Caithness settlements, Edmund IV saw islands on the horizon he'd never before paid attention to. 'Who lives there?' he asked... 'And how much am I paid to let them live there?' he added immediately. 'My lord, those islands are Orkney and are not part of the kingdom...' a squire replied - moments before having his tongue cut out. This is how the military campaign for Orkney started, and also the reason why the squires never spoke to their King again.

The scarce, poor, and unarmed inhabitants of Orkney were unable to prevent the Scottish invasion, and within a few weeks Edmund IV took possession of the islands and imposed compulsory rent on the lands, or as he cunningly called it, the 'Voluntary Contribution to the Support of the King'.

Gersvinda Welenti, the King's daughter-in-law, was accused of witchcraft, demonic possession, and adultery. The supreme judge, his husband Crown Prince Edmund VI, considered all three crimes abhorrent (especially the last one) before issuing his sentence: to die in terrible suffering, burned at the stake. A just punishment for the sins committed - and for being a cowardly unfaithful woman.

After the disappointment he had suffered with his previous wife, the Crown Prince this time preferred to marry someone closer to him - in fact, it is rumored they were much, much closer - and who was already residing at the court of Edinburgh: Lady Elizabeth Darling, daughter of Duke Nicholas of Galloway.

Edmund IV invited to court Lady Pale Coldhug, a pious nun who claimed to be from the distant kingdom of Abbadon. For a few weeks, Lady Coldhug and the king spent long periods of time talking and walking through the gardens, which the entire kingdom appreciated since everything was calm and no new taxes were introduced. However, during St. Bartholomew's Festival dinner, Lady Coldhug announced that her stay in Edinburgh was coming to an end, and she would be leaving at dawn the next morning.

King Edmund IV of Scotland was found dead, aged 55, next to a chess game, early morning on August 25th, 900. Physicians concluded that, due to the immense intellectual effort to sort the chess pieces by color, the king had suffered irreversible brain damage and died during the night, alone, in his chamber. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: HERE LIES EDMUND BLACKADDER IV 'ONE-HAND' - KING OF SCOTLAND - A HAND IS MISSING, LIKE LOGIC WAS IN MOST OF HIS ACTIONS - AD CM.

dmurgell · Apr 16, 2025

CHAPTER VI : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER V 'THE RESILIENT' - KING OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (900-917)

Lord Edmund Blackadder V, son of the late King Edmund IV, was the next on the succession line. A lunatic man who clearly was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, his military training could only bring more conflict and trouble with the neighbours - something the subjects of Scotland were already becoming used to.

In an extravagant ceremony on November 5th, 900 Pope Ioannes IX proclaimed Edmund Blackadder V as King of Scotland before God and men. The Holy Father and all those present offered prayers for peace, justice, and, if possible, a quick and painless change of dynasty on the Scottish throne - but it seems that God had other plans at that moment and did not heed any of their pleas.

Edmund V wanted to maintain the Royal Council that had served his father - actually, he didn't want to start making enemies within the kingdom. So, without changing any of the Council's seats, he appointed Duke Reginald Darling of Galloway as his Regent.

Lord Jordan Percy, a man who was always bored at court and didn't know how to spend his time, was tasked with educating future generations as Cort Tutor.

Lord Arthur Blackadder, despite his total lack of discipline and honor, was appointed Commander. It's always good to have a close relative in command of the army - or maybe not, given the Blackadder's tendency for treachery and cunning schemes.

Edmund V's first major work - just because it was already committed by his late father - was the Sick House at Dunbar. A demonstration of the Blackadder's kindness, now the dying would no longer have to be transferred to Edinburgh and could be kept in their native - and deadly - city.

King Edmund V held a grand tournament for his coronation, inviting all the great lords and knights of the realm. Although there was no doubt that Edmund V won the tournament, the question remained as to whether the horse or the rider was smarter.

On April 27th 901, a second son was born to kind Edmund V (actually, he was the third son, but the first one did not survive). As the family tradition demanded, the newborn was named Edmond, saving both time and costs embroidering of the name on clothes.

Before the end of 901, Edmund V fulfilled the promise made on the day of his coronation, and went on pilgrimage to Ternyllwg, in Powys. In fact, the promise was to visit the tomb of one of the great saints of Catholicism, but Edmund V chose Saint Idnerth, the one closest to home.

King Edmund V and Lord Baldrick were invited to the coronation of Galam Circinn, the new King of Austrasia, in Portois. A new opportunity to place the Blackadders preeminently among European royalty - which Lord Baldrick, with his usual cunning, managed to ruin spectacularly, when he tried to light a votive candle during the coronation and set fire to the whole chapel.

Upon returning from Portois, Edmund V summoned the Council to announce an important decision. And this time it was not about raising new invented taxes or changing the carpet in the castle. As implausible and strange as it may seem, the king this time acted as expected of a good ruler. Edmund V had made the decision that the northern islands needed to be invaded, and therefore, a fleet capable of transporting the army had to be prepared. Once all the councilors were at the table, Edmund V opened the session by announcing his plans and the reasons that had led him to make that decision.

- Noble men, after being informed by our vassal, the Bishop of Iona, of the existence of a land of ice and fire further north than we have ever reached, a large island where Irish monks settled hundreds of years ago, I have determined to take possession of it; in order to defend it from external invasions.
- But Your Majesty, wouldn't what you're saying, in fact, be an external invasion? - questioned Lord Baldrick.
- Of course not, you malformed rotten turnip - answered Edmund V with his habitual charm - we are inside the kingdom; we can never be considered an external invasion.
- Your Royal Highness - said Lord Darling - why do you want to go to a distant island that we know nothing about, when you can simply cross the Strait of Moyle and conquer land in Ireland?
- My dear Darling, I have studied all our maps, and in all of them the arrow points north. And everyone knows that, in a map, you have to follow the arrows to get the treasury, usually marked with an X.
- Uhm - muttered Lord Melchett - that makes sense, why would they place an arrow on the map otherwise? Although there are no X on our maps.
- Lord Melchett - sighed Edmund V - if there was an X in the map everyone would go there and steal my treasury. We have to read between the lines to find the clues.

Solved this first doubts, Edmund V started to describe his new fleet.
- It should be able to carry about 15.000 men, plus horses, weapons, turnips... this would be a huge fleet. And we must think a great name for the fleet, a powerful and brilliant name, bold but without being boastful, that scares our enemies but doesn't seem like a childish threat.
- Oh, I have the perfect name - said Lord Baldrick.
- Dear Baldrick, although I know for sure that I will regret it, in fact I already am regretting it now, what name have you thought of?
- Fleetwood Mac - Baldrick said, all cheerfully.
- .... W-what? - asked Edmund V, almost unable to process what he had just heard.
- Look, Your Highness, Fleet because it's a fleet, Wood because it'll be made of wood, and Mac because that's what all Scots are called. It's the perfect name.
- Baldrick, congratulations... - added Edmund V - ... Of all the stupid, nonsensical ideas you or your ancestors have ever had, this is without a doubt the most stupid and nonsensical. This name is so bad that not even a band of drunk musicians would choose it in a thousand years, and if they ever did, it would be so ridiculous that no one would hire them or listen to their music.
- Then, do you like it or not? - Asked Baldrick a bit puzzled.
- Why don't we name it The Invincible Armada, or The Great and Most Fortunate Navy? - Lord Flashheart suggested.
King Edmund V thought about it for a few brief moments.
- I find these names too pompous, Lord Flashheart, even coming from you - said Edmund V - In fact, they are as exaggerated and bizarre as if a presumptuous Spanish king ever wanted to invade the British Isles!
A great laugh took over the Council Chamber, for the idea of a Spanish fleet on the British coast was certainly most hilarious.
- I see, my lords, that as always, I will have to be the one to bring the good ideas to the council... - continued Edmund V - and I already have the name in mind; a worthy and appropriate name, that everyone will remember and will forever be associated with my success: The Blackadder Oceanic Army for Tactical Sailing, which we can shorten for convenience to BOATS.
The councilors exchanged silent nervous glances, until Lord Percy began to clap his hands.
- Your Highness, it is indeed a brilliant, cunning name. There is no better name for a fleet than The BOATS.

The Council Session was terminated after some more flattery in the person of Edmund V, and Royal Orders were issued to all ports and shipyards to begin building and arming the BOATS.

After more than a year of intense work, the ships of the new fleet were ready to set sail. Edmund V took command and gave orders to steer the BOATS toward Shetland, on what would be the first Scottish expedition to the high seas.

Faced with the arrival of more than 100 ships and some 10,000 men, the inhabitants of Shetland offered no resistance and the island was easily annexionated.

Once the BOATS had replenished its supplies in Shetland, this new port of call, Edmund V set course for the Faroe Islands, in order to secure a solid supply line for his operation towards Iceland. As happened in Shetland, the few inhabitants of the islands surrendered without resistance, becoming a possession of Scotland, among their traditional displays of joy and happiness by throwing stones at the boats docked on the coast.

The conquest of Shetland and the Faroe Islands, despite securing ports of refuge and a valuable supply line for the BOATS campaign in Iceland, presented certain inconveniences for Edmund V. Basically, his little desire to go there in person. But also the underdevelopment of the islands and their Pictish inhabitants, who still lived grouped in tribal clans. After much thought, he decided that he would appoint a nobleman from among the Picts, to whom he would give the title of Duke of Orkney, and entrust with the government of those cold and poor islands. The chosen one was a young man, named Paul, of a rather discreet profile, who could easily play the bass lines of day-to-day management.

So, Edmund V summoned the young man to Edinburgh, and in a brief ceremony, made him Duke.
- Lord Paul MacOrkney, do you swear to serve the kingdom of Scotland, your King Edmund V, and House Blackader faithfully?
- Yes, Your Royal Highness.
- Then, by divine grace, I grant you the Duchy of Orkney, a honour that you will have to protect with your life, if necessary.
The new duke remained silent for a moment...
- Is there anything wrong, Lord MacOrkney?
- My King, yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away, but suddenly I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me, now I need a place to hide away.
- Do not worry, Lord MacOrkney, I am not planning to invade again those tiny and penurious islands and revoke your title ... it looks as though you're here to stay.

And this is how House MacOrkney saw its fame and prestige increase, being considered one of the Great Houses of Scotland.

A Waldensian Uprising, dissatisfied with Bishop Reginald's evangelical labor, took up arms against the king. Their first victim was Bishop Reginald himself, who was murdered while blessing the young women at the brothel. Led by a peasant named Hugh, they also attempted to storm Jedburgh Castle.

Edmund V could not allow the murder of bishops with impunity - unless he ordered it - nor could he allow the assault on Royal properties or the horrendous crime of unpaid taxes. With the mobilization of Stirling's troops, the rebellion was quickly suppressed and its leader received an exemplary punishment: Hugh was boiled to death.

Religious unrest in Scotland slowed the campaign toward Iceland. After literally boiling the instigator of the Waldesian revolt, Edmund V resumed his objective and set his fleet heading north again.

In 910, the BOATS finally sighted land north of the Faroes. It was undoubtedly the mysterious island of ice and fire about which so little was known. The landing was not well received by the inhabitants, who were no longer Irish hermits but fierce Norsemen.

While Edmund V was fighting in Iceland, Duke Reginald Darling of Galloway was assassinated by a rabble of angry populace over taxation. His son, Lord Peter Darling, inherited the duchy and the uncomfortable position of Steward.

The long absence of Edmund V plunged his faithful vassal Lionel Melchett, Duke of the Isles, into a depression, eventually causing him to die of grief. His son, Lord Cecil Melchett, succeeded him to the duchy and to the office of Chancellor.

