Hi guys, SplendidTuesday here. This will be the first post of Dukas Rising; my second attempt at an AAR. I hope this goes better than my first try. Regardless, please read and comment; I'm open to any criticism. Especially if the criticism is "Are you trying to copy Rome AARisen?", because yes, I am. I'm highly influenced by General_BT's wonderful AAR, and am basing my own AAR on his, only with the poor, maligned Dukas family instead of the Komnenos. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this, so here goes!
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It is 1090 AD. Great changes have taken place in the world; chief among them in the lands of the Romanoi. Roman Emperors had come and gone, fallen to murder and death in battle. The weak Dukids had forced off the throne by various contenders; first, the promising and loyal Alexios Komnenos took power after the hapless Emperor Michael VII was slain in a battle against rebels. But Alexios himself was murdered in one of the many intrigues constantly moving in Konstantinople. Now, Georgios of the Palaeologus family holds power in Romanion.
But the Dukids, though hunted and despised, have not died out completely. Andronikos Dukas, Prince of Turnovo, has gathered the remnants of the family in his Principality, and during a series of noble rebellions against Georgios, has declared himself independent; a Despot of Turnovo. The at-best nominally militarily skilled Andronikos proceeded to conquer large swathes of Pecheneg lands with the help of a new generation of highly skilled Dukids. Now, the 53-year old Andronikos, lord of Turnovo and the new lands of Wallachia plots his next move, as Romanion is beset by the powerful princes of the Rus and the ever hungry Seljuk Turks. He calls together his relatives and advisers to give him advice.
Chapter 1: The Beginning
1090 AD, Nikopolis, Capital of the Dukid Despotate.
The dining hall was filled with shouts, oaths, and angry rants from it's occupants. Wine and food flowed freely, as did arguments. Soup was sipped between tirades, and bread was broken between insults. Sometimes, meat was even stabbed viciously to accentuate a point.
Dozens of newly enslaved Pecheneg servants scurried to and fro, attempting to please their conquerors.
"We should wage war against one of the Rus princes; not only could we gain land and riches; but Romanion would be forced to take us in once more, this time as heroes!" bellowed Staurakios Dukas, Strategos of the Despotate and youngest brother of Prince Androkinos.
"Are you a fool, cousin?" snapped Zenobios, son of the deposed Emperor Michael, and the spiritual leader over the few Christians in the Pecheneg parts of the Despotate. "The Pechenegs have not even been subdued fully; do you expect them to lay down like a dog and obey us while our army is away pillaging the Rus?" The young priest harrumphed loudly. "Few enough of the Pechenegs have accepted baptism. Why should we trust them to have loyalty to us? Besides, the Empire will only welcome us back once we are paupers. No, we should wait until more of the Pechenegs are loyal to the Church, not to their chiefs. Then we can"
Staurakios glared at his priestly relative. "You say that solely because you want to collect offerings from baptized barbarians. You want to sit at home like Michael and count coins." The Strategos used a piece of goat's cheese to gesture rudely at a thin man sitting off at a side table on the other side of the dining hall.
The aforementioned Michael, Logethetes** of the Despotate and bearer of the nickname "Purse-pincher" sneered at Staurakios. "Your way would leave us without coin and under the purple boot of Georgios. Your way would have us be slaves to those who murdered our kinsman. Your way would be the Latin way."
The strategos abruptly stood up, knocking over the crude wooden shapes that passed for chairs in the Despotate. "How dare you! I should have you flayed for that! I-"
As the master of coin and the master-at-arms bickered, no one noticed a quiet figure get up from his seat and leave the dining hall.
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Romanos* Dukas liked roaming the the quiet halls of the fortress of Nikopolis when all his family was busing dining. The silence comforted him. No bickering cousins, no ungodly loud eating, and no one expecting him to offer his opinion. The stone and wood walls of Nikopolis were as quiet as he preferred to be.
Romanos's footsteps pattered along as he treaded through the fortress. He passed the dining hall, and went towards kitchen, where Pecheneg servants chattered away in their native tongue. Romanos paused at the threshold to the kitchen. He knew the Pecheng tongue, and perhaps he could listen to a conversation more thrilling then the dull, expected bickering of his relatives. He stood stone-still, waiting for something interesting to be said.
"Arrogant Greeks. They strut around like goats in the mating season. They think we will submit to their rule and their priests just because they hold a sword to our throats." A Pecheneg cook muttered to another Pecheneg while he scattered a few spices into a cauldron of soup.
An artist's conceptualization of a Pecheneg warrior, whether fighting against the Despotate or serving in its armies. It is likely that these cooks were once warriors, and equipped similarly to this, only shabbier.
