Far too much fresh blood in those match ups and not enough cousin marriage to be proper Habsburgs, but the dynasty is young so there is still time. Maybe Lucifer's Own will encourage them to 'keep the family pure and strong'?
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Hello Habsburg fans!
First off, I want to apologize if a few of you saw that I had posted and scrambled here hoping to see Chapter 4 and felt disappointed to get...whatever this is.
I wanted to give you all a “production update” since as you might have noticed, I took the weekend off from writing new chapters to recharge my creative writing batteries.
Those new chapters are coming, have no fear, but I’m going to experiment with a different production schedule this week and possibly into next to see how it affects the quality and structure of the chapters, as well as the speed at which I can actually write them.
Last week was a loop of full days of writing in a plain text document and going back through saves for missing pieces of information and images, followed by almost another full day of going back through saves again to collect images I’d forgotten to get or didn’t know I wanted the day before, cropping them, inserting them, and formatting the text.
Fortunately, the further along I get in the campaign, the more pictures I already have, so that should alleviate one bottleneck eventually and save me tons of time.
But the other concern I was having was that since I wasn’t writing the following chapter until after the previous one came out, I was occasionally running into issues with meeting the expectations I’d teased at the end of the previous chapter. I was ready to end Chapter 2 at Werner’s death (it was certainly long enough by that point), but I’d foolishly teased the beginning of Otto’s story at the end of Chapter 1.
Not wanting to lose your good faith, I shoehorned the beginning of Otto’s story in, and as a result Chapter 2 is about triple the word count of Chapter 1. It's also, I would argue, a worse chapter structurally than I would have made in the absence of my own rash promises.
However, I still like having those little teasers to keep you all in suspense, so rather than scrap that and cut off my nose to spite my face, I’m going to try a new cycle over the course this week and next where I write two or three chapters in a session before releasing them. I think the Monday-Wednesday-Friday releases worked out well, so I’d like to work my way back to that, but that won’t be possible until I’ve got a couple chapters’ worth of buffer between what chapter is due to release and what chapter I’m currently working on. And yes, you are free to repost this meme if I slip up and you feel it's appropriate. My gift to you
You can most likely look forward to Chapter 4 dropping this Wednesday, and Chapter 5 will be either this Friday or Monday a week from today depending on when I determine that I’ve given myself enough breathing room. My hope is that these chapters will have better starting and ending points than The Terrible Two, and that perhaps writing with those points in mind will lead to a more efficient writing process, even if the chapters are about the same length as they’ve been thus far (excluding You-Know-You, of course).
Looking further ahead, at some point in June I’ll be out of the red, so to speak, meaning I’ll have caught this AAR up to where my actual campaign is currently sitting, waiting for me to return.
At that point I expect to have to change up my release schedule, because if you haven’t noticed by now my production cycles so far haven’t included actually playing the game! Mid-June is also going to (hopefully) herald the start of summer camp here in the US, and I have a camp counselor job lined up, so that’s going to greatly reduce the amount of time I have to work on this project compared to the present situation where I’m under a stay-at-home order! The most likely scenario is that you‘ll see chapters being released over the weekend or Monday evenings (US/Canada Eastern Time).
Then there's the other inevitable challenge...
Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that Crusader Kings III is dropping on September 1, and I hope you are all as excited as I am! The challenge is that I'm really gonna want to dive into that game, and knowing myself it'll be hard to go back to CK2, and there's no way of knowing where the campaign will be at that point. How many titles will we have checked off our list? Will a Habsburg Holy Roman Emperor have happened? Will we achieve the Holy Trinity of a genius inbred Habsburg?
To be quite honest with you all, I'm perfectly fine calling it quits after we've managed to get any title with the name "Austria" in it and have become Emperor at some point. That might be enough of a challenge to take us into September, after which I can feel less guilty about leaving CK2 behind and trying out my new genius campaign idea: Forming a Crusader State, then splitting from Rome while taking the Islamic Syncretism Tenet but keeping the Ecumenism doctrine to straddle the lines between Catholicism and Islam and make everyone like me!
If what I just said made zero sense, go brush up on the Heresies and Doctrines dev diary.
TL;DR:
One final word: another thank-you to my very first fan, @Bullfilter, who seized an opportunity to nominate this AAR for the Weekly Showcase. If you found yourself here because of the Showcase thread, pleaseblame thank @Bullfilter and show his own work some love! Also check out the new Showcase: The Quest for the Amulet of Malik Bahram Lodi - A Sirhind AAR!
Best Wishes,
Green Rice
First off, I want to apologize if a few of you saw that I had posted and scrambled here hoping to see Chapter 4 and felt disappointed to get...whatever this is.
I wanted to give you all a “production update” since as you might have noticed, I took the weekend off from writing new chapters to recharge my creative writing batteries.
Those new chapters are coming, have no fear, but I’m going to experiment with a different production schedule this week and possibly into next to see how it affects the quality and structure of the chapters, as well as the speed at which I can actually write them.
Last week was a loop of full days of writing in a plain text document and going back through saves for missing pieces of information and images, followed by almost another full day of going back through saves again to collect images I’d forgotten to get or didn’t know I wanted the day before, cropping them, inserting them, and formatting the text.
Fortunately, the further along I get in the campaign, the more pictures I already have, so that should alleviate one bottleneck eventually and save me tons of time.
But the other concern I was having was that since I wasn’t writing the following chapter until after the previous one came out, I was occasionally running into issues with meeting the expectations I’d teased at the end of the previous chapter. I was ready to end Chapter 2 at Werner’s death (it was certainly long enough by that point), but I’d foolishly teased the beginning of Otto’s story at the end of Chapter 1.
Not wanting to lose your good faith, I shoehorned the beginning of Otto’s story in, and as a result Chapter 2 is about triple the word count of Chapter 1. It's also, I would argue, a worse chapter structurally than I would have made in the absence of my own rash promises.
However, I still like having those little teasers to keep you all in suspense, so rather than scrap that and cut off my nose to spite my face, I’m going to try a new cycle over the course this week and next where I write two or three chapters in a session before releasing them. I think the Monday-Wednesday-Friday releases worked out well, so I’d like to work my way back to that, but that won’t be possible until I’ve got a couple chapters’ worth of buffer between what chapter is due to release and what chapter I’m currently working on. And yes, you are free to repost this meme if I slip up and you feel it's appropriate. My gift to you
You can most likely look forward to Chapter 4 dropping this Wednesday, and Chapter 5 will be either this Friday or Monday a week from today depending on when I determine that I’ve given myself enough breathing room. My hope is that these chapters will have better starting and ending points than The Terrible Two, and that perhaps writing with those points in mind will lead to a more efficient writing process, even if the chapters are about the same length as they’ve been thus far (excluding You-Know-You, of course).
Looking further ahead, at some point in June I’ll be out of the red, so to speak, meaning I’ll have caught this AAR up to where my actual campaign is currently sitting, waiting for me to return.
At that point I expect to have to change up my release schedule, because if you haven’t noticed by now my production cycles so far haven’t included actually playing the game! Mid-June is also going to (hopefully) herald the start of summer camp here in the US, and I have a camp counselor job lined up, so that’s going to greatly reduce the amount of time I have to work on this project compared to the present situation where I’m under a stay-at-home order! The most likely scenario is that you‘ll see chapters being released over the weekend or Monday evenings (US/Canada Eastern Time).
Then there's the other inevitable challenge...
Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that Crusader Kings III is dropping on September 1, and I hope you are all as excited as I am! The challenge is that I'm really gonna want to dive into that game, and knowing myself it'll be hard to go back to CK2, and there's no way of knowing where the campaign will be at that point. How many titles will we have checked off our list? Will a Habsburg Holy Roman Emperor have happened? Will we achieve the Holy Trinity of a genius inbred Habsburg?
To be quite honest with you all, I'm perfectly fine calling it quits after we've managed to get any title with the name "Austria" in it and have become Emperor at some point. That might be enough of a challenge to take us into September, after which I can feel less guilty about leaving CK2 behind and trying out my new genius campaign idea: Forming a Crusader State, then splitting from Rome while taking the Islamic Syncretism Tenet but keeping the Ecumenism doctrine to straddle the lines between Catholicism and Islam and make everyone like me!
If what I just said made zero sense, go brush up on the Heresies and Doctrines dev diary.
TL;DR:
- Chapter 4 on Wednesday
- Chapter 5 either Friday or Monday
- Chapter 6+ release dates TBD
- Releases will likely scale back to once-weekly after June 15
- Very likely this AAR will end in September as author will be jumping ship to go play CK3. Possible stay of execution if I'm really bad at playing this game.
