Song of the Karlings: Karloman's Legacy

[LPDK 356]

September 794



High Chief Unislav did not sit idle long.



The Empire was too large a target, but the Kingdom of Bavaria was weak and riven with internal discord, and King Grifo was a weak-willed man, an Imperial puppet, the most idle of Karloman’s cousins whom the Emperor had seen as a convenient vehicle for his interests in Bavaria.



That meant his kingdom was an easy target for the Bohemians.





Unislav’s conquest of much of Bavaria was done within mere weeks, the invasion overran the Kingdom’s lightly held border defenses and the unpopular Grifo failed to muster more than just a thousand and a few men to defend his position, his lords mostly remaining idle, hoping either to see him fall or to advance himself.



Unislav for his part took a conciliatory approach, promising those whom he conquered that he did not seek to strip from them their Christian God and ordering his men to avoid loot or plundering of their Churches and places of worship. Publicly, the High Chief claimed the guise of liberator, and many were prepared to see the unpopular and weak-willed Grifo fall so long as their lives did not change for the worse.



There were others however, who would not be prepared to let Bavaria fall to Paganism, and Unislav knew he would have to prepare for retaliation.





Milan, Italia.



Duke Roamaldo of Milan had grown increasingly dissatisfied with their lack of progress. With a series of increasingly fruitless arguments devolving into petty bickering and power-grabbing, it seemed none of the initiators of this plot against Karloman had any interest in actually stepping forward as the leader of a new revolt to free Italia from her foreign masters.



He had already determined that it would be him, but with one failed attempt under his past already, he knew full well acceptance would not be unquestioning.



Unless… there were ways to bind even unwilling men under a common cause, and symbols had power… The ancient iron crown of Lombardy, taken from them after the fall of Pavia to Karloman’s forces following the death of King Adelchis…



If he could only reclaim it, acquire it for Italia… and for himself. The Iron Crown was the ancestral jewel of all the Kings of Lombardy. What better way then that to provide an unbroken continuity with his new Italia to the old Kingdom of Lombardy?



But to acquire the crown was no easy task. The Duke descended into weeks of preparation, feverished, huddled discussions with his closest advisors, all of whom to a man urged him to abandon this task as a fool’s errand, but the Duke would not be dissuaded, he would locate the Crown, and then seize it to spark a new uprising.



And with the Iron Crown in his grasp, whom among the rebels lords would dare challenge his claim to be King once the war was won?



Coin changed hands and scouts rode for weeks back and forth over the Alps. Whispers, rumors, or even bribery, any scrap of information that might point to the location of the Iron Crown of Lombardy, and where Karloman had it stashed away…



Finally, he got wind of it. A well-placed bribe to a drunken sot of a guardsman led to a tall tale about a treasure vault in Reims in which the Crown was stored. It took several more weeks to confirm the tale, and once it was, the Duke dispatched a small group of his most trusted retainers to Rheims on a secret operation…





Paris, Melun. October 794.



“Report on the Italians Shalom,”



Karloman had quickly grown to like his new spymaster. Not quite as effective as Bertrada, but nobody would have been. He had a brisk, efficient way of communicating his information however, and he generally argued less than the late Queen Mother had done. His natural slyness and cunning would serve him in good stead, Karloman had told him, so long as he never deviated from his allegiance to his Emperor.



And he knew where the biggest threats were, Italia, for now, the ever restive southern flank of the Empire. Karloman knew he was heading for another confrontation with them. Had known it since Roamaldo returned, he could feel it in his bones…



But ill-news came first from the east, not the south. Bohemian pagans had struck, driving Karloman’s own Bavarian cousin into exile from his own kingdom, who fled with a few loyal sychophants (and the contents of his treasury) into Saxony. Word came that Chief Unislav had deposed Grifo and formally installed his brother Karl, a weak-willed drunkard, as his puppet King of Bavaria, guarded by Bohemian troops.

Leery of increasing Pagan influence over what remained of the Kingdom of Bavaria, Karloman prepared his armies for war…



The Italians would have to wait as foreign enemies amassed first.