"Careful, Kuchug. The gods know who could be listening to what we see. The Greeks may be arrogant, but they're also paranoid; their chiefs scheme more than ours do." The second man replied.
"Ha, true. In fact, I hear one of their lesser chiefs schemes to-" Kuchug,the first Pecheneg, leaned in close to his friend, causing Romanos to move forward in order to listen to the barbarian. Romanos took one step too far and too loud, and the Pechenegs stopped speaking. They turned towards him with false smiles that Romanos felt would look better on statues then men.
"Can help you?" asked the first Pecheneg in horribly broken and accented Greek.
I know your native tongue, Romanos felt like saying, but instead he copied the false smile of the servants and merely said "No. Your cooking is fit for a prince, however." Which wasn't a complete lie. He did prefer the hearty food of the Pechenegs to the over-spiced fare imported from Romanion.
The quiet prince gave one more false smile to the cooks, then treaded slowly past them, unobtrusively listening again to their conversation as he walked away.
"That Greek is an odd one. Quieter than most. And he bothers to praise us. Most Greeks sneer at our ways. If that one becomes chief after his father dies..."
Romanos had walked beyond the distance that he could still hear the Pechenegs by now, and he ceased trying to listen. He had learned all he needed to know about the Pechenegs for now, and now he needed to write it down. He was heir to the Despotate after all, and writing treatises on the people of the Despostate could help future rulers. Besides, there was nothing worth listening to back in the dining hall. Romanos knew what choice his father would pick.
Even if strategos Staurakios gathered together all the troops in the Despotate and headed for the Rus lands, Prince Andronikos would deny them his support and supplies. His father hated his fellow Romans for their destruction of the Dukas family's power, so he wouldn't lift a finger to help Romanion against the Rus or the Turks. Unless he saw an opportunity to regain the office of Emperor for his family, Romanos knew that his father would gladly see Romanion burn.
Romanos headed for the library of Nikopolis, which had become like a second bedroom for him.
Walking into the modest-looking room (compared, at least, to the libraries of Romanion), Romanos sat down and began writing.
The only sound in the entire room was the sound of Romanos's quill scratching parchment. "A wise ruler must always pay attention to the non-Romans, the so-called barbarians within his territory. A particular fearsome group are the Pechenegi, who..."
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*Logothetes basically means Minister of finance.
**Romanos was named Vladislav in the game (as he is of Bulgarian culture), but at this point, while the Dukids are still very Greek/Roman, I figured giving him a generic Greek name that means "Roman" would fit. But remember his original name; it'll be important later.
------
It is 1090 AD. Great changes have taken place in the world; chief among them in the lands of the Romanoi. Roman Emperors had come and gone, fallen to murder and death in battle. The weak Dukids had forced off the throne by various contenders; first, the promising and loyal Alexios Komnenos took power after the hapless Emperor Michael VII was slain in a battle against rebels. But Alexios himself was murdered in one of the many intrigues constantly moving in Konstantinople. Now, Georgios of the Palaeologus family holds power in Romanion.
But the Dukids, though hunted and despised, have not died out completely. Andronikos Dukas, Prince of Turnovo, has gathered the remnants of the family in his Principality, and during a series of noble rebellions against Georgios, has declared himself independent; a Despot of Turnovo. The at-best nominally militarily skilled Andronikos proceeded to conquer large swathes of Pecheneg lands with the help of a new generation of highly skilled Dukids. Now, the 53-year old Andronikos, lord of Turnovo and the new lands of Wallachia plots his next move, as Romanion is beset by the powerful princes of the Rus and the ever hungry Seljuk Turks. He calls together his relatives and advisers to give him advice.
Chapter 1: The Beginning
1090 AD, Nikopolis, Capital of the Dukid Despotate.
The dining hall was filled with shouts, oaths, and angry rants from it's occupants. Wine and food flowed freely, as did arguments. Soup was sipped between tirades, and bread was broken between insults. Sometimes, meat was even stabbed viciously to accentuate a point.
Dozens of newly enslaved Pecheneg servants scurried to and fro, attempting to please their conquerors.
"We should wage war against one of the Rus princes; not only could we gain land and riches; but Romanion would be forced to take us in once more, this time as heroes!" bellowed Staurakios Dukas, Strategos of the Despotate and youngest brother of Prince Androkinos.