- I had way too much fun on imgflip today
One final word: another thank-you to my very first fan, @Bullfilter, who seized an opportunity to nominate this AAR for the Weekly Showcase. If you found yourself here because of the Showcase thread, please
Best Wishes,
Green Rice
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Thanks @Green Rice - you even make your own ‘dev diary’ updates amusing! I for one appreciate authAARs taking the trouble to explain these thoughts and processes OOC. I wouldn’t stress too much about matching the teaser lines in the next episode - people won’t mind if it takes an extra chapter or two. TBH, many won’t notice, and fewer will care if they do! Also on the production schedule: you have worked that out well. Again, don’t be too worried on our behalf if it stretches sometimes - there are some great authAARs out there with long running and heavily subscribed stories that take a lot longer. Whatever you’re comfortable with so it’s still fun and manageable for you.
Happy Memorial Day to you too! Our big equivalent day here - ANZAC Day - on April 25 was effectively suspended in its physical form for the first time in 100 years due to the bloody coronavirus!
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Happy Memorial Day to you too! Our big equivalent day here - ANZAC Day - on April 25 was effectively suspended in its physical form for the first time in 100 years due to the bloody coronavirus!
So sorry to hear that! But I’m sure that the brave men and women who’ve given their lives for Australia and New Zealand would be happy and honored just to know that you were thinking of them. That’s what really matters. Anyone can go through the pomp and the ritual and yet be emotionally detached from it all. Really internalizing the significance of the sacrifices made by our servicemen and servicewomen and turning that empathy and understanding into a conviction to prevent further needless bloodshed is what makes ANZAC Day and Memorial Day and Remembrance Sunday and their equivalents actually important.
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Definitely agree. Serving for 23 tears in our army and another 17 as a defence civilian (all without actually going into combat - it all started happening a year after I'd left the uniform behind, when they hit the Twin Towers) it means a lot. That and having a grandfather who served throughout WW1 on the Western Front (with the British Army). Worked a lot with our US comrades over my time as well - close bond there, too.
Chapter 4: Franche-Comté Chainsaw Massacre (sans Chainsaw)
Chapter 4: Franche-Comté Chainsaw Massacre (sans Chainsaw)
Spring had arrived in Switzerland. The last of winter’s cold winds were making their final circuits around the Alps before they faded from the world, and with one of them came a strange visiter to Basel: an Orthodox bishop named Ioustinianos of Amphissa. Unlike that of most traveling priests, Ioustinianos’ arrival in Switzerland was heralded not with joyous tidings of an inspiring man of God, preaching wisdom or performing healing, but dark rumors and secret whispers. This Greek was a strange fellow, it was said. A charitable man who gave alms to beggars as he passed, yet also known for speaking in tongues at unpredictable times, and always quick to anger when others inquired about it.
When Ioustinianos arrives at the gates to Habsburg Castle, Duke Otto, intrigued by the rumors and speculation, goes against his councillor’s protests and invites the priest in. Ioustinianos explains that he is on the road with a dual purpose: to serve the people, but also to foster good relations between his hosts and the Count of Thebes, whom he serves as Magistros.
“Count Demetrios must be very wise,” Duchess Gisèle says in her best Greek, “to select a man of the cloth as his trusted diplomat. Who better to speak of wisdom and peace than a clergyman? And what better way for you to serve God than to preach His word on your many journeys?”
“Ah,” Ioustinianos corrects her, “I fear that sermons have never been my strong suit, unlike my noble hosts, I was born on the streets of Thebes, and did not learn to read or write until I joined the priesthood. Although my skill with the spoken word gained me the attention of his lordship, to my shame I have ever struggled to gain the same insights as my betters when I study the written word of God. And so my words to the people are often pulled from the feelings of my heart than directly from the Bible, yet I feel divine inspiration with me as I speak nonetheless, and that reassures me that what I speak is no less truthful or right.”
Gisèle, not quite sure what to make of such a statement, merely nods and resumes eating her roast pheasant.
After dinner, Duke Otto meets with Ioustinianos for a private chat, and is surprised when Ioustinianos pulls up his sleeve to reveal a faded scar in an unmistakable pentagram.
“I had my suspicions from your comments at dinner,” Otto says in a low voice, “but I must admit, they alone were not enough to convince me that a brother could be hiding under the robes of the enemy’s servants. I envy your ability to pull off such a double-act, I doubt I would be able to play the part as well as you. Pray tell, how long has this charade been going on?”
“Fourteen years this month, sir,” replies Ioustinianos. “I am here, as you may now suspect, for a third reason that I could not mention while other ears were present. The High Priest has instructed me to seek you out and instruct you in rituals that as a novitiate you were not previously permitted to partake in, for the faint of heart and doubtful of conviction can seldom suffer them.”
“I assure you no such afflictions ail me,” Otto responds with an edge in his voice. “Show me these rituals. Reveal more secrets to me. I am ready.”
“Very well,” Ioustinianos concedes. “Tomorrow, I will announce my intention to travel on to the court of your brother-in-law. You will then suggest that your wife travel with me, so that she may visit her family, and that you will lead our escort to the borders of your lands. Bring with you a set of common garments that you might disguise your identity and slip out of camp with me unnoticed when the time comes.”
Otto does exactly as Ioustinianos instructed, and on the tenth night of April, he is woken by the false priest in his tent well past sunset. Ioustinianos says no words for fear of their discovery, but he has no need of them, having prepared Otto back in Basel. In peasants’ clothings they skirt past the watchmen and walk in silence towards the nearby hamlet just over the border into the province of Varais.
Ioustinianos stops right in front of a farmhouse on the outskirts of town.
“I went ahead this morning and met this family,” he explains in a whisper so soft Otto has to strain to hear. “Their devotion to the tyrant Jehovah is unyielding, they are examples to their village, and tonight you and I will make them examples of a different kind.” He hands Otto a long, cruel knife that he had hidden under his robes. “I will knock on their door, they will be more likely answer for someone they already know. Hide behind the corner of the house, out of sight from the windows or door. When I draw them outside, you seize whoever answers. If both of them answer, you will take the husband, and I will take the wife.”
“Well,” says Ioustinianos, hands on his hips as he admires their handiwork. “I’d say we’ve done good work today, my friend. Let us be gone and return to camp before our absence is noticed.”
“You said we’d make them into examples,” Otto stops him. “With them in this state, it could almost be mistaken for a burglary. Let us make sure that there is no doubt who their souls were sacrificed to.”
By now they had been gone several hours, they reckoned, and although daybreak was still a ways off, the road back to camp was neither straight nor short. So to conserve what time they had, they converted what simple farm tools they could find—pitchforks, hoes, scythes—into makeshift pikes. In front of the house they suspended the family, remarking the good coincidence that there were five members with which they could mark out a pentagram, gouging ruts in the dirt between the stakes to leave no doubts that their design was intentional. With that, Otto was satisfied, and they began the return journey.
“I must admit, Duke Otto,” Ioustinianos remarks, “I have been quite impressed. You took to this mission like a duck to water.”
They arrive back at camp with time yet to spare, so Ioustinianos leads Otto to his tent, where he produces a strange vial from his bags.
“A special toast to the occasion, a liquor reserved for trusted members of our order.” Otto and Ioustinianos divide the contents of the small vial between two flasks and down in all in a single gulp. But as Otto retires to his own tent to see what sleep he can find before dawn, his head aches, and when he does lay down on his bedroll, his dreams are filled with stars and planets. Things stranger still haunt his nightmares, but when he wakes, he remembers nothing save the sensation of fear.
The next day Ioustinianos and Gisèle cross into Varais and depart Otto’s company. The Duke of Transjurania rides for home with his guards, but his mind is restless the whole journey back, filled with strange thoughts and urges. On a day when he finds his woolen trousers uncomfortably itchy, he contemplates banning the garments from the realm altogether. As an advisor drones on while they ride on horseback, he considers giving the horse he is riding the advisor’s job. And every night the only dream he remembers is the same: stars and planets whirling in the heavens, accompanied by other bodies Otto does not recognize.
About a month after parting ways with Ioustinianos, on 29 June, 1081, Vladislav Premyslid is declared King of Poland by his victorious father, Vratislav. All over Poland, heralds proclaim the news, although they do encounter some slight difficulties. A Polish historian living in Poznań at the time gives the following account:
Meanwhile, back in Basel, Duke Otto spends most of the summer frantically raving about stars and worlds beyond Earth. His family and courtiers begin to call him mad in private. Finally, on Sunday, 15 August 1081, Otto orders his steward, an African eunuch named Alayaman, to allocate funds for a new observatory, which Otto will personally conduct research from.