OOC: The south rumbles, but the east beckons first. Can Karloman beat off this Bavarian puppet and his Bohemian masters before Italia rises up? It's a race against time.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Bohemia knows not the bear that it poked. Milan will make Pompeii seem undamaged. Duke Roamaldo is trying to get a job on the Walking Dead. Thank you for updating.

 

[LPDK 356]

Bohemia knows not the bear that it poked. Milan will make Pompeii seem undamaged. Duke Roamaldo is trying to get a job on the Walking Dead. Thank you for updating.

The question is, will Karloman be ready when it happens? If the Italians strike while his Bohemian War is ongoing, they might have more of a chance.

 

[TWR97]

Yeah I see the dastardly Italians striking while Karloman is out on his Bohemian campaign, the sheer distance alone would be enough for the rebels to join their armies and lay siege to any loyalist holdout before threatening the heartlands, and of course it's gonna be more complicated if the Iron Crown ends up in their hands.

 

[slothinator]

I've finally managed to catch up, and what a ride it's been!

That was an incredible death scene for Bertrada. It's a sad thing that she's gone and I wonder how long Karloman will last without her.
Ah, the Vikings at last. As someone who's playing in a game against a VERY successful germanic reformation, there's plenty of pain coming Francia's way.

Hahaha...

Just to let you know, I'm playing the save file about three centuries ahead of where things are right now in this AAR. If you think this will be death and destruction, wait till we get to the 11th century...

Wow! Up to the 11th century! You're in for the long haul I see!

With Bertada gone treason grows. This time it might be costly for Karloman if Shalom won't be able to maintain Bertrada's efficiency.
Concerning news from the East about Eirene's position. Pepin is a good lad but I wonder if he'll be willing to invade Constantinople for a half-brother who could easily threaten him.
If Bavaria falls permanently to the pagans, there is a risk that Germany could be the next target of a coalition.
A crown heist eh? This will be good!
With all this going on, Karloman is going to have to trust Pepin with bigger and bigger jobs

 

[LPDK 356]

795, Near Reims.



The three men slipped out of the edge of the small wood under cover of the darkness. Given the large and bright moon, it wouldn’t have taken a passer-by much effort to have seen their arrival. However, all three knew the area, and it was both quiet and so rarely traversed it might as well have been the edge of the earth.



They stopped, briefly panting from the exertion of the walk.



“Did you find it?” one hissed in Italian,



A brief nod from one of the others, “Yes,” he replied in the same language, “I confirmed the Crown is definitely present, but well-guarded.”

“You didn’t try to steal it straight away?” the third man asked shrilly, but the other two turned to shush him.



“Watch your tongue!” the first man hissed, “It was our master who sent us here, not yours. You’re just along for the ride. Cause trouble, and I’ll slice your throat and toss you in a ravine!”



The third man subsided awkwardly, muttering to himself in anger



“We’ve got time,” the second man reassured them, “It’s weeks or months till the Emperor will be bound for home after his campaign in the east, if not longer.



“I wouldn’t put much stock in the Emperor’s campaign being prolonged,” the first man replied, “When he takes to a battlefield, he’s hard to beat.”


“All the more reason then to plan carefully, so our liege can have the best chance to defeat him.”


So they all reluctantly agreed, there would be no attempt for the Crown of Lombardy tonight, but their watching and investigations continued, as they awaited their chance to snatch their prize.





Eastern Francia, War Camp of Emperor Karloman.



Six thousand men he had mustered, but for this campaign, it was among the command staff that Karloman had made the biggest changes. Pepin, his son and heir, he had left at home, to rule in his stead.



“You have a fine record in military matters,” The Emperor had told him, in response to his protests, “It’s time to see how you rule at home, after all, you’ll be doing it before long.”


Karloman’s bluntness surprised Pepin, who had tried to protest.



“Not too soon Father,” the Crown Prince replied awkwardly, “I’m sure you’ll be with us many years yet.”


“Thanks for your confidence,” The Emperor replied sardonically, “But neither you nor I know that, and if I fall on some battlefield or other, it would be good to have assurances that my realm will be in good hands.”


