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doktorond

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Aug 14, 2008
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Short introductory message, in which I might later proceed to post links to messages, in the way I've seen used in other AAR:s.

This is my first shot at it, I was playing a campaign in which I only wanted to try out the Deus Vult expansion. However, the gameplaying itself was a little too dull so I need something extra to spice it up. I started the game as the independent count of the Faroe Island, but the AAR:ing will start as the Duke of Iceland, in 1103. Hope you don't mind that you missed the first 37 years, but I can assure you, they were not much fun. Let's see if it improves.
 
Reykjavik, November 4th, 1103.

Dear Skjalg,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I also send my sincerest apologies for not writing before. Brothers should stay closer than we have been, no matter the geographical distance between them. I have received short notes from mother at the birth of all of your children, and at the infortunate death of your second son. So I do know that your life has probably been one of more smiles than my own.

skjalgis.jpg


Let me shortly give you an update on how we are faring up here in the north. I don't know how much mother has told you, but I thought it best that I start from the very beginning. Our father Leivur was count of Faereyar from the early death of his father Össur. Father ascended rulership in 1018, at the age of one, and ruled for fifty-five years until his death of illness in 1073. He was a lonely man, bitter, suspicious and narrow-minded. He never let anyone close to him throughout his life, and his rulership was harsh, hard and unprosperous. In 1066, at the age of 49, he married our mother Helga Crovan, daughter of the Duke of the Western Isles, and of the blood of Ivar the old. It was never a marriage of love, but a marriage in which father wanted to assure the rule of these isles would pass to someone of his own blood. I was born in '68, you in '70.

leivur.jpg


For all of his life, father dreamt of military conquests that were not to be. Most of all he looked to the south, towards the independent counties of northern Ireland where our ancestors of old used to collect taxes, and to the north of Scotland, which for times was ruled by the weak independent duchy of Moray. Alas, his plans were to waste. In his last few years he tried to mend his curse of loneliness by swearing allegiance to the Duke of Orkney, a vassal of the King of Norway. But as fate would have it, he died days before his first planned visit to the Norwegian court. That was in 1073 and I was made count of Faereyar. Our mother, never at home in our home in Torshavn, pleaded with our de facto ruler, chancellor Åsa to be remarried as she was still in her prime. On my own unselfish decision in '75, she had her way and was married to the Duke of Bosnia. She brought you to that court, leaving me as lonely as my father before me.

helga.jpg


I had the best of educations in the army, and I never lacked of anything when it comes to my person. I was always told I was one of the smartest and strongest kids ever to be raised here, and was told I would have a brilliant carrier as count in one of the strongest kingdoms in Europe.

erlend.jpg


However, youthful promises and dreams are easily crushed when you are destined to rule such a small and remote realms as our own. At the coming of age, I was full of dreams of conquest, just like father must have been. But our armies are small and fragile, and our liege in Orkney was a cowardly peaceful man. I early broke my allegiance to him, in order to swear directly to the king. Shortly after, I set sail to conquer Iceland. The duchy had just been in a confusing war against some karelian pagans and their armies were in disarray. In two wars I eonquered the island, and in 1091 at the age of 23 I was pronounced Duke of Iceland. To me, the future seemed bright.

Twelve years later, I know better. My realm is still the most remote in Europe. I have tried my hands at conquest again, I should tell you. In my Agder crusade, I had breached the walls of Agder when word reached us that the pagan chief had given up his land to the King. In the Orkney rebellion two years ago I wasted enormous amounts of money in taking Shetland, only to experience the exact same result. My loyalty to my friend king Harald is unfaltering, do not doubt. But at some times I feel like the battles I fight are someone elses battles.

