Hohenzollern's Promised Land

[micro1789]

Hohenzollern's Promised Land
A story of the Hohenzollern finding their promised land​

Table of Contents​

Intro: The Before Age (~ 1010 to 1064)

Chapter 1: Raid on Flanders City (March 7th 1064)​

Chapter 2: Settling the Promised Land (June 1066/February 1067)

Chapter 3: An Earl's plotting (March 1067)

Chapter 4: Tribes and Empires (March 1067)​

Chapter 5: Wars of Prussia (1067 - 1077)​

Chapter 6: The Duke of Prussia and the King of France​

Chapter 7: A New Era

Chapter 8: Prussian Dominance

Chapter 9: Heretics, Heretics everywhere!
​

Bonus

1. Map of France in 1080, following the French Civil War​

History of the Before Age​

The Before Age is, to the modern Prussians, a Dark Age, an age that they regard as futile and uninteresting. At school, it is mentioned briefly at the start of 2nd year (Franco-Prussian equivalent of American 10th grade) and only if you take Histoire de la Monarchie, niveau 2, will you ever see it again in your studies. That is why I, Imperial Scribe to his Imperial Highness the Emperor of Poland-Prussia and of the East and West Roman Empire, make it my duty to write the most complete history of the Before Age and of the Late Middle ages, in order to enlighten the ignorant masses and fulfill my role as Scribe of his Majesty.
- Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty

The Before Age (~ 1010 to 1064)
The beginning of the Before Age is, like the Before Age itself, is contested by the majority of the historians in modern Prussia-Poland. However, most agree that the Before Age begins by the rebellion of the Hohenzollern family against the newly elected Imperial monarch. They claimed that he had threatened the assembly of electors in order to get himself elected to the Imperial office, and that it was their duty to assume leadership of the Holy Roman Empire. Conrad III, who was unwilling to abandon the prestigious Imperial office, declared the Hohenzollern family to be traitors to the Empire and proceeded to occupy their land and imprison the people. The Hohenzollern had no choice but to flee Germany and take refuge elsewhere in Europe.

Heinrich von Hohenzollern arrived in the Duchy of Flanders in early 1025, and soon made himself known as a superior general and great administrator. After saving the Duke in a hunt in 1027, he secured his position at court as personal advisor to the Duke, which was a great benefit to the Duke, for Heinrich was very popular among the populace.

However, disaster struck. Baldwin I died due to unknown causes in March 1030, just five years after Heinrich arrived. Heinrich suspected Baldwin son, Baldwin II, to have come up with the plan to kill his father, but he had no proof. Even without proof, Heinrich decided to act quickly and pronounced the new Duke to be a traitor and unfit to rule the Duchy of Flanders, and rallied his supporters in what would become a long and grueling civil war.

Baldwin saw this new threat as nothing more than a small revolt that would be easily repressed. This revolt, however, was anything but small, as Heinrich had gotten considerable support from the population of Western and Northern Flanders, and amongst the Flemish nobles.

Baldwin swiftly organized his army, and, in September 1031, he marched northward, aiming to seize the center of resistance of the Rebels and end the rebellion. Baldwin’s army defeated the rebels’ forces twice and arrived at the gates of Flanders City, the capitol of the Rebellion. Heinrich kept a cold head and ordered the soldiers to sally out and meet the attackers in a field battle. The bloody battle cost 12000 lives in all, and destroyed the Duke’s army. The Rebellion had won its first battle, and that would not be its last.

Advantage in the war ebbed and flowed from 1031 to 1046, when Baldwin was forced to wage war upon the Northern frontier, beyond the Rhine. This would be his gravest mistake, and six years later, in 1052, Heinrich’s son was recognized as co-ruler of Flanders with Baldwin. A year later, Heinrich fell to Death’s claws and departed from the mortal world, leaving a 7 year old as co-ruler of the Duchy of Flanders.

Not much is known of the Hohenzollern between 1053 and 1064. It is generally believed that Baldwin held absolute control over the Duchy until 1060, when he left Flanders to become co-regent of the King. After that, Willem probably took command of the state until 1064, when Baldwin the Regent ordered the raid on Flanders City and proclaimed himself as sole ruler of the Duchy of Flanders.
- Exert from “History of the Hohenzollern, Volume I”

From this point on, the history of the Dukes of Flanders and the Hohenzollern
become separate, and from this point onwards, the Before Age is over. Some historians may argue otherwise, but after this point, the Hohenzollern become a distinct family, apart from the “of Flanders”, and destined to do great things.
- Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty

 

[Morrell8]

Hapsburgs and Hohenzollerns. I'm intrigued.

 

[micro1789]

Pictures!

Chapter 1: Raid on Flanders City​

In 1064, politics in the Duchy of Flanders were chaotic to say the least. Baldwin the Regent, co-ruler of the Duchy, extended his power throughout France by a combination of bribes, threats, and laws. Supported by Anne of Kiev, co-regent of Philip, he also reaffirmed his grip on the Duchy of Flanders. After the speech of Willem von Hohenzollern, he prepared a raid on Flanders City in January 1064, which failed terribly and rallied supporters to Willem crown. In March 1064, he attacked Flanders City with the totality of the King’s forces, forcing Willem to sally out to meet the Royal forces. On March 7th 1064, Royal forces commanded by Baldwin himself faced Flemish forces under the command of Willem near Flanders City. The battle ended at nightfall by the defeat of Willem’s forces, which retreated into Flanders City. The Royal troops pursued them into the city, and another violent battle began at night, inside the city and the castle itself. After the battle, Willem and his loyalist soldiers fled Flanders City, forever.

-Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty

#######################
​

“How long do you think we can hold them back?” Willem said, turning around to face his marshal.

“I don’t know, my lord. No more than 10 minutes” The marshal answered, trying to stem the flow of blood coming down from his left arm.

Willem stood, pensive at the words of his marshal. Alongside him were three others: his marshal, who was a grim faced man with an admirable tactical mind; his spymaster, whose face was shrouded in mystery and who preferred to fight with a dagger rather than a sword; his steward, an able administrator and merchant but a not so good fighter. Why Willem took him along to slow down the flow of enemy soldiers, none but he knew.

As all four of them stood, tense and pensive, an arrow whizzed by the Duke’s head, forcing him to duck behind a loose barrel of wine. At once, half a dozen men sprang into the tight passage, and were challenged by the Duke and his advisors. The Duke, with his superior swordsman skills, challenged three men by himself, while his advisors each took one man.