Left unsaid, but nevertheless clear, was that the Emperor foresaw dangerous times ahead. His warring had always been more or less successful, but he knew also that it had made him many enemies. The Eastern Pagans still roiled to take lands in Saxony or to use the crumbling Kingdom of Bavaria as a stick with which to beat the Empire, the threat from Northern pagans might become more significant any day now, and before long, Karloman knew the Moors would return to try and take back the lands he had taken, all rebellious Lombard and Italian lords circled like vultures wheeling around a new corpse. He foresaw dangerous times, and it was best to make sure his son and heir was out of harms way… and left somewhere he could keep an eye on the south, in case the Italians took his opportunity to revolt.



But Karloman found no traces of difficulty as he marched his army eastward, and by May June he was upon the borders of the Kingdom of Bavaria, or what was left of it, whereupon he found his cousin Grifo waiting for him.



He looked a sorry sight, bedraggled and battered, and he swayed upon his horse with the obvious nature of a man who had drunk far too much. Karloman’s lip curled in contempt at the sight of him, for he despised men who were too fond of the wine flagon for their own good.



“Take him down off his horse and splash water on him until he sobered up,” he commanded Grifo’s retainers, not even bothering to pay lip service to the notion that they should respond to Grifo, and not to him. “Then have him bathed, cleaned up and brought before me, since he’s the nominal King of Bavaria, It’s best to at least discuss things with him.”



This took several hours, time which Karloman used to pitch his war camp, with his usual scrupulousness, for he did not intend to give the Bohemians any opportunity for nighttime raids. He had his engineers throw up a line of staked fortifications, just in case the heathens got any ideas…



By the time Grifo had been bathed, dressed and sobered up, Karloman felt comfortable inviting his cousin to dinner.



He had never held a high opinion of Grifo, but studying him that night Karloman even felt a little pity for him. How thin he looked! Frail! Not just of body, but of intellect and spirit. He was not cut out to be King of a Saxon hamlet, let alone to rule Bavaria,



It is as I feared, the Emperor thought, I cannot simply restore him to his old place. The vultures that circle Bavaria will have him off his throne again in a week. A new candidate is needed.



He concealed this decision between the usual familial courtesy, and even allowed Grifo to excuse himself, pleading the need for an early sleep due to the aftereffects of his drink. Karloman knew full well that it was mainly that his cousin felt shamed by his fall, and did not wish to face him as anything less than a monarch in his own right.



Well too bad for you! You had your chance! I’ll find someone else, the Emperor thought, a trifle spitefully. It had been Grifo’s job to rule Bavaria in order to keep the eastern flank of Karloman’s empire secured. Instead he had steadily lost land to the heathen Pagans, and been deposed by his own subjects. Not a happy ending to the story of when Karloman had first given his blessing to place him on the throne in the first place…



Melun, Paris.



“Maurice, away from there!” Pepin called out to his second son, laughing.



“My brother is there!” The young boy called out, pointing out his elder brother, Renaud, about ten metres away, playing on the edge of the field.



“Well tell him to come back too!” Elodie chortled, smiling as well.



She looked, her besotted husband thought, stunning. The birth of several children had not brought about a degradation in her looks, in fact, motherhood seemed to agree with her entirely.



Which was fortunate, for they had several children now in their growing family. The eldest two, the brothers Renaud and Maurice, were inseparable. When Maurice was asked by one of his tutors whom it was he loved most, he answered “My older brother.”

When pressed by the tutor to answer whether or not he also loved his father and mother, Maurice merely repeated, “I love my brother!” in a way that those around him found both unendurably stubborn and irresistibly charming.



Renaud, for his part, reciprocated, playing with his brother, ensuring he took lessons alongside himself, and even insisting that he be permitted to sit at the high table with mother and father… a privilege that Pepin had intended only to be reserved for his eldest son and heir, but had relented upon seeing his son’s insistence. If one had asked Renaud whom he loved the most, he would’ve said it was his brother Maurice.