Next Time...
Otto uncovers strange and mysterious forces, and both Habsburgs and Premyslids make moves on foreign thrones.
Spring had arrived in Switzerland. The last of winter’s cold winds were making their final circuits around the Alps before they faded from the world, and with one of them came a strange visiter to Basel: an Orthodox bishop named Ioustinianos of Amphissa. Unlike that of most traveling priests, Ioustinianos’ arrival in Switzerland was heralded not with joyous tidings of an inspiring man of God, preaching wisdom or performing healing, but dark rumors and secret whispers. This Greek was a strange fellow, it was said. A charitable man who gave alms to beggars as he passed, yet also known for speaking in tongues at unpredictable times, and always quick to anger when others inquired about it.
When Ioustinianos arrives at the gates to Habsburg Castle, Duke Otto, intrigued by the rumors and speculation, goes against his councillor’s protests and invites the priest in. Ioustinianos explains that he is on the road with a dual purpose: to serve the people, but also to foster good relations between his hosts and the Count of Thebes, whom he serves as Magistros.
“Count Demetrios must be very wise,” Duchess Gisèle says in her best Greek, “to select a man of the cloth as his trusted diplomat. Who better to speak of wisdom and peace than a clergyman? And what better way for you to serve God than to preach His word on your many journeys?”
“Ah,” Ioustinianos corrects her, “I fear that sermons have never been my strong suit, unlike my noble hosts, I was born on the streets of Thebes, and did not learn to read or write until I joined the priesthood. Although my skill with the spoken word gained me the attention of his lordship, to my shame I have ever struggled to gain the same insights as my betters when I study the written word of God. And so my words to the people are often pulled from the feelings of my heart than directly from the Bible, yet I feel divine inspiration with me as I speak nonetheless, and that reassures me that what I speak is no less truthful or right.”
Gisèle, not quite sure what to make of such a statement, merely nods and resumes eating her roast pheasant.
After dinner, Duke Otto meets with Ioustinianos for a private chat, and is surprised when Ioustinianos pulls up his sleeve to reveal a faded scar in an unmistakable pentagram.
“I had my suspicions from your comments at dinner,” Otto says in a low voice, “but I must admit, they alone were not enough to convince me that a brother could be hiding under the robes of the enemy’s servants. I envy your ability to pull off such a double-act, I doubt I would be able to play the part as well as you. Pray tell, how long has this charade been going on?”
“Fourteen years this month, sir,” replies Ioustinianos. “I am here, as you may now suspect, for a third reason that I could not mention while other ears were present. The High Priest has instructed me to seek you out and instruct you in rituals that as a novitiate you were not previously permitted to partake in, for the faint of heart and doubtful of conviction can seldom suffer them.”
“I assure you no such afflictions ail me,” Otto responds with an edge in his voice. “Show me these rituals. Reveal more secrets to me. I am ready.”
“Very well,” Ioustinianos concedes. “Tomorrow, I will announce my intention to travel on to the court of your brother-in-law. You will then suggest that your wife travel with me, so that she may visit her family, and that you will lead our escort to the borders of your lands. Bring with you a set of common garments that you might disguise your identity and slip out of camp with me unnoticed when the time comes.”
Otto does exactly as Ioustinianos instructed, and on the tenth night of April, he is woken by the false priest in his tent well past sunset. Ioustinianos says no words for fear of their discovery, but he has no need of them, having prepared Otto back in Basel. In peasants’ clothings they skirt past the watchmen and walk in silence towards the nearby hamlet just over the border into the province of Varais.
Ioustinianos stops right in front of a farmhouse on the outskirts of town.
“I went ahead this morning and met this family,” he explains in a whisper so soft Otto has to strain to hear. “Their devotion to the tyrant Jehovah is unyielding, they are examples to their village, and tonight you and I will make them examples of a different kind.” He hands Otto a long, cruel knife that he had hidden under his robes. “I will knock on their door, they will be more likely answer for someone they already know. Hide behind the corner of the house, out of sight from the windows or door. When I draw them outside, you seize whoever answers. If both of them answer, you will take the husband, and I will take the wife.”
It is the husband who ends up answering. Ioustinianos had not warned of how strong he was, so Otto has to hit him in the temple with the hilt of the knife to stop him resisting. Ioustinianos runs inside to intercept the wife, who had been alerted by her husband’s cries of alarm. She is much more compliant, and so Otto only has to bother with tying up the husband. When that is done, Ioustinianos has him guard the wife while he takes the three children out behind the house. When he returns some minutes later, he and Otto agree that the young wife is very pretty, so Otto cuts away her shift while Ioustinianos rouses the husband. They both take turns while the husband watches, first in rage and then through tears. At Ioustinianos’ urging, Otto finishes his last turn by plunging his knife into her heart. The husband screams, but no one beyond his captors is close enough to hear. Ioustinianos apologizes to the husband for forgetting to give him a turn, so he releases the bindings and laughes as the weeping man makes love to his wife’s corpse at knifepoint. When the man finishes, Otto, feeling inspired, quickly seizes the man by the hair before he has a chance to do anything else, wrenches his head back, and slits his throat in one swift motion. The man collapses on top of his wife.
“Well,” says Ioustinianos, hands on his hips as he admires their handiwork. “I’d say we’ve done good work today, my friend. Let us be gone and return to camp before our absence is noticed.”
“You said we’d make them into examples,” Otto stops him. “With them in this state, it could almost be mistaken for a burglary. Let us make sure that there is no doubt who their souls were sacrificed to.”
By now they had been gone several hours, they reckoned, and although daybreak was still a ways off, the road back to camp was neither straight nor short. So to conserve what time they had, they converted what simple farm tools they could find—pitchforks, hoes, scythes—into makeshift pikes. In front of the house they suspended the family, remarking the good coincidence that there were five members with which they could mark out a pentagram, gouging ruts in the dirt between the stakes to leave no doubts that their design was intentional. With that, Otto was satisfied, and they began the return journey.
“I must admit, Duke Otto,” Ioustinianos remarks, “I have been quite impressed. You took to this mission like a duck to water.”
They arrive back at camp with time yet to spare, so Ioustinianos leads Otto to his tent, where he produces a strange vial from his bags.
“A special toast to the occasion, a liquor reserved for trusted members of our order.” Otto and Ioustinianos divide the contents of the small vial between two flasks and down in all in a single gulp. But as Otto retires to his own tent to see what sleep he can find before dawn, his head aches, and when he does lay down on his bedroll, his dreams are filled with stars and planets. Things stranger still haunt his nightmares, but when he wakes, he remembers nothing save the sensation of fear.
The next day Ioustinianos and Gisèle cross into Varais and depart Otto’s company. The Duke of Transjurania rides for home with his guards, but his mind is restless the whole journey back, filled with strange thoughts and urges. On a day when he finds his woolen trousers uncomfortably itchy, he contemplates banning the garments from the realm altogether. As an advisor drones on while they ride on horseback, he considers giving the horse he is riding the advisor’s job. And every night the only dream he remembers is the same: stars and planets whirling in the heavens, accompanied by other bodies Otto does not recognize.
About a month after parting ways with Ioustinianos, on 29 June, 1081, Vladislav Premyslid is declared King of Poland by his victorious father, Vratislav. All over Poland, heralds proclaim the news, although they do encounter some slight difficulties. A Polish historian living in Poznań at the time gives the following account:
Meanwhile, back in Basel, Duke Otto spends most of the summer frantically raving about stars and worlds beyond Earth. His family and courtiers begin to call him mad in private. Finally, on Sunday, 15 August 1081, Otto orders his steward, an African eunuch named Alayaman, to allocate funds for a new observatory, which Otto will personally conduct research from.
Next Time...
Otto uncovers strange and mysterious forces, and both Habsburgs and Premyslids make moves on foreign thrones.
Last edited:
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Well, that was a gruesome scene.
Surprising that a devil-worshipper could so convincingly disguise himself as a priest.
Vladislav vs. Vratislav, and the peasants not being able to tell the difference... hilarious - also, likely accurate.
Surprising that a devil-worshipper could so convincingly disguise himself as a priest.
Vladislav vs. Vratislav, and the peasants not being able to tell the difference... hilarious - also, likely accurate.
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Well that was all a bit grim. I was hoping for a bit more razzle dazzle and a bit less grizzly misery from my Habsburgs I will admit.
Well, I suppose that’s what you get when you go down the Devil-worshipping path! The dazzle is very red-looking at the moment. I’m sure Otto will eventually come to a foul and/or grisly end himself.
The dazzle is very red-looking at the moment. I’m sure Otto will eventually come to a foul and/or grisly end himself.