"Are you a fool, cousin?" snapped Zenobios, son of the deposed Emperor Michael, and the spiritual leader over the few Christians in the Pecheneg parts of the Despotate. "The Pechenegs have not even been subdued fully; do you expect them to lay down like a dog and obey us while our army is away pillaging the Rus?" The young priest harrumphed loudly. "Few enough of the Pechenegs have accepted baptism. Why should we trust them to have loyalty to us? Besides, the Empire will only welcome us back once we are paupers. No, we should wait until more of the Pechenegs are loyal to the Church, not to their chiefs. Then we can"
Staurakios glared at his priestly relative. "You say that solely because you want to collect offerings from baptized barbarians. You want to sit at home like Michael and count coins." The Strategos used a piece of goat's cheese to gesture rudely at a thin man sitting off at a side table on the other side of the dining hall.
The aforementioned Michael, Logethetes** of the Despotate and bearer of the nickname "Purse-pincher" sneered at Staurakios. "Your way would leave us without coin and under the purple boot of Georgios. Your way would have us be slaves to those who murdered our kinsman. Your way would be the Latin way."
The strategos abruptly stood up, knocking over the crude wooden shapes that passed for chairs in the Despotate. "How dare you! I should have you flayed for that! I-"
As the master of coin and the master-at-arms bickered, no one noticed a quiet figure get up from his seat and leave the dining hall.
--------------
Romanos* Dukas liked roaming the the quiet halls of the fortress of Nikopolis when all his family was busing dining. The silence comforted him. No bickering cousins, no ungodly loud eating, and no one expecting him to offer his opinion. The stone and wood walls of Nikopolis were as quiet as he preferred to be.
Romanos's footsteps pattered along as he treaded through the fortress. He passed the dining hall, and went towards kitchen, where Pecheneg servants chattered away in their native tongue. Romanos paused at the threshold to the kitchen. He knew the Pecheng tongue, and perhaps he could listen to a conversation more thrilling then the dull, expected bickering of his relatives. He stood stone-still, waiting for something interesting to be said.
"Arrogant Greeks. They strut around like goats in the mating season. They think we will submit to their rule and their priests just because they hold a sword to our throats." A Pecheneg cook muttered to another Pecheneg while he scattered a few spices into a cauldron of soup.
An artist's conceptualization of a Pecheneg warrior, whether fighting against the Despotate or serving in its armies. It is likely that these cooks were once warriors, and equipped similarly to this, only shabbier.
"Careful, Kuchug. The gods know who could be listening to what we see. The Greeks may be arrogant, but they're also paranoid; their chiefs scheme more than ours do." The second man replied.
"Ha, true. In fact, I hear one of their lesser chiefs schemes to-" Kuchug,the first Pecheneg, leaned in close to his friend, causing Romanos to move forward in order to listen to the barbarian. Romanos took one step too far and too loud, and the Pechenegs stopped speaking. They turned towards him with false smiles that Romanos felt would look better on statues then men.
"Can help you?" asked the first Pecheneg in horribly broken and accented Greek.
I know your native tongue, Romanos felt like saying, but instead he copied the false smile of the servants and merely said "No. Your cooking is fit for a prince, however." Which wasn't a complete lie. He did prefer the hearty food of the Pechenegs to the over-spiced fare imported from Romanion.
The quiet prince gave one more false smile to the cooks, then treaded slowly past them, unobtrusively listening again to their conversation as he walked away.
"That Greek is an odd one. Quieter than most. And he bothers to praise us. Most Greeks sneer at our ways. If that one becomes chief after his father dies..."
Romanos had walked beyond the distance that he could still hear the Pechenegs by now, and he ceased trying to listen. He had learned all he needed to know about the Pechenegs for now, and now he needed to write it down. He was heir to the Despotate after all, and writing treatises on the people of the Despostate could help future rulers. Besides, there was nothing worth listening to back in the dining hall. Romanos knew what choice his father would pick.
Even if strategos Staurakios gathered together all the troops in the Despotate and headed for the Rus lands, Prince Andronikos would deny them his support and supplies. His father hated his fellow Romans for their destruction of the Dukas family's power, so he wouldn't lift a finger to help Romanion against the Rus or the Turks. Unless he saw an opportunity to regain the office of Emperor for his family, Romanos knew that his father would gladly see Romanion burn.
Romanos headed for the library of Nikopolis, which had become like a second bedroom for him.
Walking into the modest-looking room (compared, at least, to the libraries of Romanion), Romanos sat down and began writing.
The only sound in the entire room was the sound of Romanos's quill scratching parchment. "A wise ruler must always pay attention to the non-Romans, the so-called barbarians within his territory. A particular fearsome group are the Pechenegi, who..."
------
*Logothetes basically means Minister of finance.
**Romanos was named Vladislav in the game (as he is of Bulgarian culture), but at this point, while the Dukids are still very Greek/Roman, I figured giving him a generic Greek name that means "Roman" would fit. But remember his original name; it'll be important later.