It was the third son, Karloman, who was the quietest of the three. A peaceful boy, of a restful, placid disposition. He had taken to his reading lessons quicker than the older two boys, but needed coaxing outside to do riding or swordplay, despite his father’s best efforts. Though Elodie seemed most attached to him, Pepin for his part had trouble understanding a child with so little interest in martial pursuits. Unseemly, he said, for a child of such breeding and station to care more for books than war.



And the newest addition, Loup, the infant. For him, Pepin as yet had little knowledge, for he had barely seen the boy until his father had left him at home for the coming campaign. He would be surprised if the child even knew his father’s face…



“Hopefully your father leaves us alone more often,” Elodie told him with a smile. “It has been good for the children to see you… and you to see them.”



A more vain man might have read an implied criticism in her words, but Pepin just smiled, “Aye love, it has been good.” Yet part of his mind wandered restlessly, in the fields of Bavaria to the east… almost as though he could see an army stretched out before his eyes…





Bavaria,

Emperor Karloman could see the army stretched out before his eyes. A pitiful showing really, he had thought with some bemusement. The Bavarians internal troubles had not been kind to their defense, and their depleted ranks would serve them no better against Karloman’s Christian troops than it had against the Bohemian heathens to the east. It hadn’t taken them too long to assemble all things considered, but he’d still managed to sack three border towns before they had.



A brief glance at them showed more a mob than an army, unrurly serfs pressed into sudden service, not trained and disciplined men of the sort the Empire could field. That was of course the perils of such a such kingdom having had such frequent wars. Too many experienced men were dead.


The Battle of Kempten, as it came to be known, proved swift. Karloman had won within twenty minutes on the morning of June 19th 795, and barely a dozen Frankish men in the whole army were felled or wounded before the Bavarians and their pretender King had broken, in full flight.





The only question Karloman had now was… who would he pick to replace him?


OOC: Bavaria is so laughably weak and pathetic at this point I didn't even bother going into too much depth. It's lost three consecutive foreign wars to Bohemia and Moravia, had two civil wars in the past five years... and is presently being invaded both by Karloman and by an army of a single claimant (who is yet to arrive, but will turn up soon).

Honestly not much of a war, but the Italian front is getting more interesting, as is Pepin's family life! Four children now, all sons. Things will probably lead to a smooth succession for Pepin himself... but what about when Pepin goes and he has multiple male children? That didn't go well for the Carolingians historically, so we'll see if they fare better here.

 

[LPDK 356]

I've finally managed to catch up, and what a ride it's been!

That was an incredible death scene for Bertrada. It's a sad thing that she's gone and I wonder how long Karloman will last without her.
Ah, the Vikings at last. As someone who's playing in a game against a VERY successful germanic reformation, there's plenty of pain coming Francia's way.


Wow! Up to the 11th century! You're in for the long haul I see!

With Bertada gone treason grows. This time it might be costly for Karloman if Shalom won't be able to maintain Bertrada's efficiency.
Concerning news from the East about Eirene's position. Pepin is a good lad but I wonder if he'll be willing to invade Constantinople for a half-brother who could easily threaten him.
If Bavaria falls permanently to the pagans, there is a risk that Germany could be the next target of a coalition.
A crown heist eh? This will be good!
With all this going on, Karloman is going to have to trust Pepin with bigger and bigger jobs

@slothinator

Thanks so much for the compliments! Your support means much, as always

The Bertrada death scene is one I agonised over for days, I reckon I re-wrote it three times before I was happy with it. How do you send off a character like that properly? I kind of debated having an almost kind of deathbed reconciliation with Karloman but on trying to write it it really didn't feel like it fit the character. Bertrada's not the type to do it and Karloman's too stubborn, so between the two of them I settled it on more of a grudingly respectful but still antagonistic end. Sometimes we don't get to say the things we should... and Karloman feels like the kind of guy who wouldn't take the chance when he should, especially given how messed up his whole family relationship has been for years. The fact that you thought it was worthwhile makes me feel better about it too!

The Vikings have started... but only started. It may be Pepin, more than Karloman, who really has to deal with them.


Eirene is still holding on in the east, but whether she crushes the rebellion or not will decide the future of the Eastern Empire, and whether the Iconoclasts regain power or basically die out.