Hey everyone!
Just wanted to respond to your initial feedback on Chapter 4.
I understand that the "grimdark" feel of this episode was...not what you expected. I tried to capture my own horror at going down this event chain for the first time in the retelling, and understandably, it felt like a sudden tonal shift compared to the beginning of the series.
To hopefully alleviate some concerns, I will tell you if you wish to know that the next chapter will likely be the last we see of Duke Otto and that after Duke Otto's time is done there is nothing nearly as dark sitting in my backlog of content. The titular "razzle dazzle" and the humor (if I find good moments for it, unfortunately I'm not making as many hilarious mistakes as a player as I did in chapter 1) will return, but for now I feel it would be a disservice to the character of Otto to play the events of his life entirely for laughs and disregard the sick, twisted violence that comes with being in the Satanist society.
Long story short, this chapter is just a phase that will pass. In fact, you've already passed it!
Best Wishes,
Green Rice
Just wanted to respond to your initial feedback on Chapter 4.
I understand that the "grimdark" feel of this episode was...not what you expected. I tried to capture my own horror at going down this event chain for the first time in the retelling, and understandably, it felt like a sudden tonal shift compared to the beginning of the series.
To hopefully alleviate some concerns, I will tell you if you wish to know that the next chapter will likely be the last we see of Duke Otto and that after Duke Otto's time is done there is nothing nearly as dark sitting in my backlog of content. The titular "razzle dazzle" and the humor (if I find good moments for it, unfortunately I'm not making as many hilarious mistakes as a player as I did in chapter 1) will return, but for now I feel it would be a disservice to the character of Otto to play the events of his life entirely for laughs and disregard the sick, twisted violence that comes with being in the Satanist society.
Long story short, this chapter is just a phase that will pass. In fact, you've already passed it!
Best Wishes,
Green Rice
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Just caught up! As.. unexpected as the twists and turns into devil worshipping were, we never entirely know what CK2 is gunna throw at us. You certainly committed to the hand as it was dealt. Here's hoping Otto gets his comeuppance.
Otherwise, this has pretty much everything I enjoy in a CK2 AAR. Looking forward to the next update!
Otherwise, this has pretty much everything I enjoy in a CK2 AAR. Looking forward to the next update!
Let the devil's juice flow through you. The dark side beckons.
I'm impressed you didn't shy away from expressing just how vile Otto's Satanism becomes. The lighthearted fun will surely return once Otto, or his Satanism, take a back row.
Loving the Vratislav joke.
I'm impressed you didn't shy away from expressing just how vile Otto's Satanism becomes. The lighthearted fun will surely return once Otto, or his Satanism, take a back row.
Loving the Vratislav joke.
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Chapter 5: Devil's Due
Chapter 5: Devil’s Due
The people of Transjurania are woken by a fanfare on the morning of 18 March 1083: Albrecht von Habsburg, the firstborn son of Duke Otto, is born. His intellect appears to be somewhat lesser than even the average babe, so Otto arranges a betrothal to a Russian genius named Malfrida de Rusa.
That November brings both joy and sorrow to Otto’s Satanic second family. On the fifth they welcome King Vratislav to their ranks, but on the eleventh they say goodbye to Cristina de León. Having been corrupted in both body and soul following Duke Otto’s carnal initiation ritual, she had contracted cancer and lost her battle following one final Friday night bacchanal. She was only 55.
After nearly three years of planning, Otto’s unspeakable plot against his step-brother goes into action on 2 February, 1084. Sviatoslav Romanovich Rurikid dies at the hands of an apparently mentally unstable maid (at least as far as the Hungarian court is aware). Yet not a fortnight later, on the 13th, Mária of Hungary gives birth to a second son, Yemelyan. In unrelated news, some peasants in Basel were found brutally murdered the next morning. The spymaster Theodorich finds his already-lengthy stay in Hungary extended.
Thankfully for those around him, Otto has too preoccupied with other affairs to bother (fully) taking out his frustrations on his court. In addition to his known ongoing research at the observatory, Otto secretly has been participating in regular orgies hosted by fellow Satanists, and the long nights of carnal delight result in a more lean, muscular physique. However, he continues to indulge in strange brews like the one given to him by Ioustinianos, and as a result he starts to act possessed by some mad demon. He becomes increasingly withdrawn and isolated in the observatory, trying to comprehend the strange phenomena he finds in the universe. Finally, not too long before the night of Sviotoslav’s murder, even Otto has to declare himself to be at his wit’s end. Envoys are dispatched to locate anyone in the world who might have any notes of their own on such things. Finally, in July of 1084, one returns from Mesopotamia with a promising message: An Arab scholar named Ibrahim claims to have detailed research on just the sort of subjects Duke Otto has been studying. However, the old man refused to allow the envoy to so much as copy his notes, or to be escorted back to Basel. The envoy swallows as he works up the courage to relay Ibrahim’s demand: “He says you must go to Baghdad to see him yourself, milord.”
To the envoy’s shock (and later relief), rather than fly into a fit of rage, Otto embraces the envoy and whoops with joy. “My good man,” he exclaims, “You shall be duly rewarded for this invaluable service! I will gift you 50 acres of good land and a hefty sum of money so that you may build a new farm and hire your new workers!”
“Thank you, milord,” replies the the envoy. “I will be overjoyed to tell my wife!”
“Well, about that,” Otto adds in a concerned tone, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to tell her yourself. Guards, seize this man!” The castle guards, who had been dismissed from the great hall along with everyone else when the envoy had arrived, re-entered the room and seizing the man’s arms, forced him to his knees.
“I beg you, milord, spare my life! I have done you no harm, borne you no ill will!”
“Fret not, sir, for your life is not in danger. I specifically picked you and the others because you were illiterate and therefore, once your tongue is removed you will be wholly unable to share what you have just told me with anyone else. A much better arrangement for you than had you the ability to write a book about your quest, would you not say? For in that case I would’ve been forced to remove your whole head and not just the tongue.”
The envoy is speechless at this madman’s logic.
“Well, it seems you won’t miss your tongue, since the cat has already taken it,” the duke observes with a sinister chuckle. And with that he leaves to go prepare for his journey, the man’s screams following after him down the corridor.
The journey is long and difficult, but miraculously, Otto arrives in Baghdad in one piece on the twenty-eighth of October. He seeks out Ibrahim at the House of Wisdom, but no one admits to knowing a man fitting the description Otto was given. Seemingly defeated, Otto retires to sup at a local inn, but is approached by a veiled woman in black.
“As-salaamu alaykum, stranger,” the woman greets him. “It is said that you seek the rajul hakim, the wise man Ibrahim Nazari."
“You know the man?” Otto replies. “You seem to be the first in this city to know that name other than myself.”
“You are mistaken, stranger, for very few in Baghdad do not know the name, but fewer than those would dare to admit it. Nazari was once a respected sufi and scholar in the House of Wisdom, but he began pursuing lines of inquiry that frightened even the mystics and those at the House who claimed to be open-minded. Now he is a pariah of the city, continuing his research in the privacy of his own home on the outskirts of the city.”
“Do you know the way, good lady?” Otto asks eagerly. “I will compensate you fairly to escort me hence.”
“I do,” affirms the woman, “but do not hope to be given entry. Nazari does not have much care left for visitors, having been subjected to raids and ridicule in equal measure since his expulsion.”
“I have not come all this way to be turned aside by fear of rejection. Lead the way, madam.”
The walk from the center of such a large city to its edge was a long one, but at last they arrive at a house the woman claims belongs to Ibrahim Nazari. Otto tosses her a gold coin and sends her on her way. His bodyguards knock loudly on the door. It takes many attempts before the man himself answers.
Ibrahim Nazari’s beard is long, gray, unwashed, and unkempt. His robes look about the same. His face is like cracked leather, but his eyes blaze with an amazing vivaciousness for a man so old he could’ve been mistaken for the first foundation stone laid in the city he called home.
“Who are you to disturb an old man at so indecently late an hour?” he barks furiously. “Begone! or I shall hex the whole lot of you!”
“Master Nazari,” Otto says calmly, “I am Otto von Habsburg, Duke of Transjurania. I understand you spoke to a representative of mine, about a year ago. You told him you have research on phenomena from beyond our world. I am here with research of my own.” He motions, and a bodyguard hands Nazari a bound copy of Otto’s notes, translated into Arabic. “I would be most pleased if we could compare our findings as two curious scholars.”