Willem drew out his sword and slashed at the nearest soldier, who parried the blow. At once, another soldier lunged forward; Willem avoided him and kicked the nearest man, who held his sword high in the air. The man lost his grip on it and it fell back on him with a “swish” sound, similar to ripping fabric. Willem turned his attention to the last soldier, who had a mask on. Willem first lunged at his stomach, which was immediately countered. The masked man punched him strait in the jaw, causing Willem to fall backwards and hit his marshal. Momentarily disoriented, his marshal failed to avoid the sword which was aimed at his chest.

Willem stood up and looked at his friend’s dead body. Rage bubbled in him, so much that he turned on the man who was responsible for it. The soldier looked alarmed at the change of direction of the Duke, and he attempted to flee. Unfortunately, his escape was blocked by the dueling spymaster and his other escape was blocked by the Duke himself.

The Duke unleashed a cry which frightened the living soul out of the man-who-assassinated-the-marshal. Then, Willem made great sweeps with his sword, which caught the man at his neck. The soldier fell on his face and breathed its last. Willem, now aware that more men had poured in the tunnel, ordered the retreat. The battle had been lost, and Flanders City was at the hands of Baldwin the Regent.

Map of Flanders City


#######################
​

Willem forced himself not to be sad about the death of his marshal. Over the years, his marshal had become a close friend of his, as all the Hapsburg brothers. His death was tragic for him, and for his realm, since he was a gifted marshal, capable of turning the worst of odds in his favor. Willem would never forget he was the one who distracted him, which brought his death.

“My lord, are you feeling all right?” said his steward, Michael von Hapsburg.

“Quite all right, yes. You were saying?”

“So, I think it would be a wise idea to not dock in Holland. Baldwin would stop at nothing to kill you, so he probably sent agents all over France and the surrounding areas to catch you. It would be too unsafe to dock anywhere near France.”

“So, do you have any other idea where to go?” Willem said, staring hard at his steward

“Well, we could settle somewhere where no one will come and protest, a place which we could take for ourselves to raise our family, a place of peace. Our promised land.”

Willem stared at his steward. The Hohenzollern did not have a place to call home for nearly a decade. Could this land he was talking about be their promised land?

“Where is this land you talk about, my steward?”

His steward smiled “A land where no one will care what we do. I name it Prussia, in the Baltic region.”

At Willem’s blank expression, his steward took a map out of a nearby drawer and laid it on the table.

​

Red ​

– Prussian Tribes
Black – Planned area of settling​

“I see” Willem said, now ecstatic at the fact that he could have a place to call home “We set sail at once!”

Willem and the refugees of Flanders City set off for Prussia, a land occupied by a loose organization of tribes ruled by the Chief of Prussian. Willem decision to settle in these lands would have a profound impact on future and propelled the Baltic Region to be the leading force, militarily, politically, and economically, in the world for centuries to come.

-Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty​

 

[unmerged(104889)]

Interesting. I'll follow.

 

[Morrell8]

I bet that masked man will show up somewhere again in this AAR.

 

[micro1789]

Another great day to write an AAR
Replies:
@Auray: Welcome aboard, my friend
@Morrel8: Indeed, actually he's in this update

---

Chapter 2: Settling the Promised Land (June 1064 to February 1067​

Willem and the Flemish refugees sailed eastwards, towards the land named Prussia. The journey in itself was very uneventful, but it allowed Willem and his Steward to plan out the new Franco-Flemish settlement. The ex-Duke and his advisor called it Macrienbourg, which roughly means “Land of the Chosen” in modern English. Over the years, the city’s name changed and it is now called Marienburg, and I will call it as such. In the first light of the day on the 5th of June in the year of our lord 1064, Willem and his people landed on the coast of Marienburg. In 3 years, they would build a city that would rival Flanders City, and they united the disperse towns of Marienburg into one realm, the county of Marienburg.

-Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty​

June 1066, in Marienburg Castle

“…and by the powers entrusted to me as bishop of Marienburg by the Pope and God I proclaim you count of Marienburg and the area neighboring it. Rise, my count, and liberate these lands from the Heathen Pagans.”

Willem stood up and looked at the crowd gathered in his hall. Over the past 2 years, he had subjugated all who resisted his rule around Marienburg, defeating a coalition made against him by the surrounding tribes. Now, the people looking at him were French, Flemish, but also German, Swedish, and of course Prussian. He was the ruler of all these people in the name of God and Christianity, in order to build a land where all citizens would live peacefully. He began to speak.

“My dear people,” he began, “what a glorious day this is. Two years ago, a small fraction of you arrived with me in this barren land, harboring dreams and promises. Now, these dreams about a land of Peace have been completed. Never again shall unlawful aggressors steal our land; never again shall oppressors rule this land with tyranny. My people, I promise you a glorious future, a future where people will be at peace, and where trade will flourish. My people, this is the beginning of a great era, the era of Hohenzollern!”

At once, the room erupted with applause and praise from everyone. People started chanting “for our Count!”, “for Marienburg!”, and most strangely “for Prussia!”

Only one man looked oblivious to the general rejoicing. A man in black, wearing a cape and most strangely a mask, stood near the door. He whispered softly:

“Rejoice while you can, Hohenzollern, for soon my plan will be complete”

With this the man slipped outside the castle, followed by the crowd of people.

##############​

February 1067, on the North Sea

The Earl's ship​

The Earl looked out at the sea. Somewhere beyond it was Marienburg, what the Flemish (and some Saxons) called The Promised Land. There, he would seek exile with his family, and his warrior’s family, and they would plot William’s fall.

The Earl looked around him. Everyone was busy keeping the boat running, from cooking the food to checking the sails. No one was idle, as the Earl personally assigned the jobs on board for maximum efficiency.

The Earl walked to his cabin and entered it. Once in it, he spotted his wife on her bed, reading the Bible. She was young, just 22, but greatly religious, something that bothered the Earl a bit. The Earl himself had converted to Catholicism only recently because of his wife’s pressure, and he regretted it. Admittedly, this stabilized the Earldom by negating clergy opposition, but he could never get the hang of praying daily for forgiveness, or going to church service every Sunday. It just felt too much.

The Earl swooped down and kissed his wife on the lips. She was amiably surprised by this, and the kiss lingered for a while. They finally broke away, and his wife said.

“That was a pleasant surprise. Can I inquire about why you did this?”

“I felt lonely.” he answered simply

“Could it be about this?” she asked, holding up a letter under the Earl’s nose.

The Earl first looked puzzled, and then his faced drained of all colors.

“Where did you get this?” he said in a low, urgent whisper.

“I found it, and it helped me enlighten some points. Like what you did for hours at a time locked in your room.”

“I…But I…” the Earl stammered.

“Now I also know why you wished to go to Marienburg. Your plan is cunning and devious, and I don’t doubt it will work. However, I wish to get some share of the spoils. Let’s say, 65 percent?” his wife said.