 

[TWR97]

One thing you always notice when it comes to heist stories is that the plan ALWAYS fails minutes into the operation, hopefully this is the case, would be a damn shame if the Crown is indeed taken, especially since it looks like Karloman is gonna have his hands full keeping the empire's borders secured. Bad enough to worry about the enemies outside of the realm, now the enemy within is growing steadily too. Glad to see Pepin seems to be enjoying his time with his four sons (Yeah that is DEFINITELY gonna be a factor in the future), may it stay that way. But then again, this is the Carolingian dynasty, familial problems are gonna occur eventually, especially the foreshadowing you've been giving us.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Perfect family planning would be an heir and a spare with a passel of girls to marry diplomatically. Pepin has many problems on the horizon. The Italians will be their own worst enemy. Thank you for updating

 

[LPDK 356]

Perfect family planning would be an heir and a spare with a passel of girls to marry diplomatically. Pepin has many problems on the horizon. The Italians will be their own worst enemy. Thank you for updating

Too many sons and no daughters yet. When has that ever ended poorly for a dynasty?


The elder two seem fond of each other though...

 

[slothinator]

I like the dynamic forming in Pepin's family. I can foresee some division arising between the Maurice-Renaud pair and the new Karloman. As for Loup...time will tell.
I'm wondering how that will factor in with an eventual succession. Will the empire survive (as it often does in CK2) or will we get a more permanent split and a new empire later on.
With Bavaria giving such a poor show, I wonder who will be their new king. Nobody immediately comes to mind but I'm curious to find out!

 

[LPDK 356]

Bavaria,

It took Karloman little effort to hide his plan to depose his cousin from Grifo, former King of Bavaria. Grifo had never had much talent for diplomacy or intrigue and now, in his shrunken and diminished state, he seemed to spend most days in a stupor, barely knowing where he was, let alone whether he would be restored to his throne.



Fortunately, it had taken the Emperor only a few days to find a candidate who suited his requirements. Bavaria could not be left to its own devices, not again. He had been too distracted by concerns elsewhere to pay the floundering realm the attention it had required, and the Emperor intended to remedy that now.



The choice he settled upon was Eginolf Agiolofing. A grandson of King Odilo I of Bavaria, and one of the minor officers accompanying the army. Karloman had him summoned to his war tent.



The lad was young, barely in his mid-twenties, but already he had a bushy black beard, and a lean frame. A keen intelligence glinted in his dark eyes, as well as a surprising touch of mirth.



“You know why you’re here?” Karloman asked, knowing full well Eginolf had been briefed by his officers.

“Yes. I must say, it’s an unexpected surprise sovereign.”


“Not that unexpected,” Karloman replied, “I have so few other credible candidates to assume rule over Bavaria after this campaign is done.”

“There’s your own cousin, the former King Grifo.”


Karloman smiled, “As I said credible candidates. Grifo has proven himself wanting in that role. The lords shan’t follow him, and he is in any event too weak to hold the throne. You, from what I’ve heard, are not such a fellow.”

“Truthfully, Emperor I am not.” Eginolf replied with a smile, “Though I assume you’ll be wanting a price for such overt generosity as placing me upon a throne?”

“You assume correctly,” Karloman told him, rising to his feet. “I shall require an oath of fealty from you, that the Kingdom of Bavaria shall be a vassal state in service to the Empire, and pledge to faithfully and truly guard it’s eastern frontier from attack.”

“If you consent to allow me self-government beyond those terms, I agree,” Eginolf replied after barely a moment’s thought.



“Smart man!” Karloman grinned approvingly, “You aren’t a fool like my poor, stupid cousin. It seems I chose well. Ah well, never mind, it does seem we’ll have to wait a bit first though. The old king Tassilo marches to Bavaria with an army of sellswords, seeking to take his crown. My scouts have spotted them roughly five days march to the south.”

“You intend to let me face them then?”

“God’s blood no!” Karloman exclaimed. “Capable though you are, Bavaria’s army at present cannot protect itself against another would-be usurper with an army. No, have no fear, King Eginolf, my army will remain here to help you crush the would-be usurper, and only then do I mean to leave to allow you to govern freely. I have spent too many years distracted by other issues elsewhere to shore up the eastern flank of my Empire. Now I am here, I intend to tidy things up properly.”

