Very good indeed, will be interesting to see what Fitheal will accomplish as a duke.
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Hey SD, good to see you. That shot actually has his final stats after Intricate Webweaver. I did cheat in prodigy, but don't worry, I'll be cheating in some negative events for him too. 
General_BT, thanks for reading. I'm a fan of Rome AARisen!
Herbert West, I haven't played Ars Magica, is it worth checking out? And I see a Norse Vicky AAR, cool!
Snugglie, hopefully something interesting! I've only played a couple of years past the last post so far, he's done one or two cool things at least.
I may update today if I have time before leaving, otherwise it'll probably be Monday.
General_BT, thanks for reading.
I'm a fan of Rome AARisen!Herbert West, I haven't played Ars Magica, is it worth checking out? And I see a Norse Vicky AAR, cool!
Snugglie, hopefully something interesting! I've only played a couple of years past the last post so far, he's done one or two cool things at least.
I may update today if I have time before leaving, otherwise it'll probably be Monday.
Skyman said:
Its the only RPG in which they have truly captured the Lebensphilosophie and worldwiev of the Dark Ages.
"Why don't you tell us about the war between England and Wales," said Tomman. "That sounds more interesting."
"Ah, too young for tales of romance, are you?" replied the bard. "Well, I'm sorry, romance and war are too often linked so tightly that they cannot be pulled apart. And in any case, that war was brief and uneventful, ending before Fitheal's coronation. If you'll let me continue, a war that is closer to our subject would soon be on its way."
-----------
On November 18th, 1085, just three days after his coronation as Duke of Leinster, Fitheal declared himself to be the rightful Duke of Ulster as well. A new crown was crafted by a renowned Ulster goldsmith, far more decorative than the plain band Murchaid had preferred.
"My father placed these lands under his protection," Fitheal stated to the assembled petty noblemen, scribes, and soldiers. "But storm clouds gather in our realm, and declarations of protection are not enough. The lands of the east and north of Ireland are one, and shall remain so, under one Duke. Woe be to those who would seek to destroy this unity."
Fitheal was well liked by most of the people of his lands, though the northern nobles were wary that he was beginning to overreach. There was great rejoicing as word of the birth of the Duke's son Tadc was heralded through every village, town, and castle. Soon another message had to be sent, as the child had died before news of his birth could even reach the further edges the realm.
There was some mourning, but most assumed that the young and fertile couple would soon produce another heir; they were both still under twenty yet. But in private the relationship was already growing sour. Fitheal had raged endlessly after the death of his son. Ceara had seen a strange, almost unnatural gleam in his eyes as he accused her of bearing "A false gift from them!"
He had soon grown calm again, but he was not the gentle and caring soul Ceara had fallen for. He was rough, almost cruel in their lovemaking, and when he looked at her across the dinner table in the great hall, there was no warmth in his expression. Instead of the poetry he had spoken before, he began to dwell on his responsibilities, suggesting that Leinster must be prepared for war or famine.
"You brought me here because you loved me, Fitheal Ui Mordha!" exclaimed Ceara one evening. "Or at least you said you did. Well if you will not give me that, then let me go!" But he would not. He forbade her to leave the castle, though she refused to see him except when courtly ceremony required it.
Fitheal's declaration of sovereignty over Ulster began to erode relations with the county of Ulaid, which was part of the Kingdom of Wales but bordered only by the Dukedom of Leinster and Ulster. Fitheal did not make any direct threats, but both sides traded barbs back and forth. Soon, Fitheal ran into a bit of luck when an enterprising Ulaid man-at-arms decided to take the ancient Bell of Saint Patrick from where it rested in a cathedral in Ulaid, and bring it to Laigin. The man was given some land on the Isle of Man (where another betrayal would mean little), and the Bell was put on display. "The relics of our patron have always belonged in the keeping of true Irishman," read Fitheal's proclomation. "And those who pledge alliegance to foreign kings are not truly Irish."
This proclamation had been written by his chancellor Donal, who was frantically doing his best to avoid a war coming too soon, as Fitheal spent his time readying Leinster for the inevitable conflict to come. Donal proved to be quite successful, for he had a way with words, and he was inspired by devotion to his liege.
Donal would not be able to hold back war forever, though. Even as a second war between England and Wales began after a dispute over the minor border changes from the last, Fitheal gave a speech claiming his right to the regions of Meath not under his dominion. "Dublin is where I was born, and it is the center of Meath. King Bleddyn chose to bully the lords of western Meath into bowing to him, and the new King Maredudd has refused to recognize the falsehood of his supposed sovereignty over our island. If the Dukes of Munster and Connacht choose to give up their freedom, so be it, but Meath does not belong to them."
Ceara saw that there was not only ambition in Fitheal as he gave that speech, but also fear and loneliness. He was taking on a burden that was too great for him alone. That night she went to his bed, and a child was conceived.