To the last part of this history of our realm I want to add some information on the situation near us. England and Wales is as good as united under the great warrior king Robert, the son of king William the conqueror. In the north, the whole of Scotland was gathered under my step-father king Mael. However, his son my step-brother king Donnchad is not the man his father was, and has in his first year of regency already lost the allegiance of the dukes of Galloway and Albany. Ireland is divided between the Dukes of Leinster, Munster and Connacht, with the north swearing to Galloway. Tir Connail remains independent, and is right now what I dream of conquering. But earlier dreams of conquest has left me desillusioned. My father wasted his life staring south towards those same shores.

britt.jpg


The northern lands are neatly divided between the kings of Sweden, Denmark and Norway.

skand.jpg


Brother, the hardest part of ruling has not been the battles. It has been my unability to provide the duchy with an heir. My wife has given birth to two children. Our son Fiachu died at the age of two. Our daughter Bethoc is ten, and though she is bright, she can never rule.

My hope thus lies in the inprobable – that my wife should somehow manage to conceive a child after ten years of barrenness. This is the main reason why I write you, my brother Skjalg. You are my heir. Yet you have not ever been to Iceland, and you haven't seen Fareyar since the age of five. As I've heard you are serving as diocese bishop to our half-brother the duke of Bosnia. Do you still think you have it in you to rule? And to spend your life in these miserable isles of Faereyar and Iceland that are our home?

Send my regards to mother, our half-siblings who I've never met and to your own wife and children. Write to me soon.

Sincerely yours,
Erlend of Sudrey
Duke of Iceland
Your brother.
 
Most enemies seem to be too strong to take on, but I think opportunities will present itself soon. I hope you will be able to get a son as your current heir don't look like much :D

The images seem fine by the way ;)
 
Usora, September 25th, 1108

Brother,

The good lord knows I should have written earlier. I do not know how many times in these four years since I received your letter that I have picked up the pen and started composing something that I have later thrown away. And so I did not reply from the joy of hearing news from the homeland. It is instead in the darkest hour of impending disaster that I finally sit down to write.

I will start by telling you that all is well with us. Our mother still lives, and my children are in good health. We were very proud when word reached us that the King of Norway bestowed upon you the title Duke of Orkney.

So to the matters of importance. I have several times discussed the matter of inheritance with my eldest son, Kåre. Since you and I are of an age, Erlend, it is rather to him your plea of receiving an heir of our own family is adressed. I am but a simple bishop, a servant of the lord. If God sees fit to make me Duke of Iceland for my last few years I will accept that as my duty, but it is Kåre and later his seed that will follow you in our father's seat.


kare.jpg



Some times I wonder what the plan of the good lord was in all this. For you, who want a son of your own he deals the barenness of your wife and the death of your only son. To me, a priestly man, he gives six children. Six is enough, though, and I have recently taken a vow of celibacy.


celibat.jpg



Now to the disastrous situation that prompts me to write. Our home, yes our very lives are in danger. Our younger half-brother and my liege, XX XX, the Duke of Bosnia, is in open rebellion against his former lord the King of Croatia. Over some slight or other, he declared his independence and went to war. The war started out good – our brother is an apt general if naught else, and four months ago the king's own home fell to Bosnian troops. But the war was bound to be lost – Bosnia is on all sides surrounded by land controlled by the king, and as I write this, the king is marching on Usora with all his strength. We will fall, and it is therefore, brother, that I plead to you that you in the name of the good lord may accept us into your home on Iceland.


bosnien.jpg



It is not as refugees we would come, never believe that, but as aids in ruling the family lands. My daughter Ragna may serve as your Chancellor, she is the most well-spoken of my brood.


ragna.jpg



For myself, I was hoping to help you by serving as Diocese Bishop. And together we can raise my son Kåre to rule after you. I beg you, Erlend. As my brother, receive us into your home. Otherwise I fear for our lives.

Sincerely,
Skjalg of Sudrey,
Diocese Bishop to the Duke of Bosnia,
Your Brother
 
You had a good chancellor, I gather he is death. Thankfully the question of heirs is solved thanks to your potent bishop :D