“I agree, lord,” Eginolf smiled, “A sensible decision.”

“I’m pleased, you may go,” Karloman replied levelly.





And with that, the Emperor dug his forces into an entrenched encampment outside the Bavarian capital and waited for any sign of Tassilo’s forces…





Rheims, Francia.

They planned it meticulously. The two guards were paid to be absent from their post outside the front gates enabling the first man to take his place inside the fortress. Within a few hours, he had the rope and the grapple, and it was then, in the dead of the night, that he launched it down off the edge of the walls of the fortress.



His two fellows climbed their way up in near complete silence. One loud thump as the third man hit his boot upon the wall forced them to remain in a terrified silence for several long minutes…



But no alarms were raised, no shouts were heard, no armed guards came running to arrest or slay them, so they continued.



They were over the walls, and into the fortress. Within a few silent minutes of easing down the ramparts, they managed to break the lock of the storeroom and acquire some spare equipment.



“Now we’ll blend in,” the third fellow grinned.



“Shut up.” His compatriot told him swiftly, grinding his teeth, the nerves were beginning to bite at him.



They moved in relative silence then, passed through a corridor, past a room of sleeping guards. When they reached the storeroom, the third man reached down beside the door, where a chair was sat…



He fumbled around under it for a few moments before his fingers emerged… jangling a small metal object.



“Right where they said they’d leave it,” he grinned, “This should open the vault.”

“Hurry then.”


The three of men progressed quietly, but surely. It was near to one hour past midnight when they arrived before the door for which they had been searching.



The lock broke under the weight of the small metal device, and the three men winced as the rusty hinge squeaked and creaked loudly as the heavy door was pushed open…



The crown was not difficult to find, stashed away in a display corner. The Iron Crown of Lombardy beckoned its new masters.





The thieves carefully wrapped it into their bags, fully aware of the magnitude of their prize. But the third one also stashed several other items away into the folds of his coat,

“Insurance,” he told his curious friends, but did not elaborate further.



“Fine,” the first man grunted.



They left then in secret, well aware that they were now loaded down with more gear then when they started.



They had made it to the battlements when things went wrong…



The third man swore as shouts were raised from the tower.



“Get going!” he hissed at his fellows as they hurried their way towards their exit…



A small postern gate had opened for them, they heard the shouts, and the sound of a bell…





The three were outside the postern gate by the time armed guards rushed out to meet them, but they had only minutes to spare to make their getaway, and they knew it. Somehow, without needing to speak to one another, they all decided to run…



They reached a small inlet on the paved road, barely a mile or so north, panting with exertion and fatigue. The sound of a soft nicker greeted them from further up ahead. Peering into the darkness, they made out the shape of a horse.



“Well done!” a voice came to them.



The second man glared at the new arrival who had spoken, standing near the tethered horse. “Shut up, we nearly died in there. We need to go,” he heaved a huge wracking cough, and then gazed up at the horse.



“Where are the others?”


“Others?” the new arrival asked, “What others?”


“God’s blood what fool are you, the other horses man!” the second man yelled hoarsely, “There’s three of us, and you’ve brought one horse.”


The fourth men seemed to start for a moment, and then stepped towards them. He wore a dark grey cowl over his head, but the second man saw his face now, a cruel smirk drifting across an ugly, pockmarked face.



“Oh dear me,” he grinned, “So I did.” He dropped his voice to a dangerous low. “My mistake.”


Then before the second man could move, or even react, the new arrival had brought forth a dagger into his hand and plunged it into the second fellow’s threat. A bloodied gargle in place of a cry was the only sound he made.



And it was here that the third man grabbed the first’s man by the neck, “Wha-“ his companion began to say, before the sound was cut off by the snapping of his neck. He fell down, more or less dead.



The whole thing had been over in barely a second or two.


“You have the chalices?”


“Yes,” the third man replied, his breath now beginning to return now the deed is done.



