Suenik Reloaded

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 37 - WAR, WAR, GLORIOUS WAR!
(1225-1226)​

Ah!

The clash of iron on wood!

The hum of arrows!

The screams of the dying!

All part of the rich symphony of war.

I bloody LOVE IT.

It seems too, that my new found best friend - the extremely manly, robust, handsome and strong King Khankhusy of Alania - is having a little war all of his own and he's absolutely, positively, one hundred percent-ly cementing his "manliest man of the year" credentials.

Yes. My new strong, rugged and chiseled friend is taking what is rightfully his...FROM THE MONGOLS.

I am seriously impressed. If I wasn't so busy fighting a war against the good people of Kartli I'd ride to his castle, sweep him into my arms and offer my congratulations myself.

Buoyed by this thought, and delighting in the Kartli infantry who are beating a hasty retreat from my forces, I roar "SUENIK - FOREVER!" and rear up on Toros before booming "ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE FOR MY CHAMPIONS!"

Spoiler: WHAT'S WITH THE WINE?

I'm not actually making up this whole "pomegranate wine" business. Armenia is one of THE oldest wine producing regions in the world. They've been churning out vino for at least six millenia according to the archaeological record! Pomegranate wine is a semi-sweet wine that is a speciality of one of the Armenian wine regions. Sadly, it's not from Syunik. In fact, in a real world tie in that has amused me, while the rest of Armenia's wine regions produce a variety of different, delicious, unique and distinctive wines, Syunik makes vodka. Perhaps a little bit of this AAR and its predecessor have leaked into the real world, and the good people of Syunik have decided "Wine won't cut it - we need a proper drink to drown out the misery."

Anyway, as an old Armeian saying goes "The veins of the country flow with wine."

Who said this AAR was just pithy nonsense and not educational in the slightest? And you can trust me on matters wine-related. During lockdown my wife and I decided to actually turn our growing alcoholism into something useful (IE to justify our drinking): https://www.wsetglobal.com/qualifications/wset-level-1-award-in-wines/

A hearty and robust cheer goes up from my men, to which I vault from Toros' back and stride towards my tent. En route, I'm met by my steward who informs me that delivery of the barrels of pomegranate wine might be slightly delayed.

I fix him a stare and ask - nay demand! - to know why.

He looks nervously from side to side, then at his feet, which he shuffles nervously. Finally, he peers up at me and says "Er...because we're flat broke?"

Seeing my expression he tries - diplomatically - to explain to me that maybe mobilising my entire host and that of my vassals to crush the relatively small Kartlian forces was not the most prudent step, but I wave him away with a "Pff" noise.

The solution to this problem is so obvious, I can't believe my so-called steward didn't think of it.

I'll simply ask Boy-Toros for a loan.

He is my son and heir after all. I gave him a lovely, draughty holiday home to look after, so he should be more than happy to help his old man out with a few trifling cellars worth of delicious pomegranate wine.

Ah.

Clearly he's still salty about the whole Christening business.

Now, I know what you're all thinking - this being Suenik means that this is going to be the point where Artashes is going to do something mental like try to arrest his own son, who is going to die in prison and the whole inheritance is going to be ruined. The kingdom is then going to descend into aeons of civil war and then the Mongols are going to finish off what is left.

Nonsense.

I'm not stupid you know.

Besides, the fates have aligned and have given me the most opportune way to pay back Boy Toros.

You see, while this whole "oh please can you help your hardworking father out with some money for his thirsty troops" business was going on, Duke Sarkis, convinced that my distraction with war would mean that I would turn a blind eye to his on-brand nonsense, decides to make a break for it.

I divert a couple of small armies, and then home in on him whilst he's busy lobbing rocks at Boy Toros' castle. Perhaps that will teach the ungrateful brat the value of a loving father?

Thankfully, it is over quickly and (relatively) painlessly.

For me anyway.

As I am watching a wriggling Sarkis being hauled off to jail, I feel a tug at my elbow. Standing there is lovely, doe-eyed Kyriake. For those of you keeping up, she's my...well, I'm actually not sure I'm keeping up either...let's say she's my seventh lover.

I think.

It's hard to tell.

It's such a blur these days.

So many different bed chambers, stables and tents...

She smiles that beautiful smile of hers, and indicates that I should bend over so that she can whisper something to me. I know where this is going. Women just can't resist a hot, sweaty man after he's indulged in a bit of rebellion crushing. I kneel beside her ready to hear the absolute filthy drip huskily from her lips...

How predictable.