“Melinda, I cannot…”

“Quiet!” she snapped, “I will make sure that everyone knows of your devilry if I don’t get my part. You have been warned.”

Without further words she departed the room, leaving the Earl wondering in how much trouble he had stepped in.

 

[Morrell8]

Earl? Recently converted to Catholicism? Hmm. Where could this man be from? Exiles mean trouble for the count and the county.

 

[micro1789]

New Update

@Morrell8: Indeed it does, you will see how much
---

Chapter 3: An Earl's plotting (March 1067)​

In late February 1067, Morcar, the Earl of Northumbriaa, arrived at Marienburg harbor to seek refuge from William the Conqueror's armies. The count, with a generous mind, allowed him to stay in Marienburg for the time being. Unknown to Willem, the Earl had plans in mind that would make him a richer and more powerful man the ever before.

- Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty​

Early March 1067, Marienburg Castle, Prussia

Willem looked around the room. It was a spacious room, decorated lavishly with many tapestry from Rome, Greece, Constantinople, Baghdad, and the likes. Many people mingled around the room. They were throwing a great party for the arrival of the Earl and the beginning of what looked like a long friendship between the count and the Earl.

“I am impressed by the many tapestries you have, my dear Willem. Where did you get them?”

Willem turned to look at the Earl. His face wore his usual friendly expression, but his eyes were different. They betrayed fear, nervousness; he kept throwing furtive glances around the room, especially at the tapestry near the far end of the room.

“Is there something wrong?” Willem asked, intrigued by the Earl's altitude.

“What, me? Nothing, nothing at all; I just get slightly nervous when surrounded by people. I have a phobia of people, you see. I get nervous around crowds mostly. It all started when I was a baby, you see, and I...”

Willem shut his eyes. He was going to rant about his childhood again! Was there no way to shut him up for once?

“...I avoided people because I was the child of an Earl, and you know that, as a Noble, none expect me to go and befriend every other child in the county, and I...”

“STOP! I mean, why don't I show you the magnificent paintings I have in the throne room. I should be able to call for a meeting of the court to discuss our future collaborations.” Willem said.

Morcar nodded, and they set off the throne room. As he opened the door, he noticed something odd in the way one of the tapestries was arranged. It overlapped two others, and he never remembered putting anything of the sort on his walls. Before he could get a good glimpse at it, though, his friend gave a little cough, and Willem reluctantly stepped through the door.

##############​

2 hours later, Marienburg palace, the Throne Room

The throne room resembled to the dining room, except that it was smaller, and the walls were full of paintings and not tapestry. A dozen people wandered about, talking and enjoying the drinks offered by the Count. Amongst those people was the new marshal, Alexander von Hapsburg, and his brothers, the steward August and the chancellor Adolphus. Near the throne, there was the count, the Earl and his wife.

Reconstruction of the throne room​

“So the Saxon can count on your assistance in our reconquest of the English throne?”

“Yes, of course. I will send you as much help as I can, but I have to warn you that it isn't much.” Willem replied, looking at Willem strait in his eyes.

The Earl nodded, but said nothing more. Willem noticed his eyes were darting around the room again, as if he was expecting something to happen. Willem dismissed this thought out of his head when he saw that his throne had been cleaned, presumably by his servants. He laid his sword next to the throne and proceeded to sit in it, when he saw a little piece of paper, presumably from a letter. It said:

“...we just need to conceal the entrance somehow, but it won't be hard with so many pictures on the walls. Then, it's bye bye count.

Good luck,
M.M”

An assassin's plot! What could it mean, Willem thought. Then, he understood. The tapestry. They were coming from the tapestry.

Willem started to move forward when he was stopped by the Morcar, who positioned himself in front of him.

“Anything wrong, my count?” he said, looking more nervous than he had ever looked.

Then, the count understood again. The Earl was behind the plot, the Earl had planned it all.

Willem punched the Earl in the nose, making him fall backwards.

“Bastard,” he said as the Earl scrambled on his feet “You tried to kill me!” He roared as he approached the retreating Earl.

“I don’t…I didn’t…” The Earl stammered, too scared to defend himself.

“YOU FILTHY COWARD! HOW DARE YOU TRY TO KILL ME!” The count was furious. He grabbed the Earl by the collar, lifted him off the ground, and propelled him against the wall.

“Tell me why you tried to do it.” Willem said, as he pinned the Earl against the wall.

The Earl whimpered, and then drew out a dagger from his breast pocket. Willem immediately backed up; his face was mutated by fury, and he longed to attack the Earl, but could not.

The Earl walked over to the throne, holding up his dagger menacingly, and seized the count’s sword. Then, he grabbed his wife with one arm and held up his dagger to her throat with the other.

“If any of you move, her throat will be cut.” He warned, attempting and failing to hide the panic in his voice.

“You are a base coward, hiding behind plots and menacing innocent woman. Face me like a man if you wish to kill me!” Willem said, still bubbling with suppressed rage.

“I do not think so. You see, I made this all up so as to not risk my life fighting you. The whole masquerade would be useless if I risked my neck. No, I think I will kill you here, without danger of retaliation.”

Then, to everyone’s horror, Morcar pushed his wife aside and leaped in the air, his sword held high as he said.

“You will face justice, Willem von Hohenzollern!”

################​

Fifteen minutes earlier, outside of the castle

A masked personage was waiting outside a tunnel that burrowed under the castle. The person was accompanied by three thugs who had an air of having worked as pickpockets for too long. Their clothes were torn, their swords were rusty, and their brains were null.

“So, what do we do, boss.” The tallest on of them said.

The masked personage looked at him and said “We wait for the arrival of our messenger. She should be here any minute now.”

As she said that an eagle appeared from the dark sky above and settled on one of the surrounding rocks. The personage withdrew a piece of paper from her left paw and began reading it.

“My lady, what does it say,” another one hissed.

She took off her mask, which revealed long brown hair coming down to her shoulders and a beautiful face, a contrast to the very masculine features which her black armor showed.

“Grim news. It seems like the Earl is with the count in the throne room.” She thought for a moment, and then added “We must hurry, before something happens to the count.”

So the three thugs led by the Masked Mercenary entered the tunnel. A shower of small pebbles welcomed them as they forced their way to the castle.

 

[micro1789]

Chapter 4: Tribes and Empires​

In March 1067, the Earl of Northumbria arrived in Marienburg with his loyal Saxon guard, in the hopes of getting an exile. Willem agreed to this, and following a great party, signed an agreement with the Earl which stated that Willem was to send help to the Earl in the hopes that the Earl would manage to make himself crowned King of England. However, Willem discovered the Earl’s plot to kill him and turned on his former ally.

Around the County several tribes are discussing the possibility of grouping together to annihilate the Christian threat. Dark days are ahead for the County.

-Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty

##################​

Part 1: Marienburg Castle, tunnel, following last update

“My lady, could you please slow down! My fingers are aching from this climbing.” One of the thugs said.

“Shut up. Useless, the lot of you; can’t even climb a simple wall.” Said the Masked Mercenary

Even as she said it however, she began panting heavily, her breath coming in small rasp as the climb became ever steeper.

For the last ten minutes she and her men had made their way through the dark tunnel, which went up, then plunged down into the earth, and then rose again. They couldn’t be very far away from the exit, though, because they could hear music and talking ahead of them.

Finally they arrived at the exit of the tunnel. The exit had been covered up with a tapestry to hide it from outside eyes, but they still had to be careful not to be seen. She slightly lifted the tapestry to look at the dining room.

Inside, people were having a good time talking, drinking, or otherwise enjoying themselves. As she looked, she noticed one of them staring at her, and she quickly dove back in the tunnel. However, it was already too late, for the man had gone near the guard to tell them what he saw.

“Right, well, we’ve been spotted. It’s useless staying here, they’ll kill us like rats.” She said, looking at her men.

The thugs looked nervous:

“My lady, we like you and all, but I don’t think we’re cut out for this. Sorry to say this, but we’re going to have to… Um, my lady, what are you doing?”

The Masked Mercenary stood up and looked at them, then turned around and charged through the tapestry.

“NO! Damn; I guess we’ll be forced to follow her anyway. For our lady!” said the tallest of them. At once, all three of them jumped through the opening of the tunnel.

As they stepped out in the dining room, they were greeted by the sight of their mistress surrounded by the count’s personal guard, the Companions. Elite troops, characterized by an iron discipline and an unfailing loyalty to their leader, these troops are the best soldiers Europe can offer.

Standing in the middle of the circle was another man, dressed in traditional Greek armor. This was the Marshal, and he was talking to the Masked Mercenary calmly, as if they had known each other for years.

Suddenly, a scream came from the throne room, and then a sharp thud, as if someone had fallen on the floor. The room was frozen for several seconds, as if the cold hands of death had swooped on the castle. Then the Companions all yelled “The count” and they, plus the marshal, the thugs and their mistress, all ran towards the door.

The marshal, running with an abnormal speed, arrived first at the door, only to find it locked.

“Break it open!” he yelled at the Companions, withdrawing from the door as he said it.

Three companions lined up at the door and rammed it with full strength. It did not budge. They tried again, with the same results. Finally, at their third try the door flew off its hinges and crashed on the floor, followed by the Companions as they staggered in.

Willem stood in the center of the room, holding his sword in his right hand and pinning the Earl against the wall with the other.

The Earl’s ignorance in the art of fighting had been his downfall. He had made the crucial mistake of jumping in the air to hit a static opponent, giving him the freedom to dodge his attack. That was exactly what Willem did. In the split second in which the Earl had been in the air he dove forward and grabbed his feet. He then proceeded to yank them to the ground.

The Earl had landed on the ground with a big “THUD”, and then he yelled, giving the count time to get the sword which had slipped from the Earl’s grip.

Now, Willem held the Earl tightly against the wall, when he heard the door crashing down. He dropped the Earl and turned around, coming face to face with his companions, his marshal, and the Masked Mercenary.

No, wait, there were two Masked Mercenaries.

###############​

At the same time, in the capital of the tribe of the Prussians

Hut of the Prussian chief. This is only guesswork, the real one may have been different
​

Three people entered the small hut. The first one was Adelbert, the leader of the Prussian tribe and its dominions. The second one was Mercins, a druid who led the tribe south of Marienburg; the third one was Alexios, a deranged Greek who still believed in the old Greek gods. They sat down around a small, round wood and Adelbert began speaking.

“Fellow tribesman!” he began “I have gathered you here on this day so that we may discuss the grave danger that our new neighbor bring upon us. The Christian dogs have befouled our holy ground and killed our brothers that were living there.”

“I say we attack them!” the druid said.

“Yes, we must!” Alexios cut in “and we can take revenge on our fellow brothers! We will kill the men, sacrifice the children to Zeus the Great, and rape their women to please the gods!”

Mercins looked at him crossly “I don’t think that would be such a good idea; not that I don’t enjoy killing everyone (I don’t), but you know that the great majority of our ‘brothers’ have converted to Catholicism in order to become a citizen.”

Alexios stood up; “No matter,” he said, “they will soon face the wrath of Zeus the Almighty! May He have mercy on their souls!”

Mercins opened his mouth to retaliate, but a hard glance from Adelbert shut him. Adelbert began speaking again.

“It is no matter; the time has come to liberate this land from the Christian heathen. Assemble your followers and meet me here in 3 days time. I expect at least 4000 men to assemble. This session is over, I thank you for coming.”

With this ending statement, all three stood up and left the room, leaving the fate of Marienburg hanging on a thread.

 

[Morrell8]

Perifidus Northumbrian scum. The tribal hordes will be easily crushed by the forces of the count, but I bet one of the courtiers will die.

 

[micro1789]

@Morrell8: One must die for the county, don't they
and I needed for someone to die to justify Willem invasion of France

---

Chapter 5: Wars of Prussia​

In late March 1067, a coalition of the tribes around Marienburg has finally bore fruit. Commanded by the Chief of the Prussian, the coalition has totaled about 5000 men, most being untrained tribal levy from the various villages in Prussia. In August 1067, the count inflicted the greatest military victory of the county and secured its independence. In order to bring peace to Prussia, the count has launched vast military operations in order to subdue all the barbarians and unite Prussia in one realm, the Duchy of Prussia. This would be fulfilled in 1077 with the Memel campaign, which incorporated the last of the tribes of Prussia into the county.

-Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty​

Willem looked back and forth between both Masked Mercenaries. After getting over the original shock, Willem now noticed that they were much different from each other. The one that had burst through the door with his companions was a woman, a very beautiful woman, and the other one was a man, who still had his mask on. The rivalry between the two was palpable, and they stared at each other with the eyes of demons.

“WHAT is going on here?” Willem said, heavily emphasizing on the ‘what’.

His marshal faced him and said.

“My lord, all you all right? I, well we, thought the Earl killed you.”
Willem shook his head “I’m quite all right, thank you. Now, will you tell me what is going on?”

“Yes, of course. I present to you my brother and my sister.” He paused, and when Willem opened his mouth to speak he said, “It’s a long story, so I’ll try to make it short. I’m the youngest of my family, as you probably know, and I am the son of Freidrich von Hapsburg, a German nobleman. I don’t remember my mother, because she died when she gave birth to me, and no one has had the guts to tell me about her.” He paused and gave a sharp glance at his family, before continuing. “My mother had another husband, who died in battle somewhere in Holland. With him she had three children, those two and another one somewhere in Germany. When he died, she remarried with my father and had her remaining four children, me, your steward, your chancellor, and my predecessor, your old marshal. There, now you know the story, and don’t ask me to tell it again.”