“Good, pack them onto the bodies there and move them down onto the roadside. With luck, they’ll recover the chalices and think that’s all that was stolen. By the time they realise, you’ll be back in Italia.”

“A damned shame the crown won’t be going where they thought.”


“A damned shame indeed,” the cowled man grinned. “It’s too valuable for that. But nevertheless, I brought the horse, as promised.”

“I appreciate it, and my master will reward you appropriately,” the third man replied, smiling for the first time that morning.



OOC: Someone has the crown... but whom? And Bavaria will have a new king assuming Karloman's army can defeat the adventuring force under the former King Tassilo. But will Italia explode before he has a chance to prepare?

 

[TWR97]

Oh fug another faction has the crown now? That doesn't look good at all, sure it's still tragic if it ended with the Italians but this new faction is an unknown factor compared to the Italians whom Karloman and we the audience are familiar with.

 

[LPDK 356]

Oh fug another faction has the crown now? That doesn't look good at all, sure it's still tragic if it ended with the Italians but this new faction is an unknown factor compared to the Italians whom Karloman and we the audience are familiar with.

It may still be an Italian... Just maybe not who we were expecting...

 

[slothinator]

Bavaria will be a good addition to the empire; Eginolf will have to be capable to deal with an Eastern border so threatened by pagan barbarians.
Oh, very interesting to see the crown's journey! Might it be that the duke of Benevento was not so loyal after all?

 

[Midnite Duke]

The more players in Italy will make it easier for Karloman to divide and conquer. The new King of Bavaria seems smart enough to let Karloman do the heavy lifting before he reaps the rewards. Thank you for updating

 

[LPDK 356]

Bavaria, June 795.

Tassilo’s army had formed up in battle lines, correctly believing that it was most likely that the Franks would be willing to meet them head-on in a pitched battle.



He had guessed correctly, as Karloman’s forces had drawn up for battle east of Ingolstadt.



The Frankish left had been reinforced by sellswords and pikemen, whom Karloman had specifically deployed to counteract Tassilo’s cavalry heavy army. But on the right, the Emperor had thinned out his ranks along the muggy and swampish flank in order to plump out his centre, which had borne the brunt of the previous engagements.



It was there that Tassilo saw his chance. As his skirmishers advanced to harry and harass the Frankish centre, ordered to make as much noise as possible.

The would-be King dispatched perhaps several hundred of his men to creep through the bog. A thick fog had rolled in over the battle site in the early morning, and this helped to conceal their approach.



The shouts from the Frankish right when the attack came were drowned out for some minutes, as Tassilo’s surprise strike through the bog that Karloman believed had protected his right from an assault almost crumbled the Frankish flank.



It was some ten minutes before a runner got word to the Emperor of what was happening. Quickly delegating command of his centre, Karloman and his cavalry guard swiftly rode to reinforce the right.



They found chaos, and a buckling frontline. Drawing his blade, the Emperor plunged himself into the fray with reckless abandon, blade flashing.



“To me!” he cried, “To me!” “Rally to your Emperor!”



Some of the nearest men heard him over the din of battle, and slowly but surely they began to coalesce around his position. Tassilo had poured hundreds of men into the breach, but now the Frankish right had begun to stiffen it’s resolve, and just barely… it held.



Believing he needed a quick victory, and trusting onto the lap of God, Tassilo ordered his centre forward. Either his assault on the Frankish right had worked, and he would carry the day, or it had failed, and he would end the day dead or captured.



Sadly for him, neither the Frankish left nor centre faced anywhere near the calamity that had nearly befallen the right. They held firm, and after half an hour of bitter fighting, it was the Frankish centre that began to advance, and the forces of Tassilo routed.



Two hours of bitter slaughter followed, as the Frankish commanders gave orders to leave no quarter, lest the usurper’s men regroup. After the battle, a mud and blood-stained Karloman gave orders for the men to find the usurper, or his corpse. It was eventually discovered near a ravine, were a small van of fleeing enemies had coalesced around Tassilo during the rout, and had died defending him from the onrushing Frankish horde.