Nazari glances over the notebook. “This appears to be legitimate,” he concedes, “but I must examine the whole of it and verify that it is an authentic journal from start to finish. You would not be the first to scribble some invented research onto the first page of a blank book in order to trick me into revealing my secrets. Return at midday tomorrow.” Without another word or even a pause to let Otto respond, he closes the door.
At noon the following day, Otto returns to Nazari’s home and the old scholar, having apparently spent the entire night reading Otto’s notes, finally invites his guest inside, but only the duke himself. Otto’s guards look wary but their master orders them to remain posted by the door, only to enter if he calls for them by name. Following Nazari inside, Otto carefully weaves through towering piles of papers and books, discarded food left on the floor, and other items Otto decided against deducing the origin of. Nazari stops in front of a curtain hanging over an alcove set into an interior wall of the house.
“You and I are not the first to investigate the things we have observed,” he explains. “Before even I was born, there was another scholar who became the closest thing to an expert as a mere mortal man can become on these matters. They called him Abdul the Mad, and this is the only surviving work that bears his name.” Reaching behind the curtain, Nazari produces a thick tome with a cover that seems blacker than night. A blood-red leather strap seals it shut.
“This is the Necronomicon. Well, a copy of it, at any rate. The original I keep in a secret location known only to me. You have proven yourself a scholar worthy of reading its secrets, but I must warn you: it is said to drive whomever reads it as mad as the author. I got lucky, as you see,” he remarks, picking a loose crumb of a previous meal from his beard and popping it in his mouth. “So, if you truly want to risk it, I’ll be willing to part with it for a modest sum of gold. Just enough to pay for the materials to recopy it."
“Risk it? My dear fellow, they already call me mad! I have nothing to lose and only untold wealths of knowledge to gain from this book! Here, have your money!” he says with a smile, tossing Ibrahim Nazari his entire purse. “For a book this priceless, any amount of gold I spend on it is a bargain!”
The return journey is prolonged by the onset of winter, but Otto finally returns to Habsburg Castle in the summer of 1085. He is not home long before ill news from Poland: Kazimierz of Gostynin, the husband-to-be of Amalie von Habsburg, has died of leprosy on 15 August, just eleven days shy of his eighteenth birthday. The possibly of uniting the Hungarian and Polish thrones under the Habsburg banner is apparently not to be. Amalie, who just two days before Kazimierz’s death had celebrated her own birthday (her twelfth), is devastated, and refuses to have her hand be given to another.
Fate may have taken one opportunity from Otto and Amalie, but in return she spares them some effort on the first of October, when the sickly Yemelyan dies of natural causes. Amalie’s ascension to the throne of Hungary is now all but secured.
Otto decides that with his family’s ambitions for Hungary secured, it is finally time to open up the Necronomicon and unravel its mysteries. What he discovers is beyond his wildest imaginations. Once he might have doubted in the supernatural before, but now, with the understanding granted him by the Necronomicon, he realizes that there must be divine, cosmic forces at work beyond mere mortal comprehension.
“Great Satan!” he shouts into the void, “Forgive me for worshipping you in name only for my own selfish gain! I will be your faithful servant evermore!”
“Excellent,” replies a malevolent and unseen voice.
With the birth of Werner von Habsburg on 18 February 1087, Otto manages to secure a betrothal to Queen Mária’s daughter Feodosia, re-establishing the Hungarian alliance and allowing him to defend his step-mother’s title against the pretender Princess Ilona and her sponsor, Duke Radovan Trprimirovic of Slavonia, who have been at war for six years at this point. With the extra help, Mária secures a white peace with the High Chief of Bolghar, against whom she was pressing Duke Árpád Gyula’s claim, in 1088. Otto attempts to use his dark Satanic power to kill Ilona with smallpox and end her threat to his step-mother’s (and more importantly, half-sister’s) throne permanently, but she miraculously make a full recovery. For his troubles, Otto is rewarded with a lisp, preventing him from correctly pronouncing “smallpox” ever again. However, the Duke of Slavonia’s luck eventually runs out, as he is cowed into admitting defeat in 1090.
Other exciting events occur for the Habsburg family during the war. On 18 April of the same year as the peace with the Bolghars, Etienette von Habsburg is born and betrothed matrilineally to the young King Humphrey de Hauteville of Sicily, thanks to some sweet-talking of Humphrey’s guardian and great-uncle, Duke Roger of Calabria. Ida von Habsburg also returns home after her husband Bretislav is appointed by the Pope to the bishopric of Plasy, annulling their marriage. As it so happens, her now former father-in-law, King Vratislav, is waging the Second War of the Polish Succession.
King Vladislav had died on an infected wound on September 6, 1087, and his son Nikolaus had succeeded him at only a year old. Fearing a Piast restoration, King Vratislav decided to preemptively depose his grandson in favor of his second son, the unlanded (and unmarried) Boleslav. Mass confusion erupts among the common-folk of Poland as in their confusion they believe that they are being attacked by their recently-deceased king, risen from the dead.
Otto is able to invite Boleslav to Basel and introduce him to Ida. Boleslav is so enamored of Ida that he accepts her brother’s condition that any children of the couple bear the surname Habsburg. A Habsburg-ruled Poland is now back on the table.
Thus the House of Habsburg welcomed a new decade, and what an eventful decade it would turn out to be! On 3 May, 1090, with the help of master diplomat Bishop Guilhelm of Aubonne, Otto manages to secure enough support from Counts Burchard of Neuchatel and Rudolf of Bern to pass a new Succession Act, making the Duchy of Transjurania an elected title. He immediately nominates his half-sister, Amalie, and although the vassal counts aren’t inclined to trust the judgement of a possessed and arbitrary lunatic, Amalie’s brilliance and virtuous nature win over their unanimous support.
That same year, Otto comes to the aid of his step-mother Mária in a war against…somebody. The details are unfortunately lost to historians, historians rumored to be from the same family as the oafish and ill-fated advisor to Werner. The war continues into 1091, at which point Duke Pierre of Savoy decides he has had enough of Otto’s endless list of excuses for not fulfilling his father’s promise to return Genfergau. Pierre declare a war to reclaim the province while Otto is away campaigning in Hungary. Unfortunately, Pierre miscalculates the willingness of the Duke of Franche-Comté and the King of Bohemia to come to Otto’s defense. His army is easily repelled and he surrenders without ever fighting Otto or any actual Transjuranians in the field. 1091 is a good year all-around for allies of the Habsburgs, as Boleslav Premyslid wins his bid to become King of Poland on 8 February.
1092 is a quieter year, marked only by the passing of Kaiser Gottfried on 27 September 1092, in battle against Count Ludwig of Schwaben. The new Kaiser, Heinrich V von Nordheim, Duke of Bavaria, unfortunately decides not to renew Otto’s position as chancellor.
The year 1093 is another busy one for Duke Otto and the Habsburgs. He and Gisèle mark the birth of their fifth and final child, a daughter named Elisabeth, on 18 June before Queen Mária calls Otto to her defense for another unremembered war. Upon discovery of this lapse in historiography and the previous one, the Transjuranian Historical Society gets a new head, as do the pikes outside Habsburg Castle. Amalie is also finally married, to the quick-witted rogue Martín Flaínez of the Castilian House of Osorio.
The only fly in the ointment is Otto’s worsening relationship with his ward, Gundo Lotharling, son of the court chaplain of Amalfi. The fourteen-year-old lad is learning perhaps too well from his tutor, and is developing ambitions of his own. “One day,” he vows to Otto, “I will be even greater than you!” Otto dismisses Gundo’s dream out of hand, but this only serves to fan the flames of Gundo’s growing rivalry with him.
To top the year off, Otto recreates his macabre outing with his now-departed Ioustinianos of Amphissa, passing the torch to Isabel d’Urgell, Dowager Queen of Aragon (her husband, King Sancho Jimena, died a duel with the Emir of Zaragoza in 1067). This time, however, Otto goes one step further than he had originally and out of curiosity prepares a meal out his victims. Sadly, if he gained any profound insights from his cannibalism, we’ll never know, as he foolishly also introduced Isabel to the tradition of drinking Ioustinianos’ strange brew after the fact, and afterwards his mind was permanently dulled.
Amalie and Martin have a son, named Simon, on Valentine’s Day 1095, who inherits Amalie’s genius. At his birth he appears quite sickly, but thankfully he will survive. He is betrothed to Jelena Dukljanin, a Serbian babe with a sharp mind.
The following year, King Boleslav and Queen Ida welcome a son of their own. At 24 inches long, "little" Helferich von Habsburg is anything but. Poland now has a Habsburg heir of its own.
