Dragon Reborn: A Narrative England AAR

[Dovahkiing]

So this is my first EU3 AAR, possibly just practice for Part 2 of my megacampaign,
A Saga Without Heroes, currently in CK2 (year 1071).
It will be a narrative (using vanilla DW 5.2) playing England, beginning in 14 October 1399 (the Grand Campaign).
Following the life and times of the English Empire (hopefully) from 1399 to 1821 (I hope).

And so, to England, the end of a century and the beginning of a legend...




Chapter 1:
Uneasy Lies
Westminster Abbey, London, England
14 October, 1399

"Hail Henry King!" went up the cry, prompted by Thomas Arundel, soon to be restored to the Archbishopric of Canterbury. The man they hailed, as he emerged from the mist of the royal mystery, had worked hard indeed for this day. No, when his cousin King Richard forbade him from inheriting his father John of Gaunt, Henry, once Duke of Lancaster and from this moment on King Henry IV of England, he had not intended on usurping the crown, only on regaining his rightful lands. But then Richard invaded Ireland, and the temptation was too great to pass up... Arundel now congratulated him. "Henry.. or My Lord I should call you, this is truly a great day. I will make sure that accursed tyrant Richard is taken care of." Henry politely said, as he knew all the not-so-revolutionary guests would hear: "Don't be too hard on him. He's been punished enough. Perhaps if he had died he would have suffered less." A subtle hint received, the soon-to-be restored bishop left his friend and lord to his own devices. Henry had indeed a lot to drink, and when he staggered off to bed what happened was not so strange, on closer inspection.
In his dream he saw a map of England and Wales, and across the Irish Sea was Ireland. A finger from nowhere pointed to the Emerald Isle. "You are my servant, O Henry, and as such you will perform My will. Ireland is grown corrupt, its petty kings fighting among themselves to no end other than the misery of their own people. Their pleas have not gone unanswered. You I have chosen to perform the great work of pacifying the Irish for their own good.

Do this, and you will gain an eternal name that will not be erased. If you do not..."
The dream ended, and the sun now rose above London. The ides of October, he reflected.
He should have been warned to fear the ides of October.
But instead of a soothsayer, came a page. A boy no older than thirteen imprudently entered the royal bedroom in the Palace of Westminster, and shouted: "Sire, urgent news from General Knolles!"

The fires of war between the two eternal enemies across the Channel had flared up yet again.

 

[Avindian]

This should be a fun AAR; I'll subscribe.

 

[Dovahkiing]

Chapter 2:
And What Army?

Caux, France, 13 November, 1399
James Audley was shaking with all the little energy he still had. The port of Caux was looming before the bow of the Gaunt, and James was scared stiff. It hadn't been his choice, going into the military. The recruiter came to Tynebridge preceded only by some muffled rumors of a resumed war with France, and every able-bodied man he saw was instantly drafted. Two weeks was the sum total of James's military experience, but war took no account of such things. Now, in the distance, someone was shouting. The French, so foreign to one raised in Northern England near Newcastle and the only foreign language he heard was the occasional Gaelic, was stinging to James's ears. It reminded him how far he was from home, or safety.
Then the rainstorm started. But it was not a rain of water to nourish the earth and bring life; no, it was a rain of arrows to bring death. The waters of the La Manche echoed with the sounds of the dying as the English fleet pressed on, inexorable, not slowed in the least by the French arrows. James fingered his chainmail. Would it be of any use? There was no time for doubts or prayers as they reached the coast, still harried by the endless barrage of feathered death. Running off the ship onto the hostile French shore, James mouthed a prayer: Ave Maria...
The Virgin was of no aid as he ran. All around him was the army of England, a massive war machine indeed. Glancing over to the sea, he saw the docks of Caux were being overrun by the Lion and Fleur de lys of England. But the walls were not as easily overcome, and from his vantage point James saw the English dismay.