Edmund V, after enduring the harsh climate of Iceland - and the equally harsh cunning plans of Lord Baldrick - was given the nickname 'the Resilient' for his ability to overcome such adversities.

Pope Ioannes IX, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of severe stress on February, 4th 913. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Ioannes X 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.

Pope Ioannes X, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on April, 22nd 913. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Callistus II 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.

In 913, the House of Baldrick requested permission to build a new castle at Forteviot, Scone. Edmund V, busy in Iceland, did not want to know the details and simply collected the taxes for major works.

After a long conversation with his horse, who merely nodded and neighed, Edmund V decided to appoint Glitterhoof as Chancellor; the most loyal friend he had ever had - and the only one who had never made a fool of him so far. In order to be able to properly present Glitterhoof before the council, he also ordered a custom-made Ornate Steed Armor.

While much of the Scottish army continued to fight in Iceland, the Norse Anundr attacked Edinburgh. Fortunately, Nicholas Blackadder was able to repel the attack with the men who had remained in the garrison.

On November 20, 915, the king's first grandson was born, ensuring another generation of Blackadders on the throne. Needless to say, he was named Edmund and would reign - if there were no surprises - as the seventh of his name.

Distracted by the battles of Iceland, Edmund V paid not enough attention to the new 'cunning idea' of his Marshal, Lord Arthur Baldrick III. The plan, called Trumpets of Doom, consisted of attempting to collapse enemy defensive walls and towers by sounding war trumpets. The ridicule was absolute, and the expense in trumpets exorbitant. However, Lord Baldrick did not see it as a failure, but as a success without prize.

King Edmund V of Scotland died of Cancer, aged 54, on February, 14th 917. Born with an 'unparalleled genious' he was always looking for new problems to solve and new opportunities to tax. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: HERE LIES EDMUND BLACKADDER V 'THE RESILIENT' - KING OF SCOTLAND - HE FOLLOWED THE WISE ADVICE OF HIS HORSE UNTIL HIS DEATH - AD CMXVII.

dmurgell · Apr 25, 2025

CHAPTER VII : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER VI 'THE CRUEL' - KING OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (917-932)

Lord Edmund Blackadder VI, son of the late King Edmund V, was the next on the succession line. A fortune builder with many skills - most of them of doubtful use. He inherited an expanding kingdom and a nearly frozen army fighting in Iceland for the dream of a lunatic king.

In an extravagant ceremony on May 1st, 917 Pope Callistus II proclaimed Edmund Blackadder VI as King of Scotland before God and men. The ceremony was attended by Kings Vuodo II of France and Galam of Austrasia, not as a show of appreciation, but to personally verify that the infamous Edmund V was finally no longer in this world.

King Edmund VI held a grand tournament, inviting all the great lords and knights of the realm. Glitterhoof, the Chancellor of the Realm, ended its days on the tournament field, in a glorious death impaled by a cavalry lance. The fine steed was replaced by Duke Peter Darling of Galloway, both as Chancellor and as royal mount, but this latter proved impractical and a horse was used again.

King Edmund VI of Scotland made a pious pilgrimage to Santiago. The reasons for the pilgrimage were never entirely clear, although it was rumored at court that the king had expressed little desire to resume the campaign in Iceland and preferred to go south and enjoy the sunny weather... just to discover that in Galicia it actually rains as much or more than in Scotland...

On April 20th, 919, Edmund VI received news of the birth of his second son, Edmond. A bright and capable child - within the possibilities of the Blackadder dynasty.

The army of Scotland, commanded by Lord Mark Blackadder, was victorious in the battle of Höfn against the armies of Sæmundr. King Edmund VI wanted to make sure the Icelandic norsemen understood the message, and ordered having him hanged, drawn and quartered, before the survivors of the battle. A glorious moment according to Edmund VI - a grotesque image for the rest of those present.

King Edmund VI of Scotland, through deeds and character, came to be known as King Edmund VI 'the Cruel' - especially among the Icelandic norsemen, who also alternated calling him 'Son of a thousand milks and a horrendous mother'.

The year 921 was the last for our vassal Lord Alan Flashheart, Duke of Man. Bored of his insubstantial existence, he decided to explore the possibilities of human flight on one of the cliffs. The possibilities, in short, were zero. His son, Lord Albert Flashheart, inherited the duchy and the family's traditional recklessness.

Twelve years after the first landing in Iceland, the Norse resistance was finally defeated, and Edmund VI took possession of the entire island his lunatic father had dreamed of so much. To reinforce his news domains, immediately began the construction of defensive castles in Reykjavík, Höfn, Akureyri and Hvamm.

After 30 years of costly construction and minor accidents - not so minor for workers at heights without safety net - Stage II of St. Giles Cathedral was completed. Just in time to celebrate the Solemn Thanksgiving Mass for the conquest of Iceland.

On September 20th, 922 Edward Blackadder was born, the king's third son and the remote heir to the throne if all the previous ones failed in survival - something that could never be ruled out in Blackadder's court.

In the year 923, King Edmund Blackadder VI decreed it illegal for any inheritance to leave the realm - should a noble die heirless, the Crown would graciously relieve them of their burden by keeping it. As Edmund put it: Why let wealth rot in a grave when it can rot in the royal coffers?

Lord Edwyn Blackadder, brother to the King, married Duchess Irmele Berthilding of Baden - an alliance forged in diplomacy, sealed with awkward toasts, and remembered mostly for the three-day feast during which Lord Edwyn mistook his father-in-law for the butler.

In need of a governor for Iceland - and with no desire whatsoever to go himself - King Edmund VI recalled a young sailor he had met during the cold voyages between Scotland and Iceland years ago. The lad had dreamed aloud of owning a ship, ruling a remote island, and living wild adventures. He seemed perfect. A new young Duke was appointed, though with a rather strange name: Guybrush Threepwood.

In 924, a measles epidemic swept through Scotland. The Court physicians blamed 'bad humours' and too much porridge. Lord Baldrick suggested wrapping everyone in turnip greens. Thankfully, the Queen suggested quarantine instead - leading to fewer deaths and, incomprehensibly to Baldrick, no free turnips.

In 925, construction began on the central nave of St. Giles' Cathedral, aiming to transform it into a Grand Basilica. The King declared it a place fit for saints, kings, and slightly confused pilgrims; while Baldrick thought 'basilica' was a type of Italian aromatic herb and tried to eat the blueprints.

Early in 926, Edmund VI began experiencing itching and rashes, which he blamed on fleas. He ordered his chamber (and all the court ladies) thoroughly disinfected. Unfortunately, it was measles. Only after attempting to fumigate the royal wig did he reluctantly consult the physicians.

Fortunately, the illness proved mild and the king made a swift recovery - much like the general population, as the epidemic mysteriously vanished from the realm. A miracle, said the Church. Coincidence, said the doctors. Fleas, insisted the king.

To please the bishops – and because the cold draft from the open window landed squarely on the royal pew – Edmund VI funded a splendid stained-glass window at St. Giles' Cathedral. A pious gesture indeed, though some say it was more about keeping his royal behind warm than saving souls.

Crown Prince Edmund Blackadder, ever the charmer when it suited him, took Lady Margaret Darling, daughter of Earl Lionel of Carrick, as his lawful wife. The ceremony was grand, the feast excessive, and the bride radiant - though many noted she blinked suspiciously often, perhaps questioning her life choices already.

Duke Arthur Baldrick III, in a rare moment of what appeared to be piety, ordered the construction of a new church in Dundee, County of Scone. When asked why, he replied it was part of a 'cunning plan' to get Sundays off. The clergy were pleased, the peasants taxed, and Baldrick confused the altar with a cheese shelf.

A boy named Fulk claimed to see Jesus in dreams and rallied children for a Crusade. King Edmund VI, having once dreamed about a goat-bishop, was not easily impressed. Declaring Fulk a lunatic, the King refused to sponsor the endeavour - though he did keep the boy’s map, which made a lovely table mat.

In the blessed year of 930, King Edmund VI of Scotland launched a Holy War against the Norse king Anundr, aiming to 'liberate' Ulster. In true Blackadder fashion, liberation meant annexation, conquest, and a new tax on seaweed.

Duke Arthur Baldrick III met his end slipping on a trout during a ceremonial fishing contest. He was promptly succeeded by his son, Arthur Baldrick IV, who inherited both the Duchy of Albany and the post of Marshall. The trout, reportedly, was cooked in his honour - though some said it deserved the dukedom more.

Word reached Edinburgh that young Fulk and his band of would-be Crusaders were stranded in Genoa, patiently awaiting a divine miracle to part the sea. Days passed. Then weeks. The sea, displaying remarkable stubbornness, refused to budge. Locals began charging them rent. Fulk called it a test of faith; others called it idiocy.

King Edmund VI 'the Cruel' emerged victorious in his Holy War. Belfast and Derry were annexed into the kingdom, though Edmund insisted it was more of a 'generous invitation with swords'. Locals were overjoyed, at least until the new taxes on rain and mist were announced.

In the Year of Our Lord 931, Pope Callistus II called for a grand Crusade to liberate Jerusalem from the hands of the infidel. King Edmund VI, upon hearing the news, pondered deeply whether to stay safe in Scotland or to use it as a cunning plan to get rid of surplus younger sons and troublesome nobles.

Duke Peter Darling of Galloway, whose political acumen was only rivaled by his complete inability to find his own trousers, finally succumbed to the ravages of time. His son, Peter II, a man of even fewer talents and less ambition, was promptly installed as Duke, much to the chagrin of everyone who had hoped for a better future.

Duke Cecil Melchett of The Isles was appointed Chancellor, proving that doing nothing could still be a grand achievement. With his motto 'Why do anything when you can do nothing and still take credit?' he quickly became a master of delegation and incompetence.

Fulk, once hailed as a visionary child Crusader, was finally abandoned by his followers after the sea refused to part. He ended his days as a ragged beggar in the streets of Genoa, yelling dire warnings about the End of Days and preaching the Word of Jesus to pigeons, rats, and, occasionally, confused drunkards.

Pope Callistus II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died a natural death on February, 27th 932. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Urbanus II 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.

Pope Urbanus II, eager to keep the Crusade momentum going, confirmed his predecessor's call. He spent the following months preparing the campaign, primarily by sending out endless letters, making speeches, and perfecting his ability to appear deeply concerned while doing nothing.

King Edmund VI of Scotland died of poor health, aged 39, on March 9th, 932. Preceded by his lunatic father, his major accomplishment was not losing his mind. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER VI 'THE CRUEL' – KING OF SCOTLAND – CONQUERED ICELAND WITH HIS FROZEN HEART – AD CMXXXII.

dmurgell · May 1, 2025

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.

dmurgell · May 7, 2025

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.

dmurgell · May 17, 2025

ADDENDUM B - 200 years of Blackadder cunning rulership (769-969)

In the Year of Our Lord 969, Scotland celebrated two centuries since the first Blackadder slithered onto the throne of Edinburgh - an event historians still debate whether to call a triumph or a prolonged national prank. Two hundred years of cunning plans, dubious wars, unpredictable monarchs and an impressive ability to tax anything that moved (and several things that didn't). A dynasty built on ambition, sarcasm, and a remarkable talent for surviving both plagues and poor decisions.

Let us now cast a cunning eye over two centuries of triumphs, disasters, noble squabbles and architectural curiosities. We shall revisit the highs and lows of the Blackadder saga, survey the noble houses, marvel at their wonders, and glance at the sorry state of the wider world.