The newfound romance did not last, however, as in the morning she found Fitheal to once again be distant and cold. He would not have distractions. He would have war.
There had been ample time to prepare. The Irish armies of Wales had departed for Britain days ago. There was time for Leinster and Ulster to marshal their forces careful before taking the lands that were rightfully theirs.
"Ah, too young for tales of romance, are you?" replied the bard. "Well, I'm sorry, romance and war are too often linked so tightly that they cannot be pulled apart. And in any case, that war was brief and uneventful, ending before Fitheal's coronation. If you'll let me continue, a war that is closer to our subject would soon be on its way."
-----------
On November 18th, 1085, just three days after his coronation as Duke of Leinster, Fitheal declared himself to be the rightful Duke of Ulster as well. A new crown was crafted by a renowned Ulster goldsmith, far more decorative than the plain band Murchaid had preferred.
"My father placed these lands under his protection," Fitheal stated to the assembled petty noblemen, scribes, and soldiers. "But storm clouds gather in our realm, and declarations of protection are not enough. The lands of the east and north of Ireland are one, and shall remain so, under one Duke. Woe be to those who would seek to destroy this unity."
Fitheal was well liked by most of the people of his lands, though the northern nobles were wary that he was beginning to overreach. There was great rejoicing as word of the birth of the Duke's son Tadc was heralded through every village, town, and castle. Soon another message had to be sent, as the child had died before news of his birth could even reach the further edges the realm.
There was some mourning, but most assumed that the young and fertile couple would soon produce another heir; they were both still under twenty yet. But in private the relationship was already growing sour. Fitheal had raged endlessly after the death of his son. Ceara had seen a strange, almost unnatural gleam in his eyes as he accused her of bearing "A false gift from them!"
He had soon grown calm again, but he was not the gentle and caring soul Ceara had fallen for. He was rough, almost cruel in their lovemaking, and when he looked at her across the dinner table in the great hall, there was no warmth in his expression. Instead of the poetry he had spoken before, he began to dwell on his responsibilities, suggesting that Leinster must be prepared for war or famine.
"You brought me here because you loved me, Fitheal Ui Mordha!" exclaimed Ceara one evening. "Or at least you said you did. Well if you will not give me that, then let me go!" But he would not. He forbade her to leave the castle, though she refused to see him except when courtly ceremony required it.
Fitheal's declaration of sovereignty over Ulster began to erode relations with the county of Ulaid, which was part of the Kingdom of Wales but bordered only by the Dukedom of Leinster and Ulster. Fitheal did not make any direct threats, but both sides traded barbs back and forth. Soon, Fitheal ran into a bit of luck when an enterprising Ulaid man-at-arms decided to take the ancient Bell of Saint Patrick from where it rested in a cathedral in Ulaid, and bring it to Laigin. The man was given some land on the Isle of Man (where another betrayal would mean little), and the Bell was put on display. "The relics of our patron have always belonged in the keeping of true Irishman," read Fitheal's proclomation. "And those who pledge alliegance to foreign kings are not truly Irish."
This proclamation had been written by his chancellor Donal, who was frantically doing his best to avoid a war coming too soon, as Fitheal spent his time readying Leinster for the inevitable conflict to come. Donal proved to be quite successful, for he had a way with words, and he was inspired by devotion to his liege.
Donal would not be able to hold back war forever, though. Even as a second war between England and Wales began after a dispute over the minor border changes from the last, Fitheal gave a speech claiming his right to the regions of Meath not under his dominion. "Dublin is where I was born, and it is the center of Meath. King Bleddyn chose to bully the lords of western Meath into bowing to him, and the new King Maredudd has refused to recognize the falsehood of his supposed sovereignty over our island. If the Dukes of Munster and Connacht choose to give up their freedom, so be it, but Meath does not belong to them."
Ceara saw that there was not only ambition in Fitheal as he gave that speech, but also fear and loneliness. He was taking on a burden that was too great for him alone. That night she went to his bed, and a child was conceived.
The newfound romance did not last, however, as in the morning she found Fitheal to once again be distant and cold. He would not have distractions. He would have war.
There had been ample time to prepare. The Irish armies of Wales had departed for Britain days ago. There was time for Leinster and Ulster to marshal their forces careful before taking the lands that were rightfully theirs.
"Finally," said Aodh. The children did not interrupt the bard any further than that when it came to the war."
---------------
Troops from Laigin and Ulster marched immediately into Mide. Only a small contingent of guards remained, the rest having been sent to fight with England. The Mide soldiers fled immediately, not daring to engage in battle.