Suddenly, a rider came up to him. Looking up, James at first could not identify the rider because of the plate armor and face covering helmet. But when the rider opened his visor, James gasped.
King Henry.
And the horseback royal said:" Come with me. There are things in store for you that you could never have imagined..."
And like so many, James was utterly bewildered.

Caux, France, 20 December, 1399
The walls still loomed up menacingly, for the one millionth time in a month and a week. James still couldn't make any sense of what had happened in this time. 'Things in store'. So he was a colonel now, and in command of five hundred men. So? He was still sitting before the wall, still getting soaked by the rain and soaked by blood. He was still in France, and still very cold. The council was gathering now. 'Sire!' he said as the king walked into the tent. Although he had grown rather accustomed to the royal presence, it still unnerved him. It was like the king had some grim mission to which he would sacrifice anything, which gave him quite a grave look. And indeed, the tone was quite serious. James spoke first. 'Our spies have reported that as of three days ago a large army of 12 regiments is gathering in the Paris region and is most likely headed for us.'

Henry IV only smiled. 'So what?'
James couldn't display any emotion close to doubt or bewilderedness. Was Henry mad? Instead of voicing those dangerous thoughts, he said:" Sire, they will overwhelm us! They are far too many, and they are fresh, while we are fatigued from this siege. And our Portuguesed allies are tied up in Normandy with another enemy regiment. And Bourbonnais have declared war on us as vassals of Charles! I fail to see how none of this matters!"
Henry grew into a great rage: "Shut up, you insolent peasant! You know absolutely nothing! I am God's servant on Earth, and as such you cannot question me!"
Just then, they were disturbed.

"My lord!" came a voice from outside the tent, "they are upon us!"

And again, like so many times in the past, the quarrels of the high and mighty claimed the lives of the oppressed and lowly.

 

[Ashantai]

Interesting start! I always like an English AAR, and this looks like a new angle, so consider me following!

 

[Dovahkiing]

Chapter 3:
Once More Out of the Breach

Caux,France, 20 December 1399
Was the world anything more than a blur of arrows, steel, and dying men? Did it make sounds other than steel clashing and arrows puckering into the throats of men? Did it contain any hope, any brightness yet undimmed? Colonel James Audley would answer all of those questions negatively as the French army stormed King Henry's camp before the walls of Caux. 'Colonel!' came a voice from another world. Narrowly avoiding an arrow, James ran over to its source. And who should it be but Corporal John Arendal, wounded from a stab in his midsection. 'Colonel, help me!' he gurgled out in a voice impossible for any man of conscience to ignore. For a moment he thought he knew the voice from somewhere else, but in the confusion he couldn't place it. As far as he was concerned, John Arendal was dying, and that's what he had to address. That's what he always did. How many men had he lost to sickness and possibly pure despair? He couldn't count. Arendal's agony continued. Lying down next to the dying corporal, James said: "Don't worry. We're going to drive away those foreign demons, and then everything will be alright. Everything will be alright." The French weren't demons, as far as James had seen, but you couldn't really fight somebody who was basically decent like you, right? In the meantime, the fleur-de-lys came near. 'Pull back! Westward!' came the cry. As he turned to leave and a cacophony of hostile foreign voices sounded, James looked down.
John Arendal wasn't dead, he was gone.

Fecamp Abbey, 15 January, 1400
A new century had dawned, but there were no celebrations among the English. After being driven off from Caux, Henry's army had been pursued from town after town, and now they were in Fecamp, praying for Divine aid. Everyone had gone, only the king remained. And he argued bitterly with his God. Like Christ on the Cross, he cried out: "My God, My God, why have You abandoned me?". The abbey echoed with his desperate cry.
And unexpectedly, an answer came. The abbey, Fecamp, the whole world seemed to go dark. There was only the voice.
"I have not abandoned you." it said. Henry, King of England and of France, Lord of Ireland, knelt. He knew he was talking to the only one he answered to. "So why have you given me into the hands of the perfidious French? Why do you let them take what belongs to I, your anointed?"
A sound strangely like a laugh came. "I did not anoint you! If I was to let you hold on to Calais just because you are the 'rightful' holder, would I not give your crown back to Richard?"
The name 'Richard' struck a nerve with Henry. The deposed king was still alive, locked up in a castle and more or less impotent, but alive nonetheless. "Lord, please, You have tasked me with serving you in this world! Help me! Drive the infidels in Catholic robe away! Don't let them harm me! Was I not a good man?"
The strange laugh again. "What is a man but a miserable pile of deception? A good man matters no more to me than a good swine! And, your small human brain has failed to remember something: Your task was with Ireland, not France. But, I am not called a Merciful God for nothing. I shall extend you this small favor."
"But... Don't leave me!"
The abbey was back, so was the world itself.
A flash of white. God's light?
A rider dismounted and entered.
"Sire, a message from Austria!"