The Marshal began to go back to the Companions, but stopped halfway and said.

“I’m sure you think this is getting ridiculous, and I have and idea to end it. Let me deal with my siblings while you ship the Earl overseas. Enough is enough I say.”

Willem was bewildered. This had gone from an assassination plot to a ridiculous family reunion. A quick look at the masked man was enough to tell it was he who had written the note about the assassination, nevertheless, he agreed to the Marshal’s request and began telling everyone orders about what to do. He had regained control of the situation.

At least until a messenger came in several minutes later carrying a declaration of war from the surrounding tribes.

---

August 1067, near the village of Varyltus,

Willem rode his horse up and down his battle line, thinking of what he called the “Earl plot.” It had been resolved relatively quickly, with the Earl being exiled and the masked man managing to escape the clutches of the count’s men. The masked woman had been hired as a spymaster and her thugs had been given amnesty. No one except the Earl himself knew what pushed him to attempt the assassination of the count, but Willem had more pressing matters to deal with.

The tribal coalition force numbered 5000 in early August. After having attacked several villages on the frontier they veered inwards and now attempted to seize and burn the Christian capital.

The county had 2000 professional soldiers loyal to the state, drilled and more drilled to equal their Roman predecessors. They were led by the count himself with his marshal as co-general.

Willem rode back behind his front line to rejoin his Companions. The icing on the cake, the Companions looked deadly with their armor on, a real killing machine. The totality of the Companions had gathered here on that day, numbering almost 100 men. They included all the Hapsburg brothers and their half-sister, the first women to ever have joined the Companions.

==========BATTLE OF MARIENBURG========​

The following is an exert from “History of the Hohenzollern, Volume II”​

The battle of Marienburg, or what was called the Religious battle until the French Revolution of 1789, was the first serious battle of the county of Marienburg, and it was a major event of the Prussian wars which plagued Prussia for ten years.

THE CAMPAIGN
In 1067 the various tribes of the county of Marienburg were firmly in the sphere of influence of the city of Marienburg. At the same time the tribe of Prussians had finally finished subjugating all the lands around their homes and established several tribes around Marienburg. A war was inevitable, yet the Prussians feared the count and his army, so decided to call on the other various tribes for help. The call to arm was honored and an army of 5000 soldiers was raised to deal with the Catholic county. In response, Willem called him army of 2000 soldiers, who were the only professional army in the whole Baltic region. Several minor skirmishes along the border were followed by an offensive of the Prussians which captured several towns along the coast. Bolstered about their victory, the Prussian marched on Marienburg only to hit against the count’s forces.

SET UP
(The following sections are from Alexander's journal)
The Prussian’s forces is composed majorly of peasant levy and untrained horsemen, with a small force of elite cavalry to accompany the chief. The main tactic of the Prussian is the consistent pounding of the front line with their army until they break. This primitive tactic has worked to achieve a Prussian hegemony of Prussia, but will be eclipsed with the arrival of the far more disciplined count’s troops

The count’s force is composed of professional soldiers armed with the style of the Roman Republic, and drilled to death to make a disciplined force that has almost no possibility of routing. The count does not have a general tactic, however it is said that he is more willing to risk his neck in battle.

Map of both army's setup. Green is Prussian, Yellow is the county's troops.
​

BATTLE
The battle begins by the charge of the Prussian centre to the count’s center in an attempt to break their cohesion, which failed. The count’s center then advances to meet the approaching Prussian’s second line. Meanwhile, on the flanks, the Prussian horsemen hard press the count’s light spearmen; in an effort to relieve the pressure of his flanks, Willem orders part of the reserve to help the spearmen repulse the cavalry charge.

In an effort to slow down the approaching count’s troops, the chief of the Prussians orders his soldiers to feign a retreat. The ruse works as the count’s first line rush forward to eliminate the retreating Prussians. After having ran a few feet, the Prussians turn around and cut down the pursuing infantry.

On Willem’s left flank, the situation is dire. The Prussians have broken through the infantry and attempt to envelope the counts forces. Willem, willing to die rather than lose such an important battle, charges the Prussians with his Companions. The Prussian chief does the same and a bloody fighting insures. In the end, Willem is victorious over his foe, having killed the chief and nearly 20 of his elite guard. The remnants of the Prussians force lose heart and rout. The count has won the battle, however the death of the count’s steward at the hands of the Prussian was heart-breaking. This death would indirectly lead the count to invade France at the head of his army’s in 1079.

AFTERMATH​

The battle broke the backbone of the Prussian army and killed their leader, and secured Prussian Hegemony over the Prussian region. It also showed the superiority of professional armies over levy ones, even though this would be virtually ignored throughout the 12th, 13th and the beginning of the 14th century.

 

[Morrell8]

A desvastating victory for the count, shame about the steward though. Lets see how this invasion of France goes.

 

[micro1789]

Chapter 6: The Duke of Prussia and the King of France.​

In 1077, after 10 years of fighting, count Willem von Hohenzollern had forged a county stretching throughout Prussia and in Lithuania. In the same year he crowned himself Duke of Prussia with the accordance of his bishop, and was also given the surname of ‘the founder’ for having created the Duchy of Prussia, a haven for whoever was exiled, since it usually allowed them in. However, not everyone was happy. The nobility, long used to having special privileges, were treated much worst than before, almost as much as the peasantry. This raised dissent in Willem’s vassals, but did not threaten the realm’s stability, which was anchored in the peasant’s and burghers of the land.

In 1079, the French Civil War began, as a result of the constant warfare that the King waged across Europe and the Middle East. Almost all vassals rose against the King, notably Baldwin II of Flanders and the Duke of Aquitaine were fierce opposition to the King’s power.

-Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty​

May 1077, throne room

The count slowly walked between his subjects, who were bowing before him. He stepped up to the throne where stood his bishop, his marshal, his chancellor, and his wife, the beautiful Anne von Hapsburg, formerly known as the Masked Mercenary. He took her hand and smiled at her, and she smiled back, knowing that she would finally become what she had wanted for so long; she would be a mother.

The bishop began speaking to Willem.

“Willem von Hohenzollern, count of Marienburg and all territories of the Prussian Duchy, I, bishop of the Pope and god, by the power hereby given to me by you, the count, the Pope, our leader, and God, our savior, I proclaim you Duke of Prussia and your wife Duchess of Prussia. May you have a long and fruitful life with many children.”