What can I say, though? I'm just a rampaging supernova of virility. I swear, sometimes all it takes is a smile from me and - BOOM! - a lady is suddenly with child! Kyriake is still looking at me, waiting for a response, so I place an arm around her shoulder, tussle her hair, laugh lightly and shout "GOOD MAN!" before striding off after the guards. There's a little bit of business I need to conduct with Sarkis.

The man's a complete arse, so his titles are toast. Then, after taking these and locking him away, I send for Boy Toros. He turns up a few hours later, covered in plaster and dust - clearly Sarkis' trebuchets were more accurate than I thought.

I grin.

He starts to stammer about the money but I wave my hand, hug him and give him the good news.

Yup. He's now chief of the horse folks! In fact, I also make him HIGH CHIEF of the desolte-horsey-hinterlands. With a hearty laugh, a "GOOD MAN!" and a slap on the back, I stride out of the dungeon and back to Horse Toros who is waiting patiently in the courtyard. Before I can mount up, there's a fanfare of trumpets, and a herald breathlessly - and giddily - announces that Kartli has capitulated.

I plant my fists on my hips, turn my gaze to the southwest - so that the sun catches my profile heroically, obviously - and roar "SADDLE MY HORSE! WE RIDE FOR TREBIZOND!"

The cheers are so loud I don't hear the inevitable smart arse pointing out that Horse Toros already has his saddle on.

Will Artashes' good fortune continue? How will Boy Toros fare amongst the nomads? What of Kyriake's baby? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 38 - THIS IS PROPER HEADGEAR
(1226-1229)​

Now, I know I'm often fond of yelling things like "SADDLE MY HORSE I RIDE FOR yadayadayada..." but most of the time, that's just for show. I mean, I COULD ride for Trebizond, but I'd sadly be on my own and, mighty and virile as I am, even I can't take on a whole army by myself.

Actually; maybe if Marshal Smarty-Pants had got that armoured chariot contraption working I could, but that's by the by.

No, before we ride for anywhere there are sadly months of very boring logistical organisation to go through.

My steward loves this sort of thing - when it comes to counting stacks of arrows, bushels of fodder and racks of spears he comes over all giddy and girly.

Me though? I'm a man of action, a man of war - the preparation puts my on edge, but when the bean-counting is done, and we're ready to march into battle, I stop pacing pensively and I start to glow like the radiant sun itself.

A bit like Kyriake is glowing just now.

It's sweet she's come to see me on the eve of battle. I wonder if she's come to wish me good luck?

Wait...

What's that she's got with her?

Oh.

It appears that we're not playing the "Oh gosh - a baby? Where could that have come from?" game any more. Kyriake - as an unmarried lady - is telling everyone that little Anna is mine.

From up in the royal apartments I can hear my wife roaring like a wounded bear. Maybe she's...I don't know, happy? Women like babies, right?

The cry of "I'LL GELD HIM LIKE A BLOODY DOG!" suggests that my appraisal of the situation was slightly wide of the mark.

Bollocks to this.

I pat Anna on the head, whisper "GOOD MAN!", mount Toros and yell "TO TREBIZOND!" before tearing from the courtyard at a rate of knots.

Several weeks later and my vanguard are closing in on one of their armies. However, I know that the people of Trebizond are hardy and proud, with well-developed fortresses, which are situated in rugged mountain terrain. Although my army win a victory here, this is but one battle. With any luck, this conflict will drag on for a couple of years, and by the time I come back - as a conquering hero no less - my wife will have forgotten that little fuss over baby Anna.

Probably.

Wait.

Why is everyone cheering so loudly?

Wait - they can't have...

Oh.

I guess that's that then...

Hastily, I summon my advisors, and ask if there are any other wars we could prosecute in the mean time. After all, it seems a shame to have got all the chaps together like this, and have nowhere to conquer.

Sadly though, it seems like the rest of the world are telling me that I need to go back home and face the music.

After an absolute verbal beating from my wife, and much throwing of assorted crockery, I decide that a present is in order.

I then pass the months in seclusion, tending to the affairs of state. Oddly enough, it seems like my opportunistic mauling of weaker neighbours has pretty much cemented my position as "saviour of Christen Armenia and Georgia" in the eyes of some neighbouring states.

I also set about reorganising the realm. First up, I give Toros a proper title to go with his hat.

I also give one of the "can I tell you how amazing the Orthodox faith is?" Greeks the Duchy of Trebizond - hopefully being amongst his own kind will mean he stops annoying me with his incessant chattering about the key differences between our faiths and why his is better. To be honest, it's all men with big beards and incense as far as I'm concerned.