The happy news, however, is not enough to stave off Otto’s growing depression. With his mind no longer what it was, Otto has decided to study the art of rulership in more detail to offset his impaired faculties. For the first time, he begins actually listening to supplicants who come to him seeking redress, but he is increasingly frustrated with his own inability to come up with any solutions for them. He questions what joining the cult of Lucifer got him in the end. All the fear and bloodshed he carried out, and what did he gain other than a corrupted mind and body.
“Even my onthe-hanthome fathe ith turned repulthive,” he remarks to his reflection through his lisp, which makes him cry even more. Of all the afflictions to be cursed with! He, Duke Otto von Habthburg of Tranthjurania!
To add insult to injury, Otto realizes that his work to designate Amalie as heir to both Transjurania and Hungary will come to naught if she should inherit Hungary first. His vassal lords would no longer consider her a worthy successor, fearing she would be a Hungarian queen first and a German duchess second. However, should Otto die before Queen Mária, and Amalie begins her life as a ruler in Transjurania, then the titles could be successfully united in the same branch of the family.
On 20 November 1096, after hearing now the now seventeen-year-old Gundo Lotharling make cruel jests at his expense at a feast in the great hall, Otto has a now-rare spark of genius on how to end his suffering and troubles.
“Gundo, I have endured your dithrethpect for far too long!” he bellows. “You and I will settle this animothity between uth tomorrow at dawn! If you are brave enough to inthult me in my own hall, you thould be brave enough to thwing a thword!”
The two foes meet in the courtyard of Habsburg castle as the sun rises. Otto is decked out in his finest ringmail, with the sigil of his house embroidered on a doublet over top. Gundo has only a simple steel helm, a leather jerkin, and a shield bearing the tripartite orange emblem of the Lotharlings as his protection. When marshal Alberic de Comminges signals the duel to begin, it is immediately apparent to all those spectating that Otto, a diplomat and plotter, is out of his element in a one-on-one fight. The younger Gundo effortlessly blocks and sidesteps Otto’s slow and simplistic attacks. It takes him less than a minute to put his liege on his stomach, prostrate on the ground.
Here it comes, Otto says to himself. Release at last. He closes his eyes right before he feels the blow to the back of his neck and he looses all sensation in his body. Well, he thinks, that was less painful than I thought.
“YOU DISGRACEFUL CUR!” comes a voice out of the darkness. What? wonders Otto, opening his eyes.
Wait…how do I still have eyes that can open?
Otto is mortified to see the flagstones of the courtyard in front of his face again. He tries to scramble to his feet, but nothing happens. He feels the ghost of his body, but all true sensation is gone. Someone turns him over onto his back for him.
“Brother!” It is Amalie. A welcome face, if not the most comely. Otto tries to call her name back, but not even his mouth will obey him and only a gargle escapes his lips. Behind her, Otto just barely catches a glimpse of Alberic and his guards apprehending Gundo. Amalie must see where his eyes are focusing, for she gives a puzzled look to him, then a glance over her shoulder, and rises back to her feet to address the marshal.
“Unhand him!” she commands. The men-at-arms pause but do not comply. Amalie stands up proud and straight, with her head high and her voice clear and confident:
“I am my brother’s heir and designated regent. He has been paralyzed and cannot speak, therefore I shall speak with his voice, and you shall answer and obey it! This man, dishonorable as he may be, has committed no crime. He and my brother were engaged in a lawful duel of honor. Had he the spine to kill his opponent outright, you would be outside your jurisdiction to detain him, and he has done less than that. As much as it pains all of us, you will release him, or else your heads will join wherever you intend to place his.” Reluctantly, the guards obey.
“Thank you, milady,” says Gundo, but Amalie turns her back to him.
“Save your thanks, for I do this not for your sake but for the sake of my own soul and theirs. You are still the lowest of creatures. The Devil had more honor when he deceived Eve in the Garden than you have shown here today. You are no longer welcome in my brother’s domain. Leave at once, or this time I will be within my rights to see you hang.” Stricken by her fierceness of will, Gundo gets to his feet and exits the courtyard. He does not even stop to retrieve his personal belongs from his bedchamber.
Thus Amalie von Habsburg begins her rule of Transjurania as her brother’s regent, a welcome change as in his current state, her skills exceed his in all but Diplomacy. Not to mention she’s a lot more level-headed.
In March 1097, Queen Mária of Hungary declares a Holy War to take the Duchy of Oltenia from the Orthodox Pechenegs hordes. Otto, through blinks and moans, gives his approval to Amalie to send his levies to her mother’s defense one final time, in the hopes that Amalie can inherit an even larger realm. Sadly, the Pechenegs prove as tough a foe as ever, and the war will eventually in a stalemate, but not until after Otto’s passing on 7 November. The Duchy of Transjurania officially passes to Amalie. The dark days of Otto ‘the Devil’ are over. The legendary reign of Amalie ‘the Wise’ has only just begun.
Next Time…
The new Duchess Amalie engages in her own, slightly less occult research while elevating the Habsburgs to new heights of influence in the Empire.
The people of Transjurania are woken by a fanfare on the morning of 18 March 1083: Albrecht von Habsburg, the firstborn son of Duke Otto, is born. His intellect appears to be somewhat lesser than even the average babe, so Otto arranges a betrothal to a Russian genius named Malfrida de Rusa.
That November brings both joy and sorrow to Otto’s Satanic second family. On the fifth they welcome King Vratislav to their ranks, but on the eleventh they say goodbye to Cristina de León. Having been corrupted in both body and soul following Duke Otto’s carnal initiation ritual, she had contracted cancer and lost her battle following one final Friday night bacchanal. She was only 55.
After nearly three years of planning, Otto’s unspeakable plot against his step-brother goes into action on 2 February, 1084. Sviatoslav Romanovich Rurikid dies at the hands of an apparently mentally unstable maid (at least as far as the Hungarian court is aware). Yet not a fortnight later, on the 13th, Mária of Hungary gives birth to a second son, Yemelyan. In unrelated news, some peasants in Basel were found brutally murdered the next morning. The spymaster Theodorich finds his already-lengthy stay in Hungary extended.
Thankfully for those around him, Otto has too preoccupied with other affairs to bother (fully) taking out his frustrations on his court. In addition to his known ongoing research at the observatory, Otto secretly has been participating in regular orgies hosted by fellow Satanists, and the long nights of carnal delight result in a more lean, muscular physique. However, he continues to indulge in strange brews like the one given to him by Ioustinianos, and as a result he starts to act possessed by some mad demon. He becomes increasingly withdrawn and isolated in the observatory, trying to comprehend the strange phenomena he finds in the universe. Finally, not too long before the night of Sviotoslav’s murder, even Otto has to declare himself to be at his wit’s end. Envoys are dispatched to locate anyone in the world who might have any notes of their own on such things. Finally, in July of 1084, one returns from Mesopotamia with a promising message: An Arab scholar named Ibrahim claims to have detailed research on just the sort of subjects Duke Otto has been studying. However, the old man refused to allow the envoy to so much as copy his notes, or to be escorted back to Basel. The envoy swallows as he works up the courage to relay Ibrahim’s demand: “He says you must go to Baghdad to see him yourself, milord.”
To the envoy’s shock (and later relief), rather than fly into a fit of rage, Otto embraces the envoy and whoops with joy. “My good man,” he exclaims, “You shall be duly rewarded for this invaluable service! I will gift you 50 acres of good land and a hefty sum of money so that you may build a new farm and hire your new workers!”
“Thank you, milord,” replies the the envoy. “I will be overjoyed to tell my wife!”
“Well, about that,” Otto adds in a concerned tone, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to tell her yourself. Guards, seize this man!” The castle guards, who had been dismissed from the great hall along with everyone else when the envoy had arrived, re-entered the room and seizing the man’s arms, forced him to his knees.
“I beg you, milord, spare my life! I have done you no harm, borne you no ill will!”
“Fret not, sir, for your life is not in danger. I specifically picked you and the others because you were illiterate and therefore, once your tongue is removed you will be wholly unable to share what you have just told me with anyone else. A much better arrangement for you than had you the ability to write a book about your quest, would you not say? For in that case I would’ve been forced to remove your whole head and not just the tongue.”
The envoy is speechless at this madman’s logic.
“Well, it seems you won’t miss your tongue, since the cat has already taken it,” the duke observes with a sinister chuckle. And with that he leaves to go prepare for his journey, the man’s screams following after him down the corridor.
The journey is long and difficult, but miraculously, Otto arrives in Baghdad in one piece on the twenty-eighth of October. He seeks out Ibrahim at the House of Wisdom, but no one admits to knowing a man fitting the description Otto was given. Seemingly defeated, Otto retires to sup at a local inn, but is approached by a veiled woman in black.