With this, he took a small jar of water and poured it on his head, a something which would become a custom of the Prussian Monarchs for years to come.

Soaked, but overjoyed at being a Duke once again, Willem turned around to face his subjects and raised his hands in a sign of triumph. At once, the whole room erupted into a multitude of praises and of “Longue vie aux Roi!” (Long live the King).

He was getting ready to step down from the throne when he heard someone crying next to him. At first, he thought it was his wife, but he looked and saw that the Chancellor was the one that was crying. The Chancellor noticed him and said.

“Sorry, my Duke, but I couldn’t help myself. It seems like it was yesterday that we left Flanders; look at us now, you’ve been crowned as Duke once again, and the Duchy is stronger than ever before. Though I do fell sad about my brother’s fate…”

Willem turned away, and stepped down from his throne, mulling over his thoughts. As he passed through the crowd of people who cheered him, he was stooped by a messenger, who gave him a piece of paper.

On it was written 7 words which would spark off a war in which one of every 4 French men would die.

It said: “Baldwin has died, and Flanders is yours.”

---

June 1077, Marienburg harbor

Willem looked at his children who were playing with sticks around the harbor. His oldest son, Henri, was 10, and did not resemble to his father, but instead to his mother. He was shrewd and had great cunning, even more than Willem’s own court. On the other hand, 9 year old Louis was French by heart, as well as a great warrior and tactician. Both had been rivals to their father’s approval, and both had done well in achieving it.

His third child, Charles, was standing some way off, talking to the merchants who came by. Willem had trouble believing that this was child, despite what his wife said. Not only did he have a talent to merchant businesses that neither Willem nor his wife had, but he was supposed to have been born during the time that Willem was on campaign, and had been so for nearly 18 months.

“My lord, are you ready?” his marshal was speaking to him from one of the ships next to him.

“Yes, I will board in a moment.” He said. He then called to his children to say good bye.

“But, dad” Louis said “I wanna come; I wanna kill the people who killed uncle Maestary*.”

“Son, you have a fiery character. I am sorry, but you are too young to come. Wait a couple of 7 years and you’ll reach adulthood, and THEN you can come with me to battle.”

Louis’ shoulders slumped, and Willem kissed them all goodbye. He then climbed onboard his ship. The sails were brought up, the anchor was raised, and the ship was off, towards France.

---

Willem observed his soldiers as they marched along the main road, know as the “Grande Route” (literally big road in French). Of the 5000 soldiers that had landed in Flanders City, nearly 3000 were Prussian, and the majority of the 2000 others were immigrants from various countries. This worried Willem greatly, as the difference in language made communications hard. He pushed that thought out of his mind as he rode onwards.

After several minutes of riding, he came upon a small gathering of people. He halted in front of them and dismounted his horse, stopping for a moment to watch his men trail away southwards to help the Flanders Rebellion.

Standing in front of him was Jean de Valois, supporter of the Rebellion, and Heinrich von Schwabia, leader of the Rebellion. On either side of Willem were his marshal and chancellor. In front of them was a small table, and on it was a map of the French realms.

“Hello, my dear Willem” Heinrich said “’tis good to see you; I assume you will take personal control of Flanders now that you are back”

“I do not know; I would think you are the worthier one to take up the mantle. No matter, we shall discuss this matter. I suggest we talk about the war that is ravaging the countryside. Philip’s forces are marching northwards again, or so I have heard. Our objective should be to soundly beat him before liberating our entire Homeland.”

Everyone looked at each other, whispered a bit, and then nodded, proving once again the superiority of the Hohenzollern family

Farther south, the Franco-Prussian force has had a glimpse at Philip’s army. War had been declared, and one side would end up ruined by it.

 

[micro1789]

Here is a bonus for all my readAAR:

A MAP OF FRANCE IN 1080 (at the end of the French Civil War)


​

Explanation:

The French crown in 1080 is very weak. After a large civil war, the Duchy of Aquitaine (Green) has secured independance from Philippe (dark blue). Philippe, in an effort to eliminate all rebellions, has granted independance to the Duchy of Provence (Orange) as a tributary, which gets overlooked quickly. The United Provinces of Flanders (Yellow) formed in 1079 after the death of Baldwin II of Flanders, quickly followed by the Duchy of Anjou (light blue) and the Duke of Valois, the latter because Philippe captured his capital.
The United Provinces end the war in 1080 following the capture of Paris.

Other factions include:
The Kingdom of England (Red)
The Kingdom of Brittany (Dark red-ish)
The Kingdom of Burgundy and Italy (Brown-ish)
The Constitutional Imperial Republic (more on this later (Members in Pink))
The Duchy of Valencia (bottom - dark blue)
The Emirate of Valencia (bottom - Grey)

 

[micro1789]

Chapter 7: A New Era​

In 1079, the Duke of Prussia landed in Flanders with the intention of supporting the Rebellion against the King of France. The Duke personally led 5000 soldiers against Philippe’s 20000 soldiers strong army, and defeated him once at the battle of Valois, and another time at the battle of Anjou. Willem then entered Paris triumphantly without facing resistance, and captured the King of France. The people cheered him and urged him to proclaim himself as King of France, however Willem turned down their offer and simply signed peace with Philippe, which recognized the independence of the United Provinces of Flanders and of the Duchy of Anjou, the latter which was now ruled by the ‘de Valois’ family.

In the early 1080, Willem boarded his ship to get back to Prussia. His refusal of the French Crown severed his last ties with France, forever.

- Willenard von Hapsburg, Imperial Scribe to his Majesty​

---

February 1080, port of Flanders city
The people had gathered around the Prussian ship. It had been nearly 2 weeks since the war had ended, and still the people of Flanders cheered the Prussian army and especially their chief, Willem I, Duke of Prussia. Now, they still cheered them, but the enthusiasm had left them, for the Prussians were getting ready to leave, gathering the remnants of the things needed for the trip back to Prussia.

Willem was standing near the ship, overseeing the loading and shouting encouragements at the nearest of his soldiers. His marshal was helping his soldiers, and his chancellor was nowhere in sight.

“Feeling sad, my lord”

Willem was startled, and he turned around quickly, his sword drawn; but it was only his chancellor.

“Good Lor… I mean goodness! You frightened me.”

“Excuse me, my lord, but I was feeling down.” At Willem interrogative gaze, he said “I went to see the countryside, you know, to cure myself of my nostalgia. What I saw only made it worst.”

Willem nodded silently. He had known for quite a while the state of Flanders. Constant fighting for nearly a year took a toll on the land. Add to that the pillaging armies of Philippe and the need of supply for the Prussian army and you get a desolate place, full of waste and destruction. The fields were unusable for at 6 months, and the reserve of food of the realm could only give about 2 months worth.