After the tiresome business of swearing in new Dukes is concluded (complete with said bearded men, incense and the endless, endless chanting...) I decide to check in on my best friend. I can't wait for him to regale me with tales of derring do, and of how he crushed the Mongols and sent them home with their tails between their legs! After a couple of months and no answer, I send some messengers north, but they return with devastating news.

My pained cries can be heard throughout the palace.

On the plus side, it appears the grief can be very attractive to some women.

Slightly worried about sharing a much longer border with the Mongols, I set about throwing myself into a deep study of strategy. I don't know what's scarier - the prospect of hordes of horsemen bearing down on Suenik, or that reoccurring dream I have where I'm hiding in a pen of livestock and my wife is coming after me with a wickedly, curved and stupidly sharp blade...

Fate seems intent on testing this theory...

Thankfully, my trusty smith comes to my rescue and I present my wife with THE most amazing piece of headgear, complete with a lovely ruby sceptre.

Thankfully, she's howlingly materialistic, so I get a huge hug and a lot of high pitched screeches. Pretty sure that means I'm off the hook. I'm going to learn from this - I can't honestly keep getting into situations like this. I celebrate my new found wisdom with some delicious wine. A LOT of delicious wine - after all, with my new found view on life I've earned this.

Not having the funds to keep paying for bespoke jewellery over and over again, I decide that I need some time out of the castle. On one hand, my newly minted Duke of Trebizond is proving about as loyal as an Orthodox obsessed lunatic could expect to be (and Toros, just because you've taken your hat off, don't think I don't see you cosying up to Ioannes)...

...on the other, there are some peasants who have got uppity.

Trebizond can wait. Butchering a bunch of goat herders can hopefully dispel some of the livestock related nightmares I've been having. I send my retinue after them whilst I consult with my spy master about what to do about Trebizond.

Oh come on. You're knights of Suenik and you've lost to a bunch of smelly goat people? Really?

I guess I'm simply going to have to put all my new strategic planning into practice.

Interestingly, although peasants don't have they most varied vocabulary, a group of them in the Duchy of Tao learn the meaning of the word "overkill" this very day.

As my men are putting the last thatched hut to the torch, I receive exciting news.

Apparently I'm no longer considered an unstable menace...

Now - what other reasons can I find to avoid going back to the castle?

Will Artashes ever return home? Where is he planning to visit next? Is the queen still sharpening her gelding knife? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 39 - I FEEL JUST GRAND, THANKS FOR ASKING
(1229-1232)​

It's a great time to be alive.

My 60th birthday is just around the corner, along with the much vaunted celebrations of forty years of my wise and beneficent rule.

In fact, it's not just the good people of Suenik that think I am amazing. Why, words of my glorious deeds (not to mention caravans full of gifts) have been spreading all over Armenia, and the general consensus is that I am just THE BEST.

See? "Most excellent" - you can't argue with that.

However, my delight at hordes of adoring people in the streets chanting things like "Arty is a smarty" (and other such phrases) is tempered slightly by the situation at home.

You see...Kyriake might have kind of got herself with child.

Again.

Yes - I may have been involved somewhere in the proceedings.

The end result of this is that I'm visiting her and having her promise that she will not tell anyone about "the fruit of our love" whilst also keeping Queen Eugenia afloat on a sea of precious stones. Purely because she's the light of my life and deserves it you understand...

I also let her prance around with those terrifying large white birds that she seems to find so endearing. She seemed delighted by this and whispered that she would have them trained in no time.

Sadly, this being Suenik, Kyriake - she of the "'tis a tragedy, but our love shall be hidden under a bushel for ever" does exactly what she did last bloody time and tells all and sundry about "the fruit of our love".

At this rate the swans will be wearing necklaces made of precious stones and the kingdom will be bankrupt. I also wonder, with some trepidation, exactly what my wife is training them to do.

Never the less, women trouble aside, things are going well. Brilliantly in fact. If I could, I'd slap myself on the back and roar "GOOD MAN". In fact...urgh...I feel terrible...

Maybe it was all that pomegranate wine? I have been overdoing it a bit recently what with all the stress of living a complete lie and juggling veritable hordes of women...

Thankfully, the royal doctor Vachagan proves to be a complete trooper and *wink wink* prescribes for me "lots of long walks in the wilderness alone".

Ha!

That'll buy me some time away from the wife and her swan army.

Wait.

Hang on a minute....

What was it you said I had, Vachagan?

The GREAT pox?

I'm no physician, but I'm pretty sure the "great" in "great" pox isn't great in the sense of "great for your health".

Sure enough, my amazing insight proves...er...insightful.

Any lectures about cause and causality will result in a quick trip to the piraña pools...