SPOILER ALERT : Being this addendum published before Chapter X, some facts described (849-869) have not yet been released on the Chronicle.

THE NOBLE HOUSES

House Blackadder: Scotland’s reigning dynasty since 769, founded by the ever-cunning Edmund Blackadder, has somehow clung to power for 200 years; defying logic, good sense, and basic governance. Their uncanny talent for making the worst possible decision is matched only by their gift for devising utterly useless plans and appointing the least qualified individual to every important post. Some say they’ve been the worst plague to ever afflict Scotland… others wisely add "so far" ... A grand total of 191 Blackadders have made it into the annals of history; 54 of them still alive as of the year 969, much to everyone else's dismay.

House Baldrick: Loyal servants, occasional advisors, and frequent disasters, House Baldrick was rewarded (or cursed) with the Duchy of Albany in 849. Since then, they've devoted their energy to two things: turnips, and, when absolutely unavoidable, governance. Their contributions to Scottish politics are mostly accidental, and their turnip-based economic theories remain thankfully untested. History records 88 Baldricks so far, with 41 still breathing, or at least upright, as of the year 969.

House Darling: After 200 years, it's still hard to pinpoint any particular skill they possess, beyond, perhaps, staying out of the way. The Darlings have ruled Galloway since 842, largely because the Blackadders find Glasgow distasteful and someone had to do it. Their legacy includes a baffling mix of mediocrity and endurance. History notes 129 Darlings, with 58 still lingering around in 969; most of them still wondering what it is they're supposed to be doing.

House Flashheart: Celebrated for their reckless courage and flamboyant idiocy, the Flashhearts have been conveniently exiled -sorry, entrusted- with the Isle of Man since 842, mostly to ensure their heroic explosions stayed far from Edinburgh. Chronicles record 95 Flashhearts, with 42 still alive in 969, all enthusiastically chasing a glorious death... or at least a dramatic injury.

House Percy: In spite of their tragic shortage of both wit and valour, the Percys somehow stumbled into the Duchy of Moray in 888, courtesy of Edmund Blackadder IV 'One-Hand' - who may have been distracted at the time. They now reside in Aberdeen, occasionally migrating to Inverness, like particularly dim-witted geese. Scotland has endured 179 Percys so far, with 73 still haunting Moray and contributing generously to its proud tradition of confusion.

House Melchett: Dukes of The Isles since 889, the Melchetts have ruled The Hebrides with a consistent record of mediocrity, ranging from mildly embarrassing to utterly catastrophic. Miraculously, a cadet branch stumbled into the throne of France, making them unexpectedly relevant by 969. Meanwhile in Scotland, the original line still clings to the wind-blasted rocks of the Hebrides, heroically battling cold, isolation, and the occasional floating cow. History counts 62 Melchetts, with 22 still alive and puzzling the Almighty by not showing up yet.

House MacOrkney: A Pictish house roped in by the Blackadders to rule the northern isles; as it was exhausting to deal with those tribes. Lord Paul MacOrkney was the first to be called Duke, and although he often missed yesterday when all his troubles seemed so far away, he did manage to get by with a little help from his friends. While no one remembers his policies, his bass lines remain legendary. A total of 86 MacOrkneys are recorded in history, with 30 still rocking (or at least wobbling) as of 969.

House Threepwood: The living proof that luck and absurdity sometimes can make dreams come true. Lord Guybrush Threepwood was a simple young sailor dreaming about havig his own ship and ruling a distant island with monkeys. But he was lucky enough to sail with Edmund VI 'the Cruel' in his campaign for Iceland. Since 923 the Threepwoods are ruling in Reykjavik (although no monkeys have been seen yet). This quite new house counts a total of 18 members, five of them already reunited with LeChuck.

House Bufton-Tufton: Frequently forgotten by the Blackadders, the Bufton-Tuftons remained as one of the less important houses of Scotland until 950, when received the Duchy of Munster after the Blackadders decided to take Ireland. 49 members have been born in this house so far, and 33 are not yet dead.

THE KINGDOM

A short review of the last century in Scotland, chronologically ordered, and started with Lord Edmund Blackadder IV (see Addendum A for previous rulers).

Lord Edmund Blackadder IV 'One-Hand' ruled between 869 and 900, and his main legacy was the conquest of Moray and The Isles, unificating Scotland under his rule. He also started the expansion into The Orkneys and ordered works of Stage II at St. Giles' Cathedral, but was found dead next to a chess game before completing his projects.

Lord Edmund Blackadder V 'the Resilient' ruled between 900 and 917. He knew about a northern island of fire and ice, and envisioned a large fleet capable to sail the most dangerous waters. The BOATS, as he named his fleet, was successful at conquering Shetland and The Faroes, and continued north to find fierce Norsemen in Iceland. Centered his last years on the Iceland campaign, Edmund V ended naming his horse Glitterhoof the first-ever four-legged Chancellor.

Lord Edmund Blackadder VI 'the Cruel' earned his nickname during the conquest of Iceland. His reign lasted from 917 to 932 and, besides conquering Iceland, he saw Stage II of St. Giles' Cathedral complete and expanded the realm by liberating Belfast and Derry of the Norsemen yoke.

Lord Edmund Blackadder VII 'the Holy' was in rule only three years (932-935), joined the First Crusade for Jerusalem and secured the County of Jaffa for his uncle. However, the king died of scurvy on the return sail and his toddler Edmund VIII inherited the kingdom.

Lord Edmund Blackadder VIII 'the Young' first 14 years (935-949) were guided by up to six regents, which gives an idea of the instability of the kingdom, and of the Blackadders in general. Once he turned 14, the king took full control and started an expansion campaign in Ireland. The chronicle of his reign will be soon released as Chapter X.

THE WONDERS

The Cathedral of Saint Giles' was started in 832 by Edmund Blackadder III, enlarged in 892 by Edmund Blackadder IV when he unificated Scotland under his rule; and is now being further expanded by Edmund VIII after conquering Ireland.

THE ROYAL PORTRAITS GALLERY

Continuing the gallery from Addendum A, here below you can find the Blackadder family tree, starting with Edmund IV 'One-Hand', in the center Edmund VII 'the Holy' and with Edmund VIII 'the Young' as the only alive in 969.

And the portrait of Edmund Blackadder IV 'One-Hand' firstborn son of Edmond Blackadder.

Followed by his son Edmund Blackadder V 'the Resilient'

Followed by his son Edmund Blackadder VI 'the Cruel'

Followed by his son Edmund Blackadder VII 'the Holy' who fought the First Crusade, died of scurvy, and left his crown to Edmund Blackadder VIII 'the Young'

As a bonus track, Count Edwyn Blackadder of Jaffa, in the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem.

THE WORLD IN 969

The Blackadders have managed to conquer all of Scotland and Ireland, as well as the northern islands of Orkney, Shetland, Faroes and Iceland. England remains divided, with a strong presence of the European powers: HRE, France and Austrasia. Local rulers of Hull and Mercia try to keep their independence. In Wales, the southern part is now controlled by Brittany while the north is still independent.

The Mediterranean powers of Hispania and the Byzantine Empire are facing the growing threat of Syria and the Arabian Empire. Western Europe is mostly controlled by the HRE, France and Austrasia, while Sweden is taking all the Scandinavian region. The Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem was created in year 935 after the First Crusade and has managed to resist several wars since then. Eastern Europe and Asia, too far for the Blackadders, are not showing yet a clear power.

dmurgell · May 24, 2025

CHAPTER X: LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER VIII 'THE PHILOSOPHER' – EMPEROR OF CUNNING AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (949-982)

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 whether it was due to his age or his tendency to throw tantrums at court.

Edmund VIII's first royal decree was a masterstroke of cunning: he named his mother Regent. A decision both wisely pragmatic and utterly childish, it secured his reign while allowing her to wield all real power — as mothers are wont to do.

In an extravagant ceremony on January 28th, 949, Pope Eugenius III proclaimed Edmund Blackadder VIII King of Scotland before God and men. King Childeric of Austrasia attended, hoping to leave behind his wife Joanna. But in Scotland returns were only accepted for sheep and defective swords — queens were strictly non-refundable.

As if fate hadn't already been cruel enough to Scotland in recent decades, a Smallpox epidemic swept the realm like a drunken bard at a banquet: loud, unwelcome, and itching for attention.

With vivid memories of mock battles at court, Edmund VIII boldly declared a Holy War against the Norse Haraldr Refr, who had seized parts of Ireland. Some said it was divine inspiration; others suspected he simply wanted to play with 7,500 real soldiers this time. Lord Baldrick was thrilled — no turnips were requisitioned for the campaign.

King Edmund VIII of Scotland married Countess Æthelburh of Worcester in a grand ceremony, where the choir sang, the nobles cheered, and the bride quietly wondered what sort of 'cunning plan' she had just married into.

In late 949, Duke Arthur Baldrick V of Albany succumbed to Smallpox, leaving the duchy to his heir, Lord Arthur Baldrick VI — bringing the Baldricks one step closer to defeating the Blackadders in the contest for least imaginative naming traditions. As Arthur VI was still in nappies, the position of Marshal went to Lord Simon Flashheart, who at least had mastered the art of using the toilet solo.

The Scottish army conquered southern Ireland with remarkable ease, largely because Edmund VIII and his generals had wisely stayed in Edinburgh, terrified of Smallpox. Bereft of absurd orders, the soldiers took Munster's fortresses without issue.

Lord Simon Bufton-Tufton, head of the most forgettable noble house in Scotland, was tasked with managing the new earldoms in Ireland. Thus, the Bufton-Tuftons rose from courtly obscurity in Edinburgh to despised dukes in the Emerald Isle.

The not-so-cunning Lord Lionel Blackadder, a distant cousin to the king, claimed the throne and fled to Regensburg to gather an army. Edmund VIII's first concern was pronouncing Regensburg, and the second was finding it on a map. After three exhausting weeks and tremendous effort, he began to wonder who Lionel was and why, exactly, he wanted the throne—especially when more comfortable chairs were available on the market.

In 952, Edmund VIII embarked on a pilgrimage to the tomb of Saint Adalelme of Melgueil, conveniently located on the sun-soaked Côte d'Azur. There he met several virgins, who miraculously restored his faith (particularly in the miracle of procreation).

In 953, the Smallpox epidemic ended. Edmund VIII celebrated with a grand tournament, inviting all great lords and knights — except those infected, who were courteously confined elsewhere.

Fascinated by science — and the thrilling prospect of dissecting small animals — Edmund VIII ordered the construction of a grand laboratory. Courtiers whispered that he sought knowledge; none suspected he would end up permanently altering Loch Ness.

On April 27th, 954, Scotland welcomed its heir, predictably named Edmund. Pope Eugenius III was summoned from Rome to perform the baptism — and to collect a hefty donation for his troubles.

While testing a new torture device invented by Edmund VIII, Marshal Lord Simon Flashheart died. He accidentally sat in the condemned's chair rather than the executioner's. The device proved highly effective. Duke Peter Darling II of Galloway was made Marshal, with strict instructions to first read the user manual for future executions.

In 956, Consumption swept Ireland, turning merry halls into echoing tombs. Priests blamed sin, physicians blamed air, the Irish blamed the Scots, and the Scots blamed the Irish. Edmund VIII blamed Baldrick. Baldrick, well..., Baldrick just collected turnips.

In 957, Edmund VIII launched a Holy War to 'liberate' Ossory from Norse Karl's hands. Local monks noted that the royal banners looked suspiciously annexation-shaped.