***************************
In the dark abbey, a white-robed figure cackled and barely controlled laughter as the Dragon of Wessex was raised.
He was the man with the plan, he feared no one.

 

[Ashantai]

This is very intriguing! Please continue, it looks like a very good piece.

 

[Dovahkiing]

ask and ye shall receive, alas, only on Wednesday or after
Grey Eminence and Downfall FTW BTW!

 

[Ashantai]

Why thank you!

I shall await Wednesday eagerly then!

 

[Dovahkiing]

Chapter 4:
Betrayed!
Calais, France, 14 April, 1400
'Confusion' was the word. Had they won or lost at Alencon? Was the war over or ongoing? And who exactly had botched the war so much? The chaplains in the barracks said the Austrians and Portuguese had caused their current encirclement in Calais by failing to come to England's aid. The first allegation James was prepared to believe, for he had not seen one Austrian soldier or one piece of equipment with the 'AEIOU' letters. The second one was somewhat less believable. James had actually commanded a group of lost Portuguese soldiers at the Battle of Alencon, who had been separated from their unit after a defeat against the French in Normandy. Now James walked the streets of Calais restlessly, despite the late hour.

Some houses still had candles burning, many more extinguished theirs. The cold night air suffused his body. The calming effect spread through him. He walked until he reached the city limits. Beyond was the beach. He was not supposed to be there. He should be inspecting Barracks No.23, which formerly was the De-le-Ile family home. But James needed the calm, the quiet, the breaking of the waves on the shore. Sitting on the sand, he could vaguely see the coast of Dover. He had family in Dover. Would defeat mean that the Dover Audleys would have to suffer the consequences of invasion? James didn't want to think about that. He was almost asleep now, lulled into near-unconsciousness by the rhythmic breaking of the waves. Unfortunately, fate's plans for James Audley, age 21, did not include sleep on the Calais beach. A courier came to him. "Whaa?" was all James managed to say before the verbal tide began. "Sir," the courier said almost too fast to be understood, "you are summoned to the town hall!" Cursing Calais and its halls, James got up and made for Calais Hall.

Calais Hall was shivering cold in the April night. Henry Bolingbroke, King of England and France, did indeed vibrate with the lack of heat as he waited for the French delegation to enter. Bastards, he thought with royal indignation, I don't see why I bother with calling myself their king.
His friend, Thomas Arundel, newly-restored Archbishop of Canterbury, was the architect of this conference. Henry couldn't thank him enough. The battle of Alencon, being indecisive, showed the futility of further conflict. The French could have won the war with their far superior army, which outnumbered the English army at least two to one after the Battle of Caux, but they're too stupid to know that. An internal smile sprang up behind the stony-faced exterior of the king. Perhaps he would not be instantly discredited by a lost war in the beginning of his reign. The Frenchmen entered, shivering as well. 'Shall we begin?' Their leader, one Henri le Auxerre, said. King Charles of France did not deign to meet the man who claimed his title in person.
It was going to be a long night.
*******************************************