Though it had not been his neatest or greatest victory, Karloman had won the day. The would-be usurper was dead, and Bavaria was firmly in the hands of it’s new King, to be safely sequestered under the protective arm of the Empire.





Ravenna, Italia.



Duke Roamaldo had grown increasingly unnerved on hearing no word from his small troop of soldiers he had sent north. Word had arrived through the small amounts of news that could be collected through bribes paid that the imperial treasurey at Rheims had been broken into, but no word had arrived from his men, and no sign of their prize, the Iron Crown.



But the rebellion moved closer to it’s outright beginning day by day. Lords chomped at the bit for action, and a generation of new men had grown up in their fields and villages under Frankish rule, itching now to have a chance to take their vengeance upon their savage conquerors. The whole of northern Italia was churning and bubbling, and everyone knew it. They could feel it, and the feeling made them nervous.



And none more nervous than Roamaldo, the crown was nowhere to be found, his plan to claim the throne supported by the ancient symbol of it’s legitimacy was gone with it.



“My lords, we must move to strike within the next few days, Karloman’s war in the east is won. The Emperor shall not linger long, he knows there is trouble brewing.”


Roamaldo’s head snapped up, “How? How does he know? And what makes you think he does?”


The Count of Pavia shook his head, “Karloman’s spymaster knows what you had for breakfast three days ago. If you think the old witch shuffled off the mortal coil without leaving her son a fitting replacement before she went down to hell, think again.”





“Well then the question remains as to who leads us,” Roamaldo prompted, “For I do not intend to place my armies under the command of anyone but myself.”


Count Pavia shot him a dirty sideways glance, “I was about to demand the same,”


“Oh well, I guess we can all just run our own separate smaller rebellions and then each fight Karloman individually!” the Count of Firenze threw up his hands in exasperation and glowered at Roamaldo, “This is all for your own greater glory to you isn’t it? No thought for the future of a free Italia?”



Roamaldo was unmoved. “If you don’t want me, I can go home and take my armies with me, and I’ll let Karloman know of your plans for good measure.”

An empty threat of course, but they could do nothing about it. His holdings were the richest and his title the grandest of all the assembled lords. Without him, any rebellion would fail, and they knew it.

“In any event, bad idea to put the horse before the cart,” The Count Pavia spoke, “The issue of kingship can be sorted for sure after we have beaten off our enemy, in the meantime, it’s best to discuss our plans for the coming war.”


And give me time to find that blasted crown, Roamaldo thought, but he said nothing, merely nodding. “I agree, the plans for the war come first.”



They then settled their plans, the signal for the revolt would be the first strike, a group of Frankish traders who were quarted in a large inn in the market square in Pavia. Then the news would spread through Italia. The Duke of Milan would raise his forces and begin to guard the Alpine passes to block any Frankish army from marching south. The Counts Firenze and Pavia would join their forces together to attack any remaining lord who refused to join the rebel armies, either forcing them to submit or destroying those who resisted. Count. Theodorich, Duke of Friuli, would attack the lands of the child Duchess of Verona, bringing her under the power of the rebels, whilst the Countess of Ancona would be tasked with attacking the borders of the Duke of Benevento, the most powerful lord in Italia who remained loyal to the dominion of the Franks.



With the major lords in open revolt, and the Alpine passes defended sufficiently to defeat the Franks, the rebels believed that Karloman could be forced to negotiate, a free and independent Kingdom of Italia would rise once again on the peninsula, and this time, it would not fall to the Franks as it did when King Adelchis had let himself be trapped and destroyed by the Frankish force by his own folly...



OOC: Next up, the rebellion begins...

 

[Midnite Duke]

The man, who believes that Karloman will negotiate, has never met the man. Thank you for updating

 

[LPDK 356]

The man, who believes that Karloman will negotiate, has never met the man. Thank you for updating

If he can't get his army through the Alps, it won't be a matter of choice for him.

That said, Karloman isn't an opponent to take lightly either, so it won't be simple for the Italians. If there's one thing he's good at, it's war.

 

[slothinator]

I expect that this Italian rebellion will probably be brought down by its own infighting. As for the crown...if no Italian has raised the point so far, I can't imagine who has it in their possession now