Fitheal set up a great series of tents, and a feast was held in the town of Mide, to which villagers and enemy servants alike were invited. The smell of suckling pig wafted through the air, and minstrels and colorful banners made the invasion the most cheerful event in memory for the region. There was a sort of siege; castle-dwellers would be allowed to come out to the feast, but not to return inside, and no food would be sent in. Count Donnchadh arrived with the last of his decimated regiment, only to find the steward of his castle dining with Duke Fitheal. He had no chance in a test of arms, and the people were not inclined to turn on Fitheal now, so the Count was forced to recognize Fitheal's claim.
The battle for Ulaid was somewhat more difficult. Malachy O'Brien reached the castle with a large force from Dublin. Ulaid and Dublin troops skirmished for a few days, and Malachy found himself overmatched tactically; only the advantage in numbers kept his force from collapsing, until Ulster reinforcements arrived to turn the tide. The Ulaid regiment was driven away from the town, where the fort was besieged. It took nearly a month, but the garrison realized that no Welsh help was arriving, and Leinster had enough men on the island to rotate the besiegers. They surrendered, and the Count was forced to stay in Wales in exile.
Word kept arriving that the fight in Britain was not going well for the Kingdom of Wales. The English had a manpower advantage, but William was also one of the great generals of the age, and Maredudd was merely adequate. Soon an envoy arrived in Mide, as Fitheal was setting up his new governors and preparing to return to Laigin. He presented the seal of Wales, and an official document recognizing Leinster's right to all the territory of Meath and Ulster. Fitheal accepted the peace offering, glad to see that his lands had barely been touched by the conflict, while Wales and England were still bloodying each other.
A contingent of Leinster soldiers had been sent across St. George's channel to land in Wales, just in case peace was not made. They witnessed the humiliating Welsh surrender to England, in which William de Normandie's right to the Dukedom of Gwynnedd was recognized, and the territory of Powys was given over to English control.
-----------
"Wait, that's it?" exclaimed Sine angrily. "A few skirmishes and an easy surrender?"
The bard gave his gap-toothed grin. "Ah, well, I prefer not to embellish my stories, as those who are desperate for approval and extra coins often do. But don't worry, Fitheal was not done with war. Nor would everything else in his life be easy."
-----------
A few months later, Fitheal's second son was born, and this one was healthier.
Fitheal now had two cares: the realm, and Faelan. It is said that Faelan had barely stood on two feet before Fitheal pressed a wooden sword into his hand. The boy rarely cried, and was quick to laugh, delighting in people and flowers and animals and the fancy toys Fitheal had shipped from a craftsman in Zeeland. It is my belief that Fitheal loved his son so much because he was the only bridge between the human world and that of the Fair Folk; like his father, Faelan had their ichor in his veins, but he had human blood as well. He was of this world and beyond it.
Of course, such care for the realm made it flourish, and such care for the boy made him grow strong as well, but Fitheal focused on these things to the exclusion of all else. His wife grew ever more distant, and Fionnghulla, who had married his father, began to grow bitter. Her late husband might not have had the talent of his son, but Murchaid would not have started pointless wars in which Irish blood was shed, nor would he have ignored Fionnghulla in the way Fitheal ignored Ceara. She came to Fitheal's study, and asked him to change his ways.
She was gone from the castle by the morning, and the servants whispered of the Lord's screams of rage.
Fitheal's isolation grew. He played with his son, spoke with his advisers in official capacity, and exchanged terse words with the servants delivering his food. Every fortnight or so he would dine with Donal O'Brien, and they would laugh and remember what it had been like to be carefree boys. Besides Donal, his crowns were his best friends, and sometimes he would place them on a podium before him and stare at them for hours. They grew tiresome, though, so he decided to add another.
At the ceremony, there was rejoicing, and fine food served by a famous French chef. It was spring, and lovers wove flower crowns for each others' hair to mirror the burnished copper one Fitheal wore. The warmth and festivities and accolades pleased the Duke, and his mood began to improve. However, one dallying pair would bring his bile back up.
He caught his wife and his best friend lying together in a tangle of clothes, in a copse of trees near the Laigin river. He stared, his eyes empty and cold. Ceara gasped and rushed away, though her expression showed only venom, not remorse. Donal hastily pulled on his clothes, though not before Fitheal saw that his whole body was blushing. Donal stammered apologies and explanations, before rushing back to the castle.
The rumors spread quickly, but to everyone's surprise there were no shouts of anger or banishments. Donal continued in his capacity as chancellor, albeit always with a nervous twitch. Ceara continued to sit by her husband in official ceremonies. But there seemed to be something more frightening in the Duke's eyes, now. There was a deadness, a darkness, as if that strange light with which his supernatural parents had imbued him was now covered by a shade.
---------------
Troops from Laigin and Ulster marched immediately into Mide. Only a small contingent of guards remained, the rest having been sent to fight with England. The Mide soldiers fled immediately, not daring to engage in battle.