The sun was about to dawn above Calais. James Audley's head felt like it was being hammered incessantly by little gnomes inside it. Was it from the endless negotiation or from the wine he drank with abandon? Probably both. Through a haze of tired half-drunkenness, James looked at the Archbishop. Thomas Arundel looked so infuriatingly arrogant, but arrogance with a reason. Like Thomas knew something that everybody else in the world didn't. Presently, the King's favorite announced: "It seems we are all come to an agreement. I shall now read out the terms. They are easy enough for our distinguished colonel from Tynebridge to understand. As you may expect, all forces of the English, Austrian, and Portuguese crowns are to cease hostilities against those of the French crown and its vassals. No payments of any kind are required, and in all matters everything shall be as it was before the declaration of war."
James was outraged. It wasn't really the personal insult that Arundel had made to him. It was the images of all his friends dying in foreign lands. It was the destroyed camps at Caux and Alencon. But most of all, it was the image of Corporal John Arenthal dying for absolutely no reason. Had they all suffered and died for nothing? Had all those good men perished just so a bunch of high-and-mighty nobles could shake hands as if congratulating each other on a good game?
But the fire burned inside. Nevertheless, it would never be quenched.

Calais, France, 30 April, 1400
Eglise-Notre-Dame church
"Thank you, Lord!" rang out the cry. The grand council of the realm, along with many soldiers high and low, had assembled in Calais's most famous church to thank God for the 'victory' as it was being billed in England. Thomas Arundel made a few technical announcements regarding arrangements for return to England, and soon the church was empty. All except for one man, rather exalted.
Henry IV of England and France.
Once again he had to speak with his God in solitude. "Thank you. You know, whatever happened to the Ireland mission you were sending me on."
The voice that replied was no longer unexpected. "Oh yes, you see, I was going to send you straight there, but there's this little matter in Iberia I think you should take care of."

Once more a strange flash of white, once more hooves pounding.

 

[Ashantai]

Very interesting update!

 

[Dovahkiing]

Chapter 5:
A Run in the Market
Pamplona, Navarre, 30 November, 1400
No rest for the wicked, James Audley thought. Did that make him evil? Yet another question he didn't want to answer. Winter was already clawing into his bones. Was it truly over a year since that day in Caux Harbor? No sooner had he boarded a transport for the short journey from Calais to Dover, from which he was told he would be allowed to return to Tynebridge, than a messenger boarded the transport and announced they were being 'diverted'. When the journey had passed the three-day mark James assumed that England was not, in fact, their destination. Now, as November ended, they stood before the walls of Pamplona, besides a smaller army of Aragonese troops.

England, as far as James gathered from the few council meetings he was allowed to attend, had been sucked into the war due to its alliance with Portugal, which in turn was allied to Aragon who had declared war on Navarra for some obscure dynastic reason. Fools, he thought, the infidels of Granada still lurk in the south. At least that was the line Thomas Arundel would parrot at each meeting. The Archbishop still failed to endear himself to James, as Audley waited. For what? A sign? Salvation? Jesus come again? In despair, James shouted the words of David at the enemy unseen: "Eli, Eli, lama azavtani?" My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?
And all of a sudden, through a winter fog, came a certain corporal, seemingly healed of all wounds.