“The future is looking grim for the Flemish people. But maybe that is for the best. Come, chancellor, let us board our ship and head back to Prussia.”

---

March 1080, off the coast of Prussia, in Willem’s bedroom

Willem listened to his Chancellor speak. They had spoken about Flanders for much of the time of the trip, and it was clear to both of them that going back to Flanders would be a distinctly unlikely, with the revolts and invasions his new realm faced. Times were hard, and he could not waste time worrying about a land which was never his real home.

“So, how do you think the Duchy is shaping? The attachment of the Duchy of Lithuania seems to have quelled down the rebellious spirit the nobles had; I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t beg me to go conquer some other uncivilized Pagan again.”

They both broke into laughter, and shared their stories again. The Chancellor told him about the time the Teutonic Order had come to ask for lands around and in Memel. Willem chuckled, but stopped quickly and looked very serious.

“What, I don’t remember that.”

The Chancellor looked uneasy.

“I must have forgotten to tell you. It was during the Lithuanian campaign, some Monk named Muenster barged in the throne room yelling that the Prussians must cede the lands of Memel by order of the Pope, or risk getting excommunicated. I told him to be off and… My Lord, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

Willem had gotten up and began to punch the bed. He kept punching it for nearly 5 minutes, and then relaxed. When he turned around, and saw the Chancellor he promptly recommenced his punching. Finally he relaxed and sat down next to his Chancellor again.

“So, explain to me the REASON behind your… initiative? You know I could have been excommunicated for that, right?”

“Hum, my Lord, I thought you did not care about being exiled from the church, since you are not a very good Catholic, with the adultery and all. Plus, I did not think you would have liked to have some Teutonic German monks settling on you provinces and killing half your population due to ‘Heathen beliefs’ or something similar.”

Willem frowned “Seems to me that you have more of a grudge against them for some reason. No matter, as long as I didn’t get excommunicated, the better.”

“MY LORD!” Someone yelled from outside.

Willem hurried outside, closely followed by his Chancellor.

Huddled around Willem’s captain were several crewmembers trying to get a glimpse through what looked like a spyglass. As Willem came near they parted, some of them grudgingly, to let their Duke see what was happening. Willem’s captain handed Willem wordlessly.

Willem peaked through the spyglass. He saw a dark mass in the distance, which intrigued him; he looked at it more carefully, and saw it was a ship. A BIG ship.

And it was heading strait for them.

---

Willem hung on to one of the last pieces of wood from his ship.

The approaching ship had rammed them with so much force that it had splintered his ship into tiny pieces. He had been thrown overboard as soon as the ships had collided, and had been forced to watch as his beloved ship and crew were scattered and crushed. Then the unknown ship, not intent on being caught with the remnants of Willem’s navy, fled the scene.

That was not the only bad thing that had happened, however. He had seen his Chancellor, the last of the Hapsburg brothers to have joined Willem when he fled Flanders, be crushed between two pieces of flotsam and subsequently die. Things were looking grim for Willem, even as his Marshal’s ship was coming to save him.

His Marshal and his men hauled him on board.

“Marshal, who was this” Willem said between two shivers. The water was freezing around the Baltic, especially in March. “Who was it that killed your brother, my Chancellor?”

His marshal looked horror-struck.

“My brother is dead…dead…dead.” He put his head in his hand and wept.

“The Teutons did this, my Lord.” A sailor said “I saw their flag.”

 

[Morrell8]

Excommunication ho! Another brother dies. Will the Hapsburg line even continue?

 

[micro1789]

Chapter 8: Prussian Dominance​

Following the death of the steward of Prussia and the aggression of the Duke by the Teutons, the Duchy grew farther from the Pope with every passing day. In 1081 the Pope once again asked for land to settle the warrior monks, and once again Willem refused, stating the assault he faced as a reason. In 1082, the crusades to retake Burgos from the Muslim had succeeded, which bolstered the Pope’s diminishing authority and permitted him to ask once more for land for the Teutons, proposal which was once more refused by Willem. However, the capital was struck by Dysentery shortly afterwards, and the people thought this to be an evil omen.

Not all things were bad, however. In 1084 Prussia won yet another war against the Baltic Pagans in Lithuania, crushing the last of the Heathens and dividing the land with their ally of the Principality of Kiev; and in 1087, the Duchy made its first step into the much wanted region of Finland.

---

May 1085, Marienburg

“Hello, my lords. How do you do today?” A merchant, apparently supervising his crew loading his ship, said.

“Fine, my dear lad, fine; how’s family.”

The one who answered was Charles, the handsome, 16 year old prince, who was now the steward of the Duchy. With him was Henri, the 18 year old son of the Duke, who had a reputation of being one of the shrewdest people of his time. No one knows how much of that rumor was true, but he was a great orator, so people didn’t ask too many questions. The other one next to Charles was Louis, 17 years old, currently Willem’s favorite and the most likely heir to the throne. His military abilities had developed fully, and he used them well, defeating his foes several times during his short career. Antisocial in nature, his face was not much encouraging to anyone, bearing the scars of his previous campaigns as a reminder to all.

While Charles was talking to his merchant friends, Henri and Louis walked along the harbor, admiring the ships but not talking to each other.

Finally, Henri broke the silence.

“So, did you hear about the new rumor that is going around the castle?”

Louis answered with a gruff ‘yes.’

“Well, if you would believe it, it seems like our father has harbored another bastard with someone, presumably a Russian 18 year old woman.”

Louis groaned, and then turned his eyes on his brother. They stood there staring at each other for some time before Henri laughed.

“Still as silent, are you Louis? Maybe a Pagan bewitched your weak soul.”

At once Louis pounced on Henri, but too late, since Henri had already dove out of the. Before Henri could dive on his brother again, however, his keen eye spotted a large ship mooring at the harbor. Out of it came out a large delegation of bishops and archbishops, followed by several warrior-monks of the Teutonic Order.

The last one to come out was the leader of the curia, Pope Gregory VII.

---

Later, Marienburg castle

“…and so the Pope, leader of the Curia and of the Catholic church, divinely appointed by God and Jesus, demands that the Duke of Prussia, Lithuania, Estonia, and all affiliate territories, cedes the lands of Memel to the Order of the Teutonic Knights, or face the effect of this decision.”

The bishop withdrew from the front of the throne to join the ranks of the members of the Curia. Willem pondered on the situation. He was alone on this, even though he was surrounded by his advisors; he could not call on their help, for it would look very odd discussing in private in front of the Pope. He stood up.

“My dear members of the Curia; I will cut strait to the point. I will NOT give lands to an order that I do not believe will hold any sway in the region. All they will do is exterminate my people on the shaky claims of Heresy, and then bring settlers from the German lands. No, this treaty if not advantageous to me. I refuse.”