“As-salaamu alaykum, stranger,” the woman greets him. “It is said that you seek the rajul hakim, the wise man Ibrahim Nazari."
“You know the man?” Otto replies. “You seem to be the first in this city to know that name other than myself.”
“You are mistaken, stranger, for very few in Baghdad do not know the name, but fewer than those would dare to admit it. Nazari was once a respected sufi and scholar in the House of Wisdom, but he began pursuing lines of inquiry that frightened even the mystics and those at the House who claimed to be open-minded. Now he is a pariah of the city, continuing his research in the privacy of his own home on the outskirts of the city.”
“Do you know the way, good lady?” Otto asks eagerly. “I will compensate you fairly to escort me hence.”
“I do,” affirms the woman, “but do not hope to be given entry. Nazari does not have much care left for visitors, having been subjected to raids and ridicule in equal measure since his expulsion.”
“I have not come all this way to be turned aside by fear of rejection. Lead the way, madam.”
The walk from the center of such a large city to its edge was a long one, but at last they arrive at a house the woman claims belongs to Ibrahim Nazari. Otto tosses her a gold coin and sends her on her way. His bodyguards knock loudly on the door. It takes many attempts before the man himself answers.
Ibrahim Nazari’s beard is long, gray, unwashed, and unkempt. His robes look about the same. His face is like cracked leather, but his eyes blaze with an amazing vivaciousness for a man so old he could’ve been mistaken for the first foundation stone laid in the city he called home.
“Who are you to disturb an old man at so indecently late an hour?” he barks furiously. “Begone! or I shall hex the whole lot of you!”
“Master Nazari,” Otto says calmly, “I am Otto von Habsburg, Duke of Transjurania. I understand you spoke to a representative of mine, about a year ago. You told him you have research on phenomena from beyond our world. I am here with research of my own.” He motions, and a bodyguard hands Nazari a bound copy of Otto’s notes, translated into Arabic. “I would be most pleased if we could compare our findings as two curious scholars.”
Nazari glances over the notebook. “This appears to be legitimate,” he concedes, “but I must examine the whole of it and verify that it is an authentic journal from start to finish. You would not be the first to scribble some invented research onto the first page of a blank book in order to trick me into revealing my secrets. Return at midday tomorrow.” Without another word or even a pause to let Otto respond, he closes the door.
At noon the following day, Otto returns to Nazari’s home and the old scholar, having apparently spent the entire night reading Otto’s notes, finally invites his guest inside, but only the duke himself. Otto’s guards look wary but their master orders them to remain posted by the door, only to enter if he calls for them by name. Following Nazari inside, Otto carefully weaves through towering piles of papers and books, discarded food left on the floor, and other items Otto decided against deducing the origin of. Nazari stops in front of a curtain hanging over an alcove set into an interior wall of the house.
“You and I are not the first to investigate the things we have observed,” he explains. “Before even I was born, there was another scholar who became the closest thing to an expert as a mere mortal man can become on these matters. They called him Abdul the Mad, and this is the only surviving work that bears his name.” Reaching behind the curtain, Nazari produces a thick tome with a cover that seems blacker than night. A blood-red leather strap seals it shut.
“This is the Necronomicon. Well, a copy of it, at any rate. The original I keep in a secret location known only to me. You have proven yourself a scholar worthy of reading its secrets, but I must warn you: it is said to drive whomever reads it as mad as the author. I got lucky, as you see,” he remarks, picking a loose crumb of a previous meal from his beard and popping it in his mouth. “So, if you truly want to risk it, I’ll be willing to part with it for a modest sum of gold. Just enough to pay for the materials to recopy it."
“Risk it? My dear fellow, they already call me mad! I have nothing to lose and only untold wealths of knowledge to gain from this book! Here, have your money!” he says with a smile, tossing Ibrahim Nazari his entire purse. “For a book this priceless, any amount of gold I spend on it is a bargain!”
The return journey is prolonged by the onset of winter, but Otto finally returns to Habsburg Castle in the summer of 1085. He is not home long before ill news from Poland: Kazimierz of Gostynin, the husband-to-be of Amalie von Habsburg, has died of leprosy on 15 August, just eleven days shy of his eighteenth birthday. The possibly of uniting the Hungarian and Polish thrones under the Habsburg banner is apparently not to be. Amalie, who just two days before Kazimierz’s death had celebrated her own birthday (her twelfth), is devastated, and refuses to have her hand be given to another.
Fate may have taken one opportunity from Otto and Amalie, but in return she spares them some effort on the first of October, when the sickly Yemelyan dies of natural causes. Amalie’s ascension to the throne of Hungary is now all but secured.
Otto decides that with his family’s ambitions for Hungary secured, it is finally time to open up the Necronomicon and unravel its mysteries. What he discovers is beyond his wildest imaginations. Once he might have doubted in the supernatural before, but now, with the understanding granted him by the Necronomicon, he realizes that there must be divine, cosmic forces at work beyond mere mortal comprehension.
“Great Satan!” he shouts into the void, “Forgive me for worshipping you in name only for my own selfish gain! I will be your faithful servant evermore!”
“Excellent,” replies a malevolent and unseen voice.
With the birth of Werner von Habsburg on 18 February 1087, Otto manages to secure a betrothal to Queen Mária’s daughter Feodosia, re-establishing the Hungarian alliance and allowing him to defend his step-mother’s title against the pretender Princess Ilona and her sponsor, Duke Radovan Trprimirovic of Slavonia, who have been at war for six years at this point. With the extra help, Mária secures a white peace with the High Chief of Bolghar, against whom she was pressing Duke Árpád Gyula’s claim, in 1088. Otto attempts to use his dark Satanic power to kill Ilona with smallpox and end her threat to his step-mother’s (and more importantly, half-sister’s) throne permanently, but she miraculously make a full recovery. For his troubles, Otto is rewarded with a lisp, preventing him from correctly pronouncing “smallpox” ever again. However, the Duke of Slavonia’s luck eventually runs out, as he is cowed into admitting defeat in 1090.
Other exciting events occur for the Habsburg family during the war. On 18 April of the same year as the peace with the Bolghars, Etienette von Habsburg is born and betrothed matrilineally to the young King Humphrey de Hauteville of Sicily, thanks to some sweet-talking of Humphrey’s guardian and great-uncle, Duke Roger of Calabria. Ida von Habsburg also returns home after her husband Bretislav is appointed by the Pope to the bishopric of Plasy, annulling their marriage. As it so happens, her now former father-in-law, King Vratislav, is waging the Second War of the Polish Succession.
King Vladislav had died on an infected wound on September 6, 1087, and his son Nikolaus had succeeded him at only a year old. Fearing a Piast restoration, King Vratislav decided to preemptively depose his grandson in favor of his second son, the unlanded (and unmarried) Boleslav. Mass confusion erupts among the common-folk of Poland as in their confusion they believe that they are being attacked by their recently-deceased king, risen from the dead.
Otto is able to invite Boleslav to Basel and introduce him to Ida. Boleslav is so enamored of Ida that he accepts her brother’s condition that any children of the couple bear the surname Habsburg. A Habsburg-ruled Poland is now back on the table.
Thus the House of Habsburg welcomed a new decade, and what an eventful decade it would turn out to be! On 3 May, 1090, with the help of master diplomat Bishop Guilhelm of Aubonne, Otto manages to secure enough support from Counts Burchard of Neuchatel and Rudolf of Bern to pass a new Succession Act, making the Duchy of Transjurania an elected title. He immediately nominates his half-sister, Amalie, and although the vassal counts aren’t inclined to trust the judgement of a possessed and arbitrary lunatic, Amalie’s brilliance and virtuous nature win over their unanimous support.
That same year, Otto comes to the aid of his step-mother Mária in a war against…somebody. The details are unfortunately lost to historians, historians rumored to be from the same family as the oafish and ill-fated advisor to Werner. The war continues into 1091, at which point Duke Pierre of Savoy decides he has had enough of Otto’s endless list of excuses for not fulfilling his father’s promise to return Genfergau. Pierre declare a war to reclaim the province while Otto is away campaigning in Hungary. Unfortunately, Pierre miscalculates the willingness of the Duke of Franche-Comté and the King of Bohemia to come to Otto’s defense. His army is easily repelled and he surrenders without ever fighting Otto or any actual Transjuranians in the field. 1091 is a good year all-around for allies of the Habsburgs, as Boleslav Premyslid wins his bid to become King of Poland on 8 February.
1092 is a quieter year, marked only by the passing of Kaiser Gottfried on 27 September 1092, in battle against Count Ludwig of Schwaben. The new Kaiser, Heinrich V von Nordheim, Duke of Bavaria, unfortunately decides not to renew Otto’s position as chancellor.