Fitheal set up a great series of tents, and a feast was held in the town of Mide, to which villagers and enemy servants alike were invited. The smell of suckling pig wafted through the air, and minstrels and colorful banners made the invasion the most cheerful event in memory for the region. There was a sort of siege; castle-dwellers would be allowed to come out to the feast, but not to return inside, and no food would be sent in. Count Donnchadh arrived with the last of his decimated regiment, only to find the steward of his castle dining with Duke Fitheal. He had no chance in a test of arms, and the people were not inclined to turn on Fitheal now, so the Count was forced to recognize Fitheal's claim.
The battle for Ulaid was somewhat more difficult. Malachy O'Brien reached the castle with a large force from Dublin. Ulaid and Dublin troops skirmished for a few days, and Malachy found himself overmatched tactically; only the advantage in numbers kept his force from collapsing, until Ulster reinforcements arrived to turn the tide. The Ulaid regiment was driven away from the town, where the fort was besieged. It took nearly a month, but the garrison realized that no Welsh help was arriving, and Leinster had enough men on the island to rotate the besiegers. They surrendered, and the Count was forced to stay in Wales in exile.
Word kept arriving that the fight in Britain was not going well for the Kingdom of Wales. The English had a manpower advantage, but William was also one of the great generals of the age, and Maredudd was merely adequate. Soon an envoy arrived in Mide, as Fitheal was setting up his new governors and preparing to return to Laigin. He presented the seal of Wales, and an official document recognizing Leinster's right to all the territory of Meath and Ulster. Fitheal accepted the peace offering, glad to see that his lands had barely been touched by the conflict, while Wales and England were still bloodying each other.
A contingent of Leinster soldiers had been sent across St. George's channel to land in Wales, just in case peace was not made. They witnessed the humiliating Welsh surrender to England, in which William de Normandie's right to the Dukedom of Gwynnedd was recognized, and the territory of Powys was given over to English control.
-----------
"Wait, that's it?" exclaimed Sine angrily. "A few skirmishes and an easy surrender?"
The bard gave his gap-toothed grin. "Ah, well, I prefer not to embellish my stories, as those who are desperate for approval and extra coins often do. But don't worry, Fitheal was not done with war. Nor would everything else in his life be easy."
-----------
A few months later, Fitheal's second son was born, and this one was healthier.
Fitheal now had two cares: the realm, and Faelan. It is said that Faelan had barely stood on two feet before Fitheal pressed a wooden sword into his hand. The boy rarely cried, and was quick to laugh, delighting in people and flowers and animals and the fancy toys Fitheal had shipped from a craftsman in Zeeland. It is my belief that Fitheal loved his son so much because he was the only bridge between the human world and that of the Fair Folk; like his father, Faelan had their ichor in his veins, but he had human blood as well. He was of this world and beyond it.
Of course, such care for the realm made it flourish, and such care for the boy made him grow strong as well, but Fitheal focused on these things to the exclusion of all else. His wife grew ever more distant, and Fionnghulla, who had married his father, began to grow bitter. Her late husband might not have had the talent of his son, but Murchaid would not have started pointless wars in which Irish blood was shed, nor would he have ignored Fionnghulla in the way Fitheal ignored Ceara. She came to Fitheal's study, and asked him to change his ways.
She was gone from the castle by the morning, and the servants whispered of the Lord's screams of rage.
Fitheal's isolation grew. He played with his son, spoke with his advisers in official capacity, and exchanged terse words with the servants delivering his food. Every fortnight or so he would dine with Donal O'Brien, and they would laugh and remember what it had been like to be carefree boys. Besides Donal, his crowns were his best friends, and sometimes he would place them on a podium before him and stare at them for hours. They grew tiresome, though, so he decided to add another.
At the ceremony, there was rejoicing, and fine food served by a famous French chef. It was spring, and lovers wove flower crowns for each others' hair to mirror the burnished copper one Fitheal wore. The warmth and festivities and accolades pleased the Duke, and his mood began to improve. However, one dallying pair would bring his bile back up.
He caught his wife and his best friend lying together in a tangle of clothes, in a copse of trees near the Laigin river. He stared, his eyes empty and cold. Ceara gasped and rushed away, though her expression showed only venom, not remorse. Donal hastily pulled on his clothes, though not before Fitheal saw that his whole body was blushing. Donal stammered apologies and explanations, before rushing back to the castle.
The rumors spread quickly, but to everyone's surprise there were no shouts of anger or banishments. Donal continued in his capacity as chancellor, albeit always with a nervous twitch. Ceara continued to sit by her husband in official ceremonies. But there seemed to be something more frightening in the Duke's eyes, now. There was a deadness, a darkness, as if that strange light with which his supernatural parents had imbued him was now covered by a shade.