Once Ossory was under Blackadder control, Edmund VIII 'negotiated' vassalage with Leinster's Earl Algwyn by parking an army on his doorstep. The Earl graciously agreed — especially after being promised the title of Duke.

In 959, Edmund launched the final phase of his Irish unification: sending the army to 'open negotiations' with King Fíadchú Ua Néill of Meath, the last independent Irish ruler.

Pope Eugenius III died of Great Pox on May 22nd, 958. After a period of tense confinement, the College of Cardinals elected Pope Stephanus IV as Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Vicar of Christ, and Servant of the Servants of God (among other things no one reads).

Following Blackadder-style 'diplomacy' involving steel and fire, King Fíadchú's resistance crumbled. He was graciously forced into vassalage. Ireland now bowed under the ever-so-humble Blackadder banner.

Edmund VIII created the Kingdom of Ireland, confirming his expanding power with much ceremony — and heavily taxed feasting. A title that came with ceremonial gold torcs, uncomfortable robes, and absolutely no idea how to pronounce half the vassals' names.

In 959, Edmund VIII began Stage III of construction at St. Giles' Cathedral, adding a royal box: larger, brighter, and with plush, luxurious, and expensive velvet cushions. Naturally, costs were 'generously' covered by the newly acquired Irish vassals, whose devotion to both God and taxation was now being thoroughly tested.

On July 27th, 961 King Edmund VIII welcomed his second son into the world, promptly named — oh! surprise! — Edmond. Court wits now suspect the royal family owned only one name scroll and refused to pay for a second.

Edmund was invited to the grand coronation of Siward as Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire in Kaiserslautern. All went splendidly until Baldrick, attempting to light incense, accidentally ignited the imperial banner. The fire spread quickly throughout the palace, resulting in smoke, panic, and an impromptu stampede. The ceremony was hastily relocated to the stables.

In 966, Edmund proudly published his MAGNUM OPUS ON UNIVERSAL PANACEA, a hefty tome detailing bizarre experiments from the royal laboratory, including rat-based prosthetics and reptile hybrids with alleged healing powers. Critics called it 'visionary' while physicians called it 'a crime against God and nature' and strongly advised readers not to try any of it at home. After publication, the grotesque by-products were discreetly dumped into Loch Ness. Days later, fishermen near Drumnadrochit began whispering of a strange creature in the waters; rumours Edmund dismissed as 'utterly absurd and unscientific' ... though oddly well-timed.

In 967, Pope Stephanus IV began rallying support to reclaim the lands of France from Saracen rule. King Edmund VIII, ever eager to send others to war, expressed enthusiastic support, especially if someone else could do the fighting and foot the bill. But, due to diplomatic pressure (and well-placed bribes) from the House of Agilolfing, the Pope changed the Crusade's target to Constantinople, hoping to crown a Catholic emperor. Edmund VIII objected firmly; sending troops to France was one thing, marching all the way to Turkey was quite another.

With the army packed for France, Edmund made a 'slight change of plans' to pay a 'friendly visit' to Wales, accompanied by several thousand armed men. The local lords, ever fond of hospitality, graciously became his vassals shortly after the Scots occupied their castles.

Crown Prince Edmund Blackadder married Paykîlti, daughter of Duke Odolgan of Pest, a diplomatic union proving love can flourish between a melancholic Scot and a woman whose name sounds like a sneeze. Baldrick spent several months confused about Pest versus pests and was only reassured by the promise that it wouldn't affect his turnips.

The Crusade ended in 970 with the successful conquest of Thrace. Kaiser Emelrich Agilolfing was crowned as Latin Emperor. The dethroned Basileus fled to southern Italy in exile.

On 16 January 971, another Edmund was born: the first grandson of Edmund VIII and son of Crown Prince Edmund. Historians began to worry how many more Edmunds the realm history could bear before official records became unreadable.

After three years of 'amicable relocation' of unruly Welsh nobles, Edmund VIII established the Kingdom of Wales with much pomp, ceremony, and forced cheering.

A new castle was commissioned at Leith, near Edinburgh, either to bolster royal defences or avoid sharing a roof with his increasingly peculiar court.

On May 8th, 971 rumours arrived of a terrible Plague in distant lands. Edmund VIII ignored these news, as he had done with all previous reports about strange creatures in Loch Ness.

The Bufton-Tuftons built a new castle in Ennis, County of Thomond, large enough to impress neighbours, intimidate peasants, and have somewhere grand to waste their time.

The Hermetic Order unveiled their newest marvel: the Magnetic Compass. In a cunning move, Edmund VIII pulled a handgun on the gathering and secured exclusive rights for 500 years. 'Now who wants to check if the compass points to north ... or death' - he inquired. At that same gathering, Edmund was elected Grand Magus of the Hermetic Order after a speech about his handgun and a few accidental lead bullet kidney perforations that raised eyebrows and votes in equal measure.

On April 23rd, 973 word reached that Persia had been widely depopulated by the Plague. Edmund VIII asked if the disease could be spread via carpets. The doctors, understandably, had no answer.

Pope Stephanus IV died of cancer on October 11th, 973. After tense confinement, the College of Cardinals elected Pope Marinus; who shortly after died of the Plague on March 5th, 974. After more tense confinement, Pope Innocentius II was elected.

On May 23rd, 974, word came that India, Middle East, and Asia Minor were severely affected by the Plague. Edmund VIII lamented the loss of 'the Asian minor' — so young, she never knew adult pleasures. The Chancellor gave up explaining geography.

Through his eccentric experiments, unsolicited advice, and accidental wisdom, Edmund VIII earned the nickname 'the Philosopher'. Drumnadrochit fishermen, however, preferred 'His Royal MonsterNess' as epithet.

On September 19th, 974 the Plague reached Scotland. Edmund asked how fast it travelled and whether it could swim in icy water. The Marshal could not guess what cunning plan was brewing. A few days later, in a move some called cunning and others called cowardly, Edmund VIII relocated his court to Reykjavík. 'Strategic foresight' he insisted. The Threepwoods were not amused. Duke Martin Percy III, barely a metre tall, was named Court Dwarf to raise morale in the cold and dreary halls of the new capital.

In 975, upon the childless death of the Count of Jaffa, Crown Prince Edmund inherited the title. Whether this was an honour or a curse remained unclear - the Black Death there was far worse than any Muslim army.

Pope Innocentius II died of stress on December 20th, 976. Pope Honorius III followed, but he died of cancer on June 12th, 979. Pope Lucius II was elected — once more, after confinement and considerable hand-wringing.

With no new Plague cases reported in Scotland, Edmund VIII returned triumphantly to Edinburgh in 980. To celebrate his survival, he crowned himself Emperor of Cunning. The Drumnadrochit fishermen continued calling him 'His Imperial MonsterNess' with renewed contempt.

Edmund VIII, Emperor of Cunning, determined Cornwall belonged with Wales. Its ruler, King Slèbìne of Brittany, politely disagreed. Fortunately, Slèbìne died before battle. His cousin, the Duke of Powys, inherited both titles, and the annexation of Cornwall (and Brittany) proceeded peacefully. Mostly.

Empress Æthelburh died bedridden on September 27th, 982. A few weeks later, Crown Prince Edmund followed, succumbing to the Plague on October 17th.

Emperor Edmund VIII, depressed and alone, took his own life on Christmas Day, 982. He had ruled since birth, survived six regents, and outlived the Plague. Will be remembered for his conquests of Ireland, Wales, and Brittany (and cursed by the fishermen of Drumnadrochit). His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER VIII 'THE PHILOSOPHER' - EMPEROR OF CUNNING - ALWAYS AVOIDED THE LOCH NESS ISSUE - AD CMLXXXII.

dmurgell · Jun 9, 2025

CHAPTER XI : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER IX 'THE HANDSOME' - EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (982-1046)

Lord Edmund Blackadder IX, grandson of the late Emperor Edmund VIII, was next in the line of succession. Being orphaned by his father and aged 11, upon the death of his grandfather he was rushed to Edinburgh from Jaffa, where he had grown up. His early years were spent under the regency of Mathilde Emichid. A troubled start to his reign, setting the trend for the rest of his life.

Once Edmund IX reached adulthood, he married Lady Aethelburg, the young and still childless Countess of Lincoln and Leicester. Historians argue whether it was love, strategy, or simply another Blackadders cunning plan clearly designed to fold more English land into the empire and own all the sheep south of Hadrian's Wall. In the same extravagant ceremony, on October 16th, 985, Edmund Blackadder IX was crowned Emperor by Pope Lucius II. Though he lobbied hard for keeping grandfather's title as Emperor of Cunning, the Pope refused, reportedly muttering a prayer for patience, and officially crowned him Emperor of Scotland, to the boy's utter disappointment. Drumnadrochit fishermen, however, continued to call him 'His Imperial MonsterNess' although young Edmund IX did not understand why.

In 986, Edmund IX agreed to let the Knights Templar hold a castle in Beit Dejan, Jaffa, reasoning that if someone had to be attacked by Arabian Empire, it might as well be someone else. Delegation, after all, is the highest form of imperial wisdom. Later that year, he made a pious pilgrimage to Jerusalem - though 'pious' here means he got lost chasing a barmaid in Constantinople. After visiting Jerusalem, he remembered he was the owner of Jaffa; and graciously double taxed it.

Pope Lucius II, leader of all Catholic faithful, died bedridden on September 20th, 987 having mistaken a chamberpot for holy water one too many times. After days of ecclesiastical squabbling, bribery, and a suspiciously well-timed lightning strike, Pope Clemens III emerged as the new Supreme Pontiff, Vicar of Christ, Primate of Italy, and, judging by his wardrobe, Supreme Peacock of Rome. Baldrick claimed he too was in the running, but was disqualified after baptising a goat and setting fire to a nun.

Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland, through deeds and character, or rather a scandalously flattering tapestry commissioned by his mother, came to be known as Edmund IX 'the Handsome'. Lord Percy once tried to imitate his look and was arrested for sorcery, while Baldrick murmured Edmund's true title should be 'the Slightly Less Hideous Than the Royal Dog'. Drumnadrochit fishermen took it a bad joke calling Nessie the royal dog.

Duke Garivald Vuodi of Gwynedd peacefully accepted vassalage under Emperor Edmund IX. So peacefully, in fact, that only three of his wine cellars were mysteriously emptied, his favourite horse beheaded, and his castle accidentally caught fire. But no army was involved. Absolutely none. Just Edmund, a signed parchment, and Baldrick standing nearby with a torch and a suspiciously innocent expression.

In 988, Stage III works concluded at St. Gile's Cathedral; just in time for the grand celebration of Wales's unification under the Blackadder banner. The cathedral now boasted a new Royal Box, suspiciously flammable pews, and a statue of Edmund IX so lifelike it took Baldrick 3 hours to realise he was talking to a marble block. The Welsh prayed, and quietly wondered how they'd gone from proud independence to being vassals of an emperor whose idea of divine right involved cunning plans and double taxation. A couple of years later, Bishops wept and ale flowed when Edmund IX converted St. Giles' Cathedral into a brewery, justifying the divine renovation with the irrefutable logic that monks brew beer, sermons cause thirst, and God, presumably, enjoys a pint as much as the next Scotsman.

Emperor Edmund IX held a grand tournament, inviting all the great lords and knights of the realm; plus a few who just looked shiny enough in borrowed armour. There was jousting, feasting, and one unfortunate archery contest where Baldrick mistook Lord Percy's backside for the target. Lord Flashheart arrived shirtless on a flaming stallion, declared himself champion, kissed three duchesses and two bishops, and vanished before the first round even started.