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The year 1093 is another busy one for Duke Otto and the Habsburgs. He and Gisèle mark the birth of their fifth and final child, a daughter named Elisabeth, on 18 June before Queen Mária calls Otto to her defense for another unremembered war. Upon discovery of this lapse in historiography and the previous one, the Transjuranian Historical Society gets a new head, as do the pikes outside Habsburg Castle. Amalie is also finally married, to the quick-witted rogue Martín Flaínez of the Castilian House of Osorio.
The only fly in the ointment is Otto’s worsening relationship with his ward, Gundo Lotharling, son of the court chaplain of Amalfi. The fourteen-year-old lad is learning perhaps too well from his tutor, and is developing ambitions of his own. “One day,” he vows to Otto, “I will be even greater than you!” Otto dismisses Gundo’s dream out of hand, but this only serves to fan the flames of Gundo’s growing rivalry with him.
To top the year off, Otto recreates his macabre outing with his now-departed Ioustinianos of Amphissa, passing the torch to Isabel d’Urgell, Dowager Queen of Aragon (her husband, King Sancho Jimena, died a duel with the Emir of Zaragoza in 1067). This time, however, Otto goes one step further than he had originally and out of curiosity prepares a meal out his victims. Sadly, if he gained any profound insights from his cannibalism, we’ll never know, as he foolishly also introduced Isabel to the tradition of drinking Ioustinianos’ strange brew after the fact, and afterwards his mind was permanently dulled.
Amalie and Martin have a son, named Simon, on Valentine’s Day 1095, who inherits Amalie’s genius. At his birth he appears quite sickly, but thankfully he will survive. He is betrothed to Jelena Dukljanin, a Serbian babe with a sharp mind.
The following year, King Boleslav and Queen Ida welcome a son of their own. At 24 inches long, "little" Helferich von Habsburg is anything but. Poland now has a Habsburg heir of its own.
The happy news, however, is not enough to stave off Otto’s growing depression. With his mind no longer what it was, Otto has decided to study the art of rulership in more detail to offset his impaired faculties. For the first time, he begins actually listening to supplicants who come to him seeking redress, but he is increasingly frustrated with his own inability to come up with any solutions for them. He questions what joining the cult of Lucifer got him in the end. All the fear and bloodshed he carried out, and what did he gain other than a corrupted mind and body.
“Even my onthe-hanthome fathe ith turned repulthive,” he remarks to his reflection through his lisp, which makes him cry even more. Of all the afflictions to be cursed with! He, Duke Otto von Habthburg of Tranthjurania!
To add insult to injury, Otto realizes that his work to designate Amalie as heir to both Transjurania and Hungary will come to naught if she should inherit Hungary first. His vassal lords would no longer consider her a worthy successor, fearing she would be a Hungarian queen first and a German duchess second. However, should Otto die before Queen Mária, and Amalie begins her life as a ruler in Transjurania, then the titles could be successfully united in the same branch of the family.
On 20 November 1096, after hearing now the now seventeen-year-old Gundo Lotharling make cruel jests at his expense at a feast in the great hall, Otto has a now-rare spark of genius on how to end his suffering and troubles.
“Gundo, I have endured your dithrethpect for far too long!” he bellows. “You and I will settle this animothity between uth tomorrow at dawn! If you are brave enough to inthult me in my own hall, you thould be brave enough to thwing a thword!”
The two foes meet in the courtyard of Habsburg castle as the sun rises. Otto is decked out in his finest ringmail, with the sigil of his house embroidered on a doublet over top. Gundo has only a simple steel helm, a leather jerkin, and a shield bearing the tripartite orange emblem of the Lotharlings as his protection. When marshal Alberic de Comminges signals the duel to begin, it is immediately apparent to all those spectating that Otto, a diplomat and plotter, is out of his element in a one-on-one fight. The younger Gundo effortlessly blocks and sidesteps Otto’s slow and simplistic attacks. It takes him less than a minute to put his liege on his stomach, prostrate on the ground.
Here it comes, Otto says to himself. Release at last. He closes his eyes right before he feels the blow to the back of his neck and he looses all sensation in his body. Well, he thinks, that was less painful than I thought.
“YOU DISGRACEFUL CUR!” comes a voice out of the darkness. What? wonders Otto, opening his eyes.
Wait…how do I still have eyes that can open?
Otto is mortified to see the flagstones of the courtyard in front of his face again. He tries to scramble to his feet, but nothing happens. He feels the ghost of his body, but all true sensation is gone. Someone turns him over onto his back for him.
“Brother!” It is Amalie. A welcome face, if not the most comely. Otto tries to call her name back, but not even his mouth will obey him and only a gargle escapes his lips. Behind her, Otto just barely catches a glimpse of Alberic and his guards apprehending Gundo. Amalie must see where his eyes are focusing, for she gives a puzzled look to him, then a glance over her shoulder, and rises back to her feet to address the marshal.
“Unhand him!” she commands. The men-at-arms pause but do not comply. Amalie stands up proud and straight, with her head high and her voice clear and confident:
“I am my brother’s heir and designated regent. He has been paralyzed and cannot speak, therefore I shall speak with his voice, and you shall answer and obey it! This man, dishonorable as he may be, has committed no crime. He and my brother were engaged in a lawful duel of honor. Had he the spine to kill his opponent outright, you would be outside your jurisdiction to detain him, and he has done less than that. As much as it pains all of us, you will release him, or else your heads will join wherever you intend to place his.” Reluctantly, the guards obey.
“Thank you, milady,” says Gundo, but Amalie turns her back to him.
“Save your thanks, for I do this not for your sake but for the sake of my own soul and theirs. You are still the lowest of creatures. The Devil had more honor when he deceived Eve in the Garden than you have shown here today. You are no longer welcome in my brother’s domain. Leave at once, or this time I will be within my rights to see you hang.” Stricken by her fierceness of will, Gundo gets to his feet and exits the courtyard. He does not even stop to retrieve his personal belongs from his bedchamber.
Thus Amalie von Habsburg begins her rule of Transjurania as her brother’s regent, a welcome change as in his current state, her skills exceed his in all but Diplomacy. Not to mention she’s a lot more level-headed.
In March 1097, Queen Mária of Hungary declares a Holy War to take the Duchy of Oltenia from the Orthodox Pechenegs hordes. Otto, through blinks and moans, gives his approval to Amalie to send his levies to her mother’s defense one final time, in the hopes that Amalie can inherit an even larger realm. Sadly, the Pechenegs prove as tough a foe as ever, and the war will eventually in a stalemate, but not until after Otto’s passing on 7 November. The Duchy of Transjurania officially passes to Amalie. The dark days of Otto ‘the Devil’ are over. The legendary reign of Amalie ‘the Wise’ has only just begun.
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Next Time…
The new Duchess Amalie engages in her own, slightly less occult research while elevating the Habsburgs to new heights of influence in the Empire.
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Otto's end wasn't very fitting, but whatever.
Austria-Hungary will rise!
Also, the Necronomicon has shown Otto great and horrible truths... so why is he still a Satanist? Why isn't a Cthulhu-ist?
Otto with his dark magic that he uses politically... lol.
Austria-Hungary will rise!
Also, the Necronomicon has shown Otto great and horrible truths... so why is he still a Satanist? Why isn't a Cthulhu-ist?
Otto with his dark magic that he uses politically... lol.
Those inheritances can be a tricky business, but it looks like Otto pulled it off, albeit in the most undignified manner possible. And that Amalie is definitely not one to be messed with, being a genius she-hulk and all
Good riddance to a wretched man, and here's to the new duchess's reign. That said, Otto's management of the succession was.. I don't want to say diabolical, but it was really quite something to behold.
Yeah, definitely one of those moments where I did the "power gamer" thing instead of the role-play thing. Side effect of this being a Backlog Chapter(TM) from before I gave serious consideration to doing this AAR. If Amalie could've inherited both Transjurania and Hungary in any order, I would've been more inclined to let Otto's story play out, but the stupid -500 or something modifier for a candidate from outside the realm was going to cause an issue. I hope there's an exception to that in CK3, because Amalie was both of the same dynasty and same culture as Otto, so in context that modifier makes about zero sense.
Well, we've got the back half of that equation in the bag, you'll have to stay tuned to see how I tackle Austria!
Because there's no Cthulhu society in Monks and Mystics, and also I don't know all the details about Lovecraft (*instinctively hides under desk*), so you'd be asking me to go into unfamiliar territory there. Not to imply that Satanism, by contrast, is familiar for me...