The bishop began stepping forward again, but he was stopped by the Pope, who stepped forward himself.

“Duke, you have defied the high authority of the church. Your heresy is great, and it is with joy that I pronounce your Excommunication on you and your family! May your soul be cursed forever!”

Louis’s eyes were blazing with rage as he Pope and the Curia stepped out of the room towards their ship.

Willem sighed “I guess our family is cursed, forever…”

 

[micro1789]

Chapter 9: Heretics, Heretics everywhere!​

The excommunication issued by the Pop took its toll on the Hohenzollern family. The sons of Willem were harshly treated, being shunned from all public activities and being the subject of a lot of insults, which provoked a lot of retaliation, especially from Louis. Willem suffered the most however. He soon fell into a deep depression, which evolved into madness as he told everyone that they were Heretic. After a while, the Bishop ordered the Duke to be attached to a bed and that a priest beat him with a cross in order to force the Devil out.

Meanwhile, the 3 brothers put away their differences and acted as regents to the Duke while he was ill. This fragile alliance held out until the death of the Duke.

---

Willem stared at the ceiling, not paying attention to the rite occurring around him. They were Heretic, possessed by the devil. He could not give them the satisfaction of reaction, or they might demand more. Maybe even his life.

Still, he looked above him and saw a large cross, brandished on a lance and held by a priest. A Heretical priest. Willem opened his mouth to tell him to be off, you cursed Heretic. The priest reeled back, and then hit him hard with the cross. Willem yelled, and attempted to hit the priest. The priest merely shrugged off his futile attempts and kept hitting him, harder and harder until Willem stopped moving.

“You idiotic fool. Stop resisting and you will be spared from pain; of course if you are possessed than you cannot help it. Here, to make your life easier, I will undo your chains.”

The Priest reached over and unlatched Willem, whose first move was to bring his fist up and punch the Priest’s chin. The Priest fell backwards onto the floor, giving Willem the time to undo the bounds holding his feet. After he was free, Willem reached over and grabbed the Priests cross.

“What in the world is going on in this place? Huh…” The guard was stunned to see Willem holding the Priest’s cross and even more when he swung it at him and hit him in the face. Willem then proceeded to stab the Priest in the heart with the blunt part of the cross, killing him.

Willem stepped out into the small corridor of the lower castle. Large candles lit the corridor and light spilled everywhere, revealing to Willem that the guard had heard the commotion and was heading towards him from either side of the corridor. Willem, determined not to let the Heretic get it their way, took the sword that the guard had held and brandished it. It did not stop his attackers who rushed along the walls. Finally they met.

Willem slashed at the closest guard, catching him in the stomach. He fell on his knees and then slumped to the musty ground, blood coming from the corners of his mouth. Willem redid this for his next attacker, and kicked the third one, sending him sprawling against his friends. Willem took his chance; he leaped above them and continued along the corridor.

He came to the end of the corridor, in front of a locked wooden door. Cursing his luck, he tried to backtrack, but was stopped by the horde of guards attempting to get him. To beat them back he grabbed a candle and threw it at them, burning the ones in front of him and making them run around attempting to put out the fire. At this moment the door opened violently. Willem was put off by this, but he managed to catch a glimpse of a woman heading up the stairs beyond the door. Grabbing his opportunity, he crossed the door and climbed the stairs as quick as he could.

The floor upstairs bore a large resemblance to the one upstairs, only that the corridor was larger, and that it was not a corridor, but a hallway. Willem hurried along the hallway, spotted an open door and rushed inside, closing the door as he went in.

The first thing he felt upon entering the room was the sense of a trap. That sense loosened when he saw his wife at the window, and it loosened even more as she approached him. As she was nearing him, however, he felt someone pull him backwards into a chair, and then wrap a rope around him, making him a prisoner once again.

“WHO DARES DO THIS TO THE DUKE OF PRUSSIA? SHOW YOURSELVES!” He roared as he vainly attempted to get himself free. The ropes were far stronger than the usual ropes, but he saw that his sword fell not far away from him, almost close enough to reach.

“Ah, the Duke of Prussia. Willem, isn’t it? Nice to meet you, my name is Borislav Putingrov, Russian secret agent at the service of the KGB.” At Willem blank expression, he sighed and said “It seems that my superiors were right. You are underdeveloped. No time to explain, just to tell you that I come from the future. 2027, to be exact, not that you would care or understand what that means. It was just to tell you that…”

“Heretic! You are a heretic! Liberate me from these bounds so that you may face what is needed for you kin!”

Borislav looked annoyed “How much of the potion did you give him, Yekaterina?”

“5 drops, I think.” Willem’s wife answered.

“5 drops! That is too much, one drop is well enough. If you would have listened to me, we wouldn’t have this moron yelling insults about heresy right now.”

They began fighting among each other, which gave time for Willem to grab his sword and cut himself free.

“Sorry to interrupt on you heresy,” he said “but I’m wondering which one of you should get their heads severed from their body first. Maybe you, Sir Borislot, or whatever your name is.”

Willem took a step forward, and Borislav, quick as lighting, drew out a gun from his breast pocket. It was a gun dating from the 1880’s, but was still in good shape, considering it went nearly 800 years back in time.

“Borislav, how did you get a gun?” Yekaterina said, slightly afraid.

“Long story; I’ll tell you later”

As he said it Willem, who apparently had decided that the odd looking object was not worth consideration, jumped forward towards Borislav and attempted to kill him.

A gunshot was heard in the castle, much before guns were known there.

---

Henri woke up, startled by the strange noise he heard. It was like lightning, yet no lighting was in the air. He got out of his bed to inquire about it, when he noticed a letter at the foot of his bed. He took it and read it:

Dear Henri,

By the time you are reading this, your father will have been killed by orders of the Pope, and I will have fled the Duchy in order to avoid persecution by the Pope. I am sorry to have to announce it to you so brutally, but what is done is done. Do not feel sad about your father, for the devil had take hold onto his soul; his death is a necessity for him and the castle. Forgive me for fleeing into the wild; I needed to flee from the Pope.

Your mother will love you forever,
Your mother

Henri reread the letter. He was oddly relieved to finally know that his father was dead; he had been secretly hoping that for a long time, and now that he was sure he would become Duke of Prussia.

However, there was a problem. His disloyal brothers will most likely attempt to take the throne from him. He had to act quickly to outmaneuver them; the nobles were the place to start. Once you had the loyalty of the nobles, you are sure of getting the crown. However, it would be a bitter fight, as his brothers would never give up on the throne.

But neither would he.

 

[Morrell8]

Woah! He has gone to the east and purchased a firearm from the Muslims! Scary.

 

[Enewald]

New Homelands?