Upon reaching adulthood, Gerald Blackadder, brother of Edmund IX, married Lady Anne Darling. As a wedding gift, Gerald received the mythical Sword from Heaven and the County of Jaffa; two things Edmund IX had completely forgotten he owned and found out just minutes before the marriage celebration. However, the most notable gift was a $400,000 turnip that Baldrick proudly placed on the altar, preventing the bishop from completing the ceremony.

Edmund, the firstborn son, was born to Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland. Being already the tenth heir with the same name, the jokes and humorous comments on this matter ceased to be interesting to the courtiers.

Whether due to royal benevolence, a clerical mishap, or simply an urgent desire to be rid of it, Edmund Blackadder IX awarded the City Charter to Uisnech, a soggy patch of Westmeath best known for sheep that look surprised and a turnip festival that somehow manages to disappoint even Baldrick. Months later, he also granted the City Charter to Donges, a tiny Breton village near Nantes, best known for cows that outnumber people and a distinctly unimpressive breeze.

On 9 August 997, in a moment of historic disappointment, Edmund Blackadder welcomed his second son, Edmond; a boy so bafflingly dull even the midwife pondered a career change. He's quite a Blackadder - muttered Lord Percy - being wrapped in nappies, destined for a life of mild mediocrity and occasional burping.

On 6 April 999, Pope Clemens III, leader of all Catholic faithful and occasional wearer of spectacular hats, died a natural death, much to the clergy's relief, who had feared another fiery sermon. He was succeeded by Pope Eugenius IV, a man whose greatest ambition was less divine revelation, more improving the church's tea selection.

Emperor Edmund Blackadder IX, in a decision that baffled historians and delighted local sheep, granted the City Charter to Dingwall, a village so obscure even the maps refused to acknowledge it, prompting Lord Percy, Duke of Moray, to discover it was on his estate only when his tax bill doubled under something called 'Royal City Maintenance' which seemed to involve more manure than maintenance.

To commemorate the Year 1000, in what critics described as either divine inspiration or architectural revenge, Edmund IX 'the Handsome' ordered the expansion of St. Giles' Cathedral, declaring that nothing says millennium like more stone, while architects wept into their blueprints and wondered how to build a spire taller than the Emperor's ego.

Displaying his usual fiscal finesse, that same year Edmund shelled out 3,000 gold coins on a ludicrously shiny suit of armor he named Immortal, which was allegedly enchanted to protect him from death... or at the very least, ensure he'd be too dazzling a target to shoot at until he could gallop away screaming.

Possibly moved by divine compassion or just a badly mixed sherry, Edmund funded a chapel for Edinburgh's hospital, claiming it was for the spiritual wellbeing of the limbless; critics, however, suspected it was less salvation and more tax evasion. Baldrick was banned for 'miraculously' setting fire to the Cross.

In a groundbreaking nod to gender progress, or perhaps just a scheduling error, Edmund allowed women a marginal role in politics, upgrading them from total irrelevance to ceremonial ineffectiveness, even permitting Lady Percy to chair a committee on embroidery, provided no one spoke and all minutes were stitched.

Pope Eugenius IV, leader of all Catholic faithful and enthusiastic collector of relics of questionable authenticity, tragically expired of Consumption on October 4th, 1004. He was succeeded by Stephanus V, a man so stern he made confession feel like a tax audit.

Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland went to war against Emperor Guaimar of the Holy Roman Empire. The reason: to better manage the English lands under imperial control - better meaning 'taxes into Blackadder's coffers' rather than into continental Europe.

Bishop Fulk of Jedburgh was appointed Court Chaplain, much to the surprise of everyone except himself, who'd been lobbying since breakfast. Known for sermons that doubled as lengthy complaints about parish laundry, he promptly introduced a new holy ritual: blessing the royal laundry, an innovation praised for its piety and the sudden disappearance of several suspicious stains.

Crown Prince Edmund Blackadder married Lady Aelfthryth, daughter of Duke Eadberht II of Mercia, in a union celebrated mostly for its impressive guest list and the open bar. The alliance promised peace and prosperity, though Edmund was more interested in cunningly annex the lands of Mercia to his Scottish empire. Baldrick was presented with a box of matches and some stacks of straw, thus keeping him busy far from the church throughout the celebration.

As distinguished leader of the Hermetic Society, Edmund 'the Handsome' summoned all members to a Grand Debate; an event promising wisdom, enlightenment, and an alarming shortage of snacks. The debate quickly devolved into esoteric bickering over whether alchemy was just expensive cooking, with Edmund IX quietly plotting to get rid of a 'presumed' and 'non-existent' lake monster.

Emperor Edmund IX 'the Handsome' of Scotland finally triumphed over the Holy Roman Empire, winning a war mostly notable for the impressive array of confused battle plans. He annexed most of Northern England, much to the delight of his financial advisor and the dismay of everyone else.

Edmund IX published his MAGNUM OPUS ON STELLAR ASTROLOGY in year 1010, promising enlightenment on celestial movements; but readers quickly noted that the stars featured were mostly barmaids named after constellations, and a detailed list of all brothels he visited during his 'observation nights'.

Pope Stephanus V, leader of all Catholic faithful and reluctant wearer of increasingly elaborate hats, succumbed to Consumption on May 16th, 1008. He was succeeded by Stephanus VI, whose first grand decision was to call a crusade against France, ruled by Norsemen since the Melchetts fled miserably in the face of rising prices for croissants. Needless to say, Scotland quickly signed up to kill Frenchies.

The Crusade declared by Stephanus ended with the successful conquest of France from the Germanics. Lady Mallt Glywysing, sister to King Natfraech of Wales, was honored with the new Catholic Kingdom of France; although her coronation caused more raised brows than blessings, not least due to her suspiciously prompt papal endorsement.

The Pope, perhaps in a moment of divine confusion or wine-fueled whimsy, awarded the Duchy of Flanders to Lord Laurence Blackadder; whose only crusading had involved looting a pastry cart outside Paris. While the rest of Christendom returned with relics, lice, or syphilis, Laurence alone brought back land, a new title, and several disgruntled Flemish sheep. Edmund Blackadder XI received a Battle-axe and the grandiose title of Paragon of Virtue. The axe soon became a doorstop, while the title joined his dusty shelf of ceremonial absurdities, nestled between 'Champion of Chastity' and 'Friend of the Peasantry'.

Just when everyone thought the Roman Church couldn't get any more corrupt and vile, three new Cardinals were appointed under the protection of the Blackadders and showed the world how wrong they were. Bishop Iedechael of Pornic was created Cardinal after the 'cordial and friendly' visit of Scottish emissaries to the Pope. It seems that the gift of a lifelike bust of his sister had a profound impact on him. In fact, it was not lifelike but 'beheaded-like'. Bishop Eastmund of Havering was created Cardinal after the miracle of the water. Specifically, of the water that drowned the Papal emissary with the appointment that never came to another bishopric; and Bishop Niebelung of Rhuddlan was created Cardinal after the intercession of the Virgin. Actually, it shall be written in lowercase, the virgin, who ceased-to-be-so after a night in the Holy Father's bed, and interceded by threating to make it public.

During the year 1012, the Chinese envoy Xingjun Sima Dungai enjoyed the Scottish climate, inexplicably befriended Edmund IX (possibly due to their inability to understand each other) and left a Qin Tapestry as a gift. Edmund IX, in a regrettable confusion of the translators, also exchanged a beautiful young courtesan, whose name he didn't even know, for a Qin Statue that he didn't know where to place.

In a cunning and unexpected move, Brittany attacked the Muslims and annexed Poitou. Edmund 'the Handsome' celebrated the victory; and imposed the new tax on Unforeseen Conquests to honor the success of his vassals.

In 1015, Edmund Blackadder IX was invited to attend the coronation ceremony of Omero of the Holy Roman Empire. Despite warnings, Baldrick was also invited, and the number of accidental fires in the area quadrupled during the dates of the imperial celebration. Emperor Edmund 'the Handsome' was also invited in 1016 to attend the coronation ceremony of Girard of the Latin Empire. This time, fortunately, Baldrick was sent on a 'trade mission of the utmost importance' north from Iceland, and there were no arsonist incidents to be regretted.

Peter 'the Peasant' dared to rebel against the Blackadders, promising lower taxes and fair government to his followers. Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland was victorious in the battle of Edinburgh against the rebel insurgency, and Peter 'the Peasant' was forced to join the Knights Templar and purge his treason in Jerusalem.

Edmund IX 'the Handsome' was named 'Best Poet of the Year' for his poem about Baldrick and his turnips. The fact that the competition rules only allowed works from the Emperor does not detract from the award's merit.

The Stage IV of the expansion of St. Giles' Cathedral was completed in year 1024. A work for eternity, according to Emperor Edmund IX... although everything can burn, Baldrick added in one of his usual absurd remarks. In 1032, St. Giles' Cathedral was finally completed, with its bronze bells and a magnificent giant cross towering over Edinburgh's main square. The Blackadders' work should be visible from Heaven, or so Edmund IX hoped. After the completion of the Cathedral, large numbers of visitors and pilgrims flocked to Edinburgh. Edmund IX thought there was nothing better to welcome them than a Road Toll.

Paykelti, the mother of Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland, died a natural death on September, 16th 1024. Natural here meaning mistaking the chicken coop door for the one hiding bloodthirsty hunting dogs.

Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland went to war against King Cearl of England to seize the lands of Lancaster, a beautiful duchy that should be under his dominion. Except for Liverpool, a city he defined as a cavern where the beetles would twist and shout.

Empress Aethelburg, the wife of Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland, died comatose in bed on May, 9th 1027. Great grief gripped the Emperor ... until he inherited the lands of Leicester and Lincoln. Edmund IX then married in second wedding Lady Matilda, daughter of Baron Sergio of Hersfeld; a young Italian woman who arrived with a good supply of wines.

Emperor Edmund IX of Scotland supported King Meurig II of Wales in a war against his cousin King Carlus II to claim his rights on the throne of France. Nothing better than a family argument to expand the Empire on the continent. King Meurig II of Wales won the war, the dispute between cousins was happily resolved, and France was incorporated into the Blackadders' growing empire. A few weeks later, burning with envy at how much land the King of France controlled, Edmund IX promptly invented the Kingdom of Aquitaine and gifted it to the first nobleman he ran into on his way to Toulouse.

Pope Stephanus VI, leader of all Catholic faithful, died of Consumption on November 6th, 1028. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Honorius 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. A few years later, he died of Camp Fever and Pope Nicolaus II ascended to the papal throne.

Convinced that his unmatched wit and cunning couldn't possibly be of purely Scottish origin, Edmund IX had his lineage thoroughly researched. When it turned out he was the illegitimate offspring of a farmer and a harlot, the terrified royal librarians hastily rewrote history, declaring him a direct descendant of Alexander the Great.

As of November 1044, the Plague was declared in Messina. Travelers arriving from the Mediterranean shared firsthand experience of the horrors it brings. The truth is, however, that this outbreak only spread to southern Italy and northern Africa... and no one remembers it anymore.

Edmund IX 'the Handsome' ordered the construction of a new Imperial Palace by Loch Ness. He insisted the views and fresh air were the finest in all the kingdom... though many whispered it was really the secret underground mysterious tunnels leading under the lake that caught his attention.

Pope Nicolaus II, leader of all Catholic faithful, was murdered on August 10th, 1045. After a few days of tense confinement in Rome, the College of Cardinals finally elected the new Holy Father. Thus, Pope Lucius 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.