Pamplona, Navarre, 29 March, 1401
What a strange four month's period had come over James. Seeing his friend return stirred up so many unmanly emotions in him: love, yearning. For the past third of a year nothing seemed to have changed: It rained on the 'just' as the English liked to think of themselves and the 'unjust' alike, and no news of whether the Navarrase had finally realized their inability to win the war except for muffled rumors of shortages in the city of water and food, and even an attempt to negotiate. Once more despair settled over James. The walls loomed large in the predawn darkness. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back. John Arenthal. "Everything will be alright," said the reappeared corporal, "everything will be alright."
And then the flood began. A great sound of stamping sounded behind the English camp, and suddenly a great mass of forms appeared, flooding into the English. James began to run, blind and panicked, followed by Arenthal. All over those hit by the bulls made great cries of pain and then moans of the dying, flying into the air and then falling to the ground, killed by the concussion. As chaos made its reign over the English, James finally stopped and looked at the ground. A dead bull was there, probably killed by a collision. He studied it, expecting to find the arms of Navarra, as if they would be so stupid to tell the world: "We did it!", but all he saw was a vague white outline underneath the horns. He looked around, expecting to see John wheezing up to him. But all he saw was what he had seen of his friend back before the walls of Caux, except this time it was much worse. John Arenthal breathed no more. There was no time or room to kneel over the corpse of his friend. Chaos reigned hard over the environs of Pamplona; The bulls were now ramming against the walls of the city, but still there was no order in the English camp. Dazed, abandoning his apparently-dead companion to the jackals, he straggled back to camp. There, he saw the royal banner flying high above the wreckage. Running over to it, he saw King Henry, surprised but seemingly unharmed, and knelt. "My Lord, I trust you are not harmed?"
Henry, as if snapping out of a trance, said: "Indeed, I am quite alright. I was in the city negotiating when the attack began, and fortunately the Navarrese let me stay inside. Now that it is over, I am here to help reorganize. We will avenge ourselves on our traitorous enemies!"

But James only smiled. "I don't think it was our enemies."

 

[Rauchen]

I like the level of mystique this AAR is maintaining. I hope it's not dead.

 

[Dovahkiing]

And here I was thinking the readership for this AAR was dead...
Who knows what fate, my keyboard, and Archbishop Thomas Arundel may bring your way...

 

[mike the knight]

xaxaxax you are such a mysterious guy man I like it

 

[nightcreature]

And here I was thinking the readership for this AAR was dead...

Ye of little faith! We (or at least I) are (am) eagerly waiting for this to return. (Even if I just started reading it now!)

 

[Dovahkiing]

Chapter 6:
The Bog of Prophecy
An Update Cut Short by Laziness

"There was an old prophecy found in a bog, Lilibullero bullen a la , Ireland'd be ruled by an ass and a dog"
-Lilibulero, by Thomas Wharton (alleged)
Carraig Feargus, Ulaidh, 19 January, 1402


This is getting ridiculous, thought James Audley. The Navarrese war had ended not long after the 'bull' incident with a full surrender of Pamplona, and indeed all of Navarra to the English, much to Aragon's dismay. But James, or all England for that matter, had not seen the end of war. Not long after the end of the Navarrese war, King Henry had proclaimed a 'holy crusade to cleanse Ireland of heresy' against the King of Ulaidh. James, or, using the title at which he no longer marveled after over two years, Colonel James Audley, had been put in command of a group of camp guards, following a short battle near Carraig Feargus in which the Ulstermen were soundly beaten and made to retreat into the aforementioned city. The days and nights passed in a rather indistinct blur until the 19th of January, on which James was woken up with no respect for his privacy. A rather burly man, Corporal William Almsbury, shook him fiercely. 'Colonel, you've got to see this!'
'Whaaat?' asked James. 'We were patrolling behind the camp until one of us disappeared. We looked for him until we found him in a bog. He was holding this."William held a parchment scroll. He opened it up. He said: "This is what it says:
North of Denmark and west of Sweden
There is set what is hidden
A tale lacking protagonists contains the answer
To: "Who is the man who wishes to be master?"

"Surely this is some sort of madman's raving?" said James, warily.
"Well, no time for that. There's some news from London, I hear." replied William.

And the man clad in white laughed as he drank the usurper's blood.

 

[BootOnFace]

very good, but I was hoping for a Wheel of Time AAR...

 

[Dovahkiing]

Sorry, I may have to put 'not a Wheel of Time AAR' in my sig to warn people...
The significance of the title 'Dragon Reborn' will be revealed in time, don't worry.

 

[Dovahkiing]

Support AARland by voting for your favorite AARs by posting in the thread which clicking on the picture will take you to! And, although you are not required to do so, it will be greatly appreciated if you support this AAR as well as all of AARland by voting for A Saga Without Heroes Part 1: Liege-Lords for Favorite CK 1/2 AAR and/or Dragon Reborn: A Narrative England AAR for Favorite EU 1/2/3 AAR!