Edmund Blackadder IX died a natural death on August 17th, 1046. aged 75. Without doing much of anything, he watched his empire expand across France, from Holland to the Pyrenees. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER IX 'THE HANDSOME' - EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND - DENIED KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT LOCH NESS BUT BUILT HIS PALACE RIGHT ON ITS SHORE - AD MXLVI.

dmurgell · Jun 30, 2025

CHAPTER XII : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER X 'THE LEWD' - EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH (1046-1055)

Lord Edmund Blackadder X 'the Lewd', son of the late Emperor Edmund IX, was next in the line of succession. Erudite and irresistibly charming, he usually spent his nights in wild revelry with younger male companions. As for his wife ... well, she turned a blind eye; after all, an Imperial Crown is worth far more than a clean conscience or a happy marriage.

In an extravagant ceremony on November 1st, 1046, Edmund Blackadder X was crowned Emperor by Pope Lucius III. Nobles and kings came from all corners of the realm to pay homage to the new emperor, drawn by the legend of his name... and by the thinly veiled threats should they fail to show up. Meanwhile, the fishermen of Drumnadrochit tried to sabotage the construction of the Imperialness Palace.

Emperor Edmund X declared a grand tournament, summoning the greatest lords and knights of the realm. Naturally, none of them turned up; possibly due to scheduling conflicts, death, or simply having better things to do. Thus, the field of honour was left to Lord Percy and Baldrick, who valiantly rode sows and charged through a glorified swamp, valiantly jousting for a turnip dangling from a noose.

A peasant by the name of Hereweald, whose intellect could be comfortably outwitted by a moderately bright turnip, inexplicably decided to revolt against Emperor Edmund X. His grand rebellion lasted just long enough for 10,000 imperial soldiers to finish their tea and squash him like an especially uppity beetle.

Emperor Edmund X 'the Lewd' embarked on a deeply pious pilgrimage to Rome. There, amidst the sacred relics and solemn rituals, His Imperial Highness found himself profoundly moved... particularly by the boy's chorus, whose tight harmonies and even tighter tunics seemed to stir something deeply spiritual in him... mostly below the belt.

In a stroke of political genius or, more accurately, desperation masked with a velvet hat, Edmund Blackadder X created the Duchy of Anjou, carving up more French territory and handing it out like cheese at a drunken banquet. Treachery is best prevented by ensuring your vassals are sufficiently divided to quarrel among themselves long before they can reach for the Imperial Crown.

For almost ten glorious years, Edmund Blackadder X did absolutely nothing; an achievement hailed as visionary governance. In a cunning bid to dodge the shadow of his 'threatening' predecessor, he heroically avoided action, reform, or thought. Ironically, this made him the finest ruler in ages. No accidental deaths, no failed experiments, no disasters; pure Blackadder genius.

Edmund Blackadder X died of Cancer on August 3rd, 1055, aged 62. Known as an inveterate drunkard, Edmund hardly ever spent a single day without drenching himself in liquor, surrounded by young male companions. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER X 'THE LEWD' - EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND - LOVED HIS WIFE, BUT PREFERRED YOUNG BOYS AND WINE - AD MLV.

dmurgell · Jul 12, 2025

CHAPTER XIII : LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER XI 'THE CONQUEROR' - EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH

Lord Edmund Blackadder XI, son of the late Emperor Edmund X, was next in the line of succession. A skilled tactician, but already plagued by Gout and Lover's Pox, his cunning plans would go on to rule the future of Scotland and, to the despair of Christendom, half of Europe too. In an extravagant ceremony on October 15th 1055, Edmund Blackadder XI was crowned Emperor by Pope Lucius III. Many of the attendees sorely missed the abundance of wine and spirits with which his predecessor used to welcome them; along with the absence of the boy's choir that always accompanied him.

Emperor Edmund XI declared a grand tournament, summoning the greatest lords and knights of the realm. Although the competition went off without major incident, Lord Baldrick reported the theft of his dynastic turnip, valued at $400,000. He later found it under the table, but by then 27 peasants and three witches had already been hanged.

Edmund Blackadder XI embarked on a pious pilgrimage to Rome. There, he attempted to deliver a speech in Latin before the College of Cardinals, but was swiftly removed from the lectern by the third time he unsuccesfully tried to pronounce Uranus instead of Caelus.

In a scheme so cunning it wore a mustache and plotted its own tax evasion in the Channel Islands, Edmund XI created the Duchy of Auvergne to pit the French lords against each other. Tragically, he forgot one teensy detail: Auvergne was part of Aquitaine, not France.

In a fit of holy enthusiasm, and possibly bad wine, Pope Lucius III declared a Crusade to liberate Barcelona from the Sunnis; who inconveniently did rule it at the time. Against all odds, and the opinion of several of his own commanders, Emperor Edmund XI led himself the army to seize Barcelona. Victory was swift, largely because the defenders were out to lunch. Literally, it was Calçotada day. Blackadder declared triumph, demanded tribute, and only later realized he had accidentally ended the Crusade before the Pope could bless it.

Pope Lucius III, in a moment of divine and mild confusion, granted Barcelona to the King of Aquitaine. To pacify Edmund, His Holiness gifted him the Tongue of St. Christopher of Antioch; a shriveled relic so revolting it was mistaken for broken sandal and promptly used as a doorstop.

Returning from Barcelona, drunk on glory and sangria that tasted suspiciously like vinegar, Edmund XI stumbled into a forest where he met a Black Knight blocking his path with all the menace of a particularly stubborn lamppost. After a pathetic scuffle that won't be narrated here, the knight was limbless but insisted 't-was but a scratch. Edmund sighed, if this was the famed English resistance, he would conquer the whole place by Tuesday tea, with time for crumpets. As per his cunning plan, Emperor Edmund XI conquered England with alarming ease, first arresting Sir Lancelot 'the Brave' for the murder of a historian, and later defeating Sir Robin 'the Not Quite So Brave as Sir Lancelot' who ran away only to meet a horrendous end while looking for the capital of Assyria (or as Baldrick insisted, Uranusyria). With Camelot’s heroes wiped out, Blackadder swaggered into London and declared himself King of England and of the Round Table at the very first tavern he found, after tripping a bishop, elbowing three knights, and threatening a monk with a spoon. This is how he became known as Edmund 'the Conqueror'.

When Stage I of the Imperialness Palace was completed with turrets, tapestries, and toilets that almost worked, Edmund XI stood admiring Loch Ness, swirling his wine. Asked about the odd midnight roars and vanishing sheep, he merely smirked and said it was best not to go swimming. The Emperor had new Royal Bedchambers added to the Palace with his typical modesty, giving himself a suite so vast it had its own echo and a view straight over the lake. The others got windowless boxes with a view of Baldrick snoring. Privacy is paramount, he declared, drawing the curtains. Especially when the loch occasionally blinks back at you after midnight. Lord Baldrick was appointed Royal Custodian of the Palace, a title grand enough to distract from his real job: secretly feeding Nessie to avoid problems with local fishermen. Armed with a bucket of haggis and no questions, Baldrick vanished nightly into the tunnels, returning soaked, singed, and smelling like trout. Which, actually, made no difference with his usual appearance.

Edmund Blackadder XI bribed the abbot of Canterbury to acquire the Holy Prepuce of Jesus, though he hadn't the faintest clue what a prepuce was. When the relic arrived in a velvet box, Edmund muttered something about smithing a ten inches goldmember for the price he had paid.

Pope Lucius III, supreme leader of the Catholic faithful, and unwilling victim of medieval medicine, shuffled off this mortal coil on December 27th, 1064, having battled Cancer with all the enthusiasm of a withered carrot. He was promptly succeeded by Pope Eugenius V, a man whose chief qualification was knowing the names of all the secret offspring of the Cardinals.

The gloriously incompetent, yet strangely successful, Blackadders' vassal King Alberico of Aquitaine, managed by 1070 to conquer Aragon, Provence, and most parts of Sardinia, turning the Blackadder empire into a sprawling Mediterranean paradise where British sunburned nobles frolicked, sipped wine, and misplaced entire fleets in the sand.

Cummascach, a Kildarian peasant with more courage than brain cells, led a rebellion against Edmund XI armed with a cabbage, a turnip, and blind optimism. After his inevitable defeat, he was sent to serve the Knights Templar in Cyprus, where he met a stupid death, tripping over a goat and falling into a bottomless well. Some years later, in another riotous display of cabbage-fueled courage, a gaggle of disgruntled Irish peasants leaded by Finsnechta flung pitchforks and poetry at the mighty Edmund 'the Conqueror' only to be squashed like undercooked haggis at a banquet. The ringleader, a man with more spleen than sense, was promptly exiled to Cyprus to polish Templar boots and jockstraps until death claimed him. However, his skill in polishing scrotums earned him a bishopric in Italy, where he did serve both God and the Pope personally.

In 1072, Emperor Edmund XI, dressed in enough finery to bankrupt a duchy, attended the coronation of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Theodericing with Baldrick. While Edmund 'the Conqueror' mingled with emperors and egos, Baldrick, whose brain was so small it could rent a flat in a teacup, accidentally set Cologne ablaze, mistaking a torch for a decorative pennant. A nice BBQ flavour, thought Edmund XI, while the German capital was reduced to a pile of ashes smelling of roasted sausage.

In the year 1077, Edmund Blackadder XI published THE ART OF LOVE, a scandalous tome based on his father memories, so steamy it made bishops faint and nuns collapse. Chapter Six, titled 'Don't Marry a Goat' enraged half of Wales, mainly the married half. Critics called it obscene. Baldrick said he missed some more turnip metaphores - despite he had no idea what a metaphore was.

Edmund 'the Conqueror' was bafflingly named True Christian Knight, despite mistaking holy water for gin, setting fire to a relic while trying to roast a sausage, and usually referring to the Pope as 'that hat-wearing Italian weather balloon'. When questioned, the Church claimed bureaucratical errors seemed to be also divine will.

On October 15th 1079, Pope Eugenius V, shepherd of souls and frequent napper during sermons, succumbed to Cancer, or as physicians called it, God's mysterious smiting. After a heated conclave, featuring three fistfights and some less-that-divine bribes, Caelestinus II emerged as Pope. Never to be called Uranus II, cunningly noted Baldrick.

In 1080, the Bishop of Edinburgh was sent to the distant lands of Kursk to convert the Slavic pagans; armed with a Bible, a flask of sherry, and the navigational skills of a stunned turnip. He never returned. Actually, he didn't even make it past Dundee, where he mistook a sheep for a pagan and tried to baptize it off a cliff. The sheep, unimpressed, retaliated with a fatal headbutt.

Imperial Prince Edmund, heir of Scotland, died a natural death on June 9th 1081, aged 53. Natural here meaning he was poisoned by his own Enlightening Cake. Supposed to inspire wisdom, it instead inspired vomiting, and later hallucinations that leaded to a night swim at Loch Ness to meet Nessie, Nessie's stomach, and the Almighty. In that same order. His son, conveniently called Edmund too, was the new heir.

In 1082, Emperor Edmund 'the Conqueror' made a generous donation to Cluny Abbey, under the firm belief it was the name for a new extravagant brothel opening in Edinburgh, as he fondly imagined. Upon learning it was, in fact, a Benedictine monastery in Burgundy, he demanded a refund. The monks offered only forgiveness. And cabbage soup after Vespers.

Edmund Blackadder XI died of Gout complications on February 18th, 1084, aged 72. Though he conquered Barcelona and England, and ruled a vast empire from frozen Iceland to the sunny Azure Coast, he's best remembered for the obscene book that made marrying a goat socially awkward for generations. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER XI 'THE CONQUEROR' - EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND - TRUE CHRISTIAN KNIGHT AND GREAT PATRON OF CLUNY - AD MLXXXIV.

dmurgell · Jul 16, 2025

ADDENDUM C - 300 years of Blackadder cunning rulership (769-1069)

In the Year of Our Lord 1069, Scotland reluctantly raised a goblet (and kept the other hand on its sword) to mark three full centuries since the first Blackadder slouched onto the throne of Edinburgh, a moment historians not yet agree was either the birth of a nation or the start of a very disgraceful joke.

Three hundred years of scheming sovereigns, suspiciously-timed coronations, and a foreign policy best described as hope for the best, bribe the rest. Monarchs came and went (usually with no purpose), alliances shifted like the Scottish weather, and taxes remained the one true constant, levied on livestock, land, rain, and, during the Black Death, funerals.

The Blackadder line, through some mix of luck, lies, and occasional literacy, endured not only their enemies but also their own cousins, councils, and culinary choices. They built castles, fought crusades, created monsters, and most importantly, managed to cope with Baldrick cunning plans most of the time.

Let us now turn a shrewd and slightly suspicious gaze upon the third century of the Blackadder era: a time of political pageantry, feudal feuds, and an alarming number of statues with noses mysteriously missing. We shall explore the pomp, the pitfalls, and the peculiar genius that kept the Blackadder name firmly, and sometimes literally, carved into the stonework of Scottish history.

THE NOBLE HOUSES

House Blackadder : Scotland's inexplicably enduring royal family since 769, founded by the ever-opportunistic Edmund Blackadder I, a man best described as ambitious and worst described in most taverns. For 300 years, the Blackadders have gripped power like a toddler clutching a stolen sword: recklessly, loudly, and with several lawsuits pending. Their strategy meetings usually end with the wrong map, the wrong army, and the worst wine. Senior appointments have gone to drunk uncles, confused monks, and, in one memorable case, a horse with a shining armor. Of the 338 Blackadders recorded in official chronicles, 90 are still alive as of 1069, mostly because the assassins gave up or joined the family payroll.

House Baldrick : Faithful retainers, occasional liabilities, and full-time catastrophes, House Baldrick was inexplicably granted the Duchy of Albany in 849; either as a reward for loyalty or a punishment for proximity. Since then, their energies have been divided equally between turnip cultivation and accidentally setting things on fire, and sometimes both at once. Their role in Scottish politics has been largely unintentional, often involving misread scrolls, misplaced votes, and speeches delivered to the wrong audience. Their most enduring legacy is a 200-page treatise on agricultural reform, which turned out to be a shopping list with ambitious handwriting. Though feared in council chambers, mostly for their hygiene, the Baldricks have somehow endured. As of 1069, a total of 161 have been recorded, with 31 still alive, or at least unburied; which, by family standards, is practically thriving.

House Darling : After three centuries of service to the crown, and even longer avoiding any actual responsibility, House Darling remains a shining example of what happens when nobody notices you’re in charge. Granted control of Galloway in 842, mostly because the Blackadders refused to go that far west without bathhouses, the Darlings have governed with all the decisiveness of a lukewarm pudding. Their greatest accomplishments include not starting any wars, not ending any either, and once inventing a new form of paperwork by accident. To date, 247 Darlings have graced the records, with 49 still alive in 1069, most of whom are believed to be waiting for instructions that were never given. And yet, in the grand chaos of Scottish politics, perhaps doing nothing is the most cunning move of all.

House Flashheart : Renowned for their dazzling bravery and catastrophic judgment, the Flashhearts have been safely - ahem, strategically - stationed on the Isle of Man since 842, mostly to keep their heroic misfires a safe boat ride from Edinburgh. The official line is that it was a noble posting; unofficially, it's the only place big enough for their egos and small enough to limit collateral damage. Despite being given an island and strict orders not to leave it, the Flashhearts somehow conquered parts of Holland, Flanders, and Picardie, purely by yelling loudly, charging in the wrong direction, and accidentally defeating several confused enemies along the way. Of the 170 Flashhearts proudly named in the chronicles, 30 were still alive in 1069; though with this family, alive includes anyone still shouting, bleeding flamboyantly, or attempting to seduce passing horses. Their motto remains: Glory or Burst!

House Percy : Despite possessing neither intelligence nor courage in dangerous quantities, the Percys somehow blundered their way into ruling the Duchy of Moray in 888, a gift from Edmund Blackadder IV ‘One-Hand’, who historians suspect may have been concussed, drunk, or both at the time. Now headquartered in Aberdeen, with occasional seasonal migrations to Inverness, the Percys move much like confused livestock: slowly, loudly, and usually in the wrong direction. Their approach to governance consists mostly of guesswork, shouting, and hoping someone else writes it down. So far, 261 Percys have stumbled through the pages of Scottish history, with 31 still lingering in 1069, either lost, locked in cellars, or enthusiastically misunderstanding their titles.

House Melchett : Appointed Dukes of the Isles in 889, presumably because no one else wanted the job, the Melchetts have ruled the Hebrides with a proud tradition of blustery speeches, poor decisions, and accidental fires. Their reign has ranged from mildly inconvenient to national apology. By some divine mix-up or paperwork error, a cadet branch accidentally became royalty in France, catapulting the family into European relevance by 969, much to the horror of France, Scotland, and the Melchetts themselves. Thank God, the throne lasted them less than a piece of candy at a school party, and France breathed a sigh of relief. Back home, the original line remains heroically entrenched on the wind-scoured rocks of the Hebrides, locked in an eternal struggle against bad weather, worse judgement, and the occasional airborne livestock. To date, 158 Melchetts have graced the records, with 50 still living; a fact that continues to confuse medical science and possibly God Himself.

House MacOrkney : Originally a Pictish clan strong-armed into service by the Blackadders to manage the northern isles, mostly because no one south of Inverness fancied arguing with people who painted themselves blue and threw rocks for sport. Their first noble, Lord Paul MacOrkney, was granted the title of Duke, despite showing more interest in sea shanties than statecraft. While his political legacy is fuzzy at best, his musical instincts were unmatched, and to this day, his ability to lay down a solid beat during council meetings is the stuff of bardic legend. Diplomacy may have escaped him, but rhythm never did. Though their policies were often improvised and occasionally in 6/8 time, the MacOrkneys have endured. History notes 86 family members, with 30 still alive in 1069, many of them still tapping their toes, tuning their harps, or simply rocking back and forth in highland chairs muttering about the good old gigs.

House Threepwood : Living proof that sometimes sheer luck, poor navigation, and wildly misplaced confidence are all you need to found a noble house. Lord Guybrush Threepwood, once a young sailor with dreams of adventure, tropical islands, and an unhealthy number of monkeys, somehow ended up in the freezing north. After accidentally impressing Edmund VI ‘the Cruel’ during the Icelandic campaign of 923 by not dying immediately, Guybrush was rewarded with rule over Reykjavik, a decision many chalk up to frostbite-induced delirium. Though no monkeys have ever been spotted, the Threepwoods have embraced Icelandic rule with their trademark blend of naïve enthusiasm, overly confident speeches, and a deeply flawed understanding of diplomacy. With 86 family members recorded so far, and 42 already spirited off by LeChuck or similar career hazards, the house remains small but confusingly optimistic.

House Bufton-Tufton : Often overlooked by the Blackadders, mostly because they were usually lost, the Bufton-Tuftons managed to stay blissfully unimportant in Scottish affairs until 950, when the Blackadders decided to expand into Ireland and thought, Why not send the Bufton-Tuftons? What’s the worst that could happen? Miraculously, they were granted the Duchy of Munster, likely because they were the only ones who showed up on time. Since then, their claim to fame has been a baffling mix of accidental victories, and endless confusion over which side they’re supposed to be on. To date, 109 Bufton-Tuftons have graced the family tree, with 26 stubbornly refusing to kick the bucket, mostly because no one can quite find the instructions on how to do it properly.

THE KINGDOM

A short review of the last century in Scotland, chronologically ordered, and started with Lord Edmund Blackadder VIII (see Addendums A and B for previous rulers).

Lord Edmund Blackadder VIII ruled as 'the Young' for a solid 14 years before earning the far more fitting title of 'the Philosopher' mostly to his bizarre experiments, endless unsolicited advice, and occasional flashes of accidental wisdom. While his commanders were busy annexing Ireland, Wales, and Brittany, Edmund VIII was preoccupied with his greatest project yet: cross-species breeding experiments at Loch Ness. He also holds the dubious distinction of being the only Blackadder to ever move the royal court out of Scotland. During the Black Death, he either cunningly or cowardly relocated the entire operation to Iceland, proving once and for all that a good strategist knows when to run for colder pastures. Before his demise, Edmund crowned himself Emperor of Cunning, a title that was enthusiastically ignored by every pope, cardinal, and sane person ever.

Lord Edmund Blackadder IX, also known as 'the Handsome' (a title he insisted on repeating constantly), was raised in Jaffa, near Jerusalem; because nothing says future Emperor of Scotland like growing up in a sun-drenched Crusader outpost. Thanks to the untimely deaths of both his father and grandfather, Edmund ascended the throne at the tender age of 11. The Pope graciously agreed to uphold the Imperial dignity, though he firmly rejected Edmund’s request to be called Emperor of Cunning, likely due to an incident involving forged relics and an exploding cassock. During his reign, Stage III of St. Giles’ Cathedral was completed, including its now-famous attached brewery, and Edmund immediately began plans for Stage IV, which included indoor plumbing, a falconry disco, and at least three fountains shaped like himself. By sheer luck, dumb bravery, and a few well-timed poisonings, Edmund also managed to unite France, Holland, and bits of England under the Scottish Empire, which, according to his official biography, was cunningly planned. His final project was the Imperial Palace at Loch Ness, a glittering monstrosity that greatly offended local fishermen, still bitter over his predecessor’s attempts at romantic interspecies diplomacy.

Lord Edmund Blackadder X 'the Lewd' ruled the empire for roughly ten years, a decade blissfully devoid of major events, accomplishments, or anything remotely resembling effort. His reign is best known for his legendary nightly festivities, which featured copious amounts of wine, an unsettling number of young male servants, and his wife’s studied, silent ignorance; a marital strategy historians now refer to as Selective Blindness with Royal Benefits. Oddly enough, despite his complete disinterest in governance, Edmund X is remembered as one of the most beloved rulers in Scottish history; mostly because he didn't raise taxes, declare wars, or accidentally set fire to any cathedrals. The people enjoyed a rare era of peace, prosperity, and the thrilling national pastime of not being bothered by their monarch. In short: he did nothing, and the nation cheered.

Lord Edmund Blackadder XI 'the Conqueror' enthusiastically continued his predecessors' clever strategy of dividing France into bite-sized duchies, encouraging them to squabble endlessly over land, power, and the last decent croissant. With no real internal threats, aside from the occasional tax rebellion or drunken duke misplacing a province, Edmund XI turned his gaze southward. He annexed Barcelona, mostly for the weather, and subjugated England before the Knights of the Round Table could figure out where Assyria was or why they should care. Though the Imperial Court remained in Edinburgh, Edmund XI spent his summers at Loch Ness, enjoying the view from his lavish new palace, paid for with English gold and French complaints. The local fishermen still refused to speak to him after the Nessie Incident, but Edmund XI considered that a bonus. He survived the year 1069, which was more than could be said for several of his mistresses, and the second half of his reign will be covered in Addendum D, assuming time behaves itself.

THE WONDERS

The legacy of the Blackadders will outlast kingdoms, reason, and most likely the human species; forged in stone, funded by peasants who received nothing in return, and upheld by a centuries-long tradition of sarcastic decrees and creative tax policies.

St. Giles’ Cathedral still stands tall in Edinburgh, guiding Scottish souls to Heaven (or at least the general direction) while conveniently diverting clergy tithes straight into the Blackadder coffers. It remains a holy place of worship, spiritual reflection, and aggressive accounting.

The Imperialness Palace, originally built as a symbol of imperial grandeur, quickly became the Emperor's summer resort, with a floor plan clearly designed by someone who hated everyone but the monarch: only the Emperor’s bedchamber has a window facing the lake, and the rest face walls, sheep, or other disappointed nobles. Its underground tunnels are rumored to house strange creatures, ancient secrets, and Baldrick, who's been lost down there since 1042 and may now be part mole.

As for Stonehenge, the mighty circle of mysterious rocks, it was acquired along with the Crown of England, mostly because no one was guarding it and the Blackadders thought it would look good as a giant sundial or possibly a barbecue pit. To this day, no one knows what it does, but it definitely belongs to Scotland now… because it can't say otherwise.

THE ROYAL PORTRAITS GALLERY

Continuing the gallery from Addendum B, here below you can find the Blackadder family tree, starting with Edmund VIII 'the Philosopher'.

Both Edmund VIII and Edmund IX left a legacy so deep, archaeologists need permits just to look at it. Their descendants still enjoy royal treatment when traveling across Europe, mostly because people assume they’re either famous nobles or eccentric performance artists. Either way, they rarely pay for drinks.

THE WORLD IN 1069

Scotland has risen as one of the great European powers under the infamous rule of House Blackadder. Its vast empire now stretches from Iceland to Barcelona, as if someone drew a slightly drunk line across Europe, conveniently passing through Greenwich. It even keeps a foothold in Jaffa, serving as a safe port for pilgrims en route to the Holy Land.

To the east, the Catholic Empire of Germania controls most of Eastern Europe, while the once-mighty Holy Roman Empire has been reduced to a narrow, nervous strip wedged in between like theological dental floss. The Kingdoms of Burgundy and Austrasia are now sandwiched awkwardly between these powers, constantly pretending not to notice.

To the north, Sweden has somehow managed to unify the heathen chiefdoms under a New Reformed Pagan religion, which mostly involves longboats, loud chanting, and suspiciously well-organized raids.

In the south, the Saracens still hold Hispania and the African coast, while the Merchant Republic of Amalfi has seized most of Italy, presumably by buying it. After the fall of Constantinople, a new Sultanate has emerged in Carpathia, while the people of Greece have rallied under the flags of Epirus and even taken control of Cyrenaica.

As for the rest of the world ... it remains, for now, too far away for the Blackadders to care about. But give it time.

dmurgell · Wednesday at 11:22

CHAPTER XIV: LORD EDMUND BLACKADDER XII 'THE GOOD' – EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND AND DUKE OF EDINBURGH

Lord Edmund Blackadder XII, grandson of the late Emperor Edmund XI, was next in line for the throne. A skilled tactician with the diplomacy of a drunk ferret, his rampant paranoia was poised to shape the destiny of Europe —and, for reasons never clearly explained, the Loch Ness ecosystem and environment. He later claimed the local fishermen were plotting a coup.

On May 8th, 1084, in a ceremony so extravagant it made peacocks look underdressed, Edmund Blackadder XII was crowned Emperor by Pope Caelestinus II, who was drunk on wine and incense. But mostly wine. Meanwhile, Baldrick, under royal orders to light a fire under the economy, enthusiastically interpreted this as setting fire to every fishing village near Loch Ness.

Edmund Blackadder XII declared a grand tournament, summoning the realm's finest lords and knights. Lord Flashheart arrived from Holland in a blaze of ego, bearing a shipload of tulips for the ladies, who promptly swooned. Baldrick, not to be outdone, displayed his prized turnip with pride. It received less swooning and more confused silence. One goat showed interest, briefly, before her husband took her back to Wales.

Emperor Edmund XII of Scotland paid a royal visit to his distant cousin in Jaffa—mainly to borrow gold, insult the local cuisine, and raise taxes on sand. From there, he set off on a pious pilgrimage to Jerusalem, stopping only to sell fake relics, offend three monks, and declare a riotous chicken as his spiritual guide. Calling the Emir of Jerusalem 'Biggus Dickus' did not help much in building relations with the local authorities either.

Stage I of the Imperial Palace by Loch Ness was, against all odds and Baldrick's involvement, a success; though the plumbing still screamed like a banshee on fire. Thus, Edmund XII started Stage II: a west wing for unwelcome visitors, a moat filled with architects' tears, and a ballroom large enough to host all of Scotland's incompetent nobles.

Two years after Edmund XI's tragically convenient demise, the Pope, either drunk, blind, bribed, or all three at once, declared him Blessed. The Vatican cited a miracle of patience, referring to anyone who endured a full conversation with Edmund 'the Conqueror' without committing heresy or homicide.

Edmund XII was dubbed 'the Good' after raising taxes on Jaffa Cakes. And biscuits too, just to avoid future taxation discrepancies. His subjects, hoping for a cut in the turnip tax, actually dubbed him 'the Good-for-Nothing' but Edmund, always galloping past villages in a hurry, only caught the first part and assumed applause.

One of Blackadder's dimmer vassals accidentally conquered Pamplona while drunkenly chasing an adventurous cow across the Pyrenees. Mistaking the local festivity of Sanferminak for an enthusiastic welcome, he declared victory. Ever eager to offload responsibility, Edmund XII 'the Good' graciously granted him the Kingdom of Navarra; mostly to avoid learning where it was. The adventurous cow provided a tasteful beef stew at the Victory Feast.

While studying a map over lunch, Edmund XII squinted at a large purple blotch. Marshal - he slurred - wipe that ghastly Burgundy off the map! Alas, he meant the wine stain; the Marshal took it as an imperial war order. By the weekend, Burgundian castles were under siege, while Edmund 'the Good' wondered where his Marshal and the army had gone. A few weeks later, Edmund XII was enjoying his third nap of the morning when the Marshal burst in, declaring that he had taken Provence, Dauphiné, and Franche-Comté. Edmund blinked, yawned, and his face showed he didn't understand anything. After being reminded of his earlier remarks about the Burgundy stain, Edmund heaved a weary sigh and ordered Baldrick to remove a rotten cheese platter. That Corsican cheese is revolting, he muttered as the Marshal left the room.

Not many days later, the King of Sardinia proudly announced he had conquered Corsica. Edmund XII, still juggling his accidentally expanding empire, asked Baldrick where Corsica was. Baldrick scratched his head: I think it's that place with the funny cheese, m'lord. Edmund sighed: Baldrick, remind me never to ask you about geography or, actually, anything!

The late Edmund Blackadder XI was proclaimed a saint by Pope Caelestinus II, thanks to a myopic monk who mistook 'the Conqueror' for 'the Confessor' in the royal chronicles. The typo snowballed through endless paperwork, reaching the Vatican's most confused officials. Meanwhile, Edmund XII, baffled but flattered, wondered if sainthood came with new taxes or just more tedious prayers and incense.

Pope Caelestinus II declared a Crusade for Egypt. Miraculously, it worked: Egypt was under Catholic rulers! For five glorious years. Then the Sunnis declared Jihad and walloped the Crusaders faster than Blackadder could collect taxes. Edmund XII, under the solemn promise of keeping Lord Flashheart away from the Arabian princesses, was allowed to maintain ownership of the Pyramids at Giza and three sandpits in Cyrenaica.

Pope Caelestinus II died feverish on August 23rd, 1095, sweating profusely like Lord Melchett during an algebra exam. He was succeeded by Innocentius III, a man who, despite his name, had long since lost his innocence during his evangelizing missions in the brothels of Sicily. Sadly, he popped his papal clogs on June 4th, 1097, after less than two years in the job, struck down by cancer worse than Baldrick's cunning plans. His papacy was shorter than Lord Percy's martial training, and just as effective. His successor, Callistus III, had the charisma of a damp cassock and only discovered that Rome actually existed when he was seated on the Papal throne.

Edmund XII's 1099 Christmas card, meant to inspire festive cheer, was penned with all the clarity of a Baldrick poem. His empty words like 'pushing forward our limits' and 'continue growing in our boundaries' were tragically mistaken as a call to arms. By Epiphany, his vassals had invaded Austrasia, Valencia, Castile, and Savoy, proving once again that the Blackadder Empire grew on the basis of unfortunate misunderstandings and meaningless orders.

In 1103, Edmund 'the Good' attended the coronation of Gregory 'the Wise' as Emperor of Germania. Edmund XII arrived bearing Jaffa Cakes, hoping to sweeten diplomatic relations, while Baldrick proudly presented a turnip; his idea of a diplomatic gift. No accidental fires were recorded on this occasion, possibly because Baldrick was staring at his turnip throughout the party.

Edmund XII adopted a Persian cat so regal it demanded silk cushions and passive-aggressive purring. He sought a name that was nice, sweet, yet powerful. Failing to find one, Baldrick just named the cat Stevens; who, unaware it's a wild world, did not stay home and went leaping and hopping on a moonshadow. In a fit of feline-fueled grandeur, the Emperor demanded a new castle in Liddesdale for his cat Stevens. It needs battlements and a moat filled with cream, he declared. The cat ignored the castle and accidentally boarded a merchant ship while chasing mice. Cat Stevens ended up in Dubai, where his new Islamic master named him Yusuf.

Stage II of the Imperialness Palace was finally unveiled with great pomp amid mild plumbing issues. A lavish hall with panoramic views over Loch Ness was added solely for Edmund's Golden Throne, forged from melted chamber pots and pure ego. Thick curtains could cover the windows in case of a storm... or unexpected appearances of the 'non-existent' monster.

Scotland annexed Asturias, León, Murcia, and Tripolitania, after Baldrick mistook Edmund's list of possible vacation destinations for a detailed war plan. Weeks later, Jerusalem was taken by Gerald, Count of Jaffa, who needed more space for his artichoke plantation. What a waste of fertile soil, Baldrick muttered, imagining vast turnip fields in the Holy Land.

Driven by jealousy and envy, the Blackadders' frequent fuel, Edmund 'the Good' ordered the conquest of Cologne and the destruction of its church. Nothing could surpass St. Giles' Cathedral, apart from his ego. On the vacant lot left by the temple, Edmund XII authorized a plantation of flowers and aromatic plants. The scent permeating the waters of Cologne quickly became popular, primarily to disguise Baldrick's lack of hygiene.

Imperial Prince Edmund, the heir of Emperor Edmund XII, died in a gardening accident on January 13th, 1120, continuing the bizarre family tradition of skipping a generation with each succession. His son Edmund, the Emperor's grandson, would be the new heir. He was warned not to mistake a cactus for a chair; his late father's fatal error.

Edmund Blackadder XII died clutching at his heart, aged 77, on September 26th, 1125. He expanded his empire across the Mediterranean, ensuring diverse summer vacation options, and even built a castle for his cat, Stevens. His remains now rest in a carved stone tomb within the crypt of Saint Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. The epitaph reads: EDMUND BLACKADDER XII 'THE GOOD' – EMPEROR OF SCOTLAND – LOST CAT STEVENS AT THE HANDS OF ISLAM – AD MCXXV.

Blackadder - The most cunning and scheming dynasty Scotland had yet seen

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Attachments

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Attachments

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder

Chronicler of the House Blackadder