Nevertheless, I have not come this far to be undone by a trifling disease. I am Artashes - expander of kingdoms and really quite popular with my neighbours (not to mention "mighty stallion of Suenik"). I go to Vachagan, put an arm around his shoulders and encourage him to sort out this piffling disease.

The mad glint in his eyes suggests that he knows exactly what to do, so I slap him on the back, yell "GOOD MAN" and go off to get royally trousered on pomegranate wine before the operation.

Now, in fairness, a few hours later, lying on the operating table, I'm not feeling at my most confident - even with enough wine in me to knock a regiment of Suenik's finest off their feet. It might be the lines of chanting, bearded priests with the sickly, sweet incense, or it might be the fact that Vachagan is dressed as a nun, wielding a couple of cleavers and asking the Good Lord to "bless these instruments of healing". I'm about to slur "I'm actually feeling a lot better" when there's a sharp bonk on my head and I pass out. When I awaken, I notice that the treatment has had noticeable results...

NAMELY I'M MISSING A BLOODY HAND!!!!

How...?

Why...?

I'm meant to be a war leader - a champion amongst men... What am I meant to do now?

Vachagan beams at me, waves with my severed hand, and says that he believes that the disease is now "in remission". I manage a croaked "gOod MaN..." before passing out from the pain.

A few weeks of recovery later, and I decide that it's about time - forty years into the gig - that I took my responsibilities as a leader seriously.

First things first - and this has VERY LITTLE to do with the fact that I feel like a shattered husk of a man who is barely clinging onto life - I order some fairly major construction.

It's about time I was known for more than just my amazing prowess in battle (long since gone along with my hand) and my way with the ladies (unlikely now that the whole "pox" business is out in the open).

I sit down with my marshal and have some serious discussions about what we can do to deal with banditry.

To think - even a few months ago that would be ME dealing with the bandits, as I charged out on Toros to run the filthy scum into the dirt from which they crawled.

I'm so down in the dumps, I can't even manage anything other than a cursory "good man" to the messenger who brings me some fairly hilarious news.

Even the newly redrawn maps don't cheer me up.

Despite all of this, Kyriake proves to be a source of constant comfort in these dark times...

...and, predictably, the two most fertile people in Suenik colliding, has the results you'd expect.

Clearly she's not heard the "pox" rumours. Either that, or she's banking on the fact that I'll one day legitimise one of my many bastards and one of the little sods will have a chance at the throne.

You've got to admire dedication to duty like that.

Speaking of little sods, one of my commanders is proving to be a source of annoyance. Now that *I* can't lead my troops into battle, he's been marching around the parade grounds like king of the hill, bragging about how *HE* is now Suenik's champion.

I call him in and tell him that because of all of this - his "service to the kingdom" I call it with a wry smirk - he's going to be Suenik's latest ambassador to China.

In return, I secure a very sweet trade deal with the Yuan Empire.

Hey! Maybe I AM good at more than just warfare and setting the ladies' hearts racing?

No - I'm not sure where that skull turned up from either, but this IS Suenik after all...

Whose is the skull? Will the kingdom continue to flourish now that Artashes has taken a more direct hand? Will Kyriake continue to churn out children at a ridiculously frightening rate? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 40 - IT'S A BIT GRIM OUT THERE...
(1232-1237)​

You'll have to excuse me for a minute...

Things have become a bit rough here in good old Suenik.

It seems that we're having a bit of trouble with something called "consumption".

Lots of hacking coughs and peasants dying in droves.

Still, Vachagan, he of the cleaver, assures me that I have the constitution of an ox and I'll shake this off in no time at all...

...and he's right! In "no time at all: I've wrestled consumption to the ground and caused it to tap out. I leap from my bed and yell "I RISE LIKE THE SUN! MORE ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE!"

After quaffing my fill, I bound to the stables ready to take old Toros out for a ride, only to find my stablehands clustered around looking worried.

My Master of Horse approaches me, tears in his eyes, shaking his head...

Horse Toros is no more.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Apparently he was "really old" and was "lucky to live as long as he did" but I'm not having it.

Someone - or someTHING - is behind this!

I will ferret them out and avenge Horse Toros. They can try and hide in the shadows, but they WILL BE FOUND.

I have the stables burnt to the ground as a precaution.

As I plan my campaign for finding the culprit, Kyriake starts to bother me with her incessant demands for attention.

Something about a child apparently.

I ignore her - finding the killer of Horse Toros is my - and Suenik's! - number one priority.

Sadly, Duke Ioannes doesn't get the message, and starts prattling on about how he's expanded the kingdom or something, and should be lauded as a result.

Good for you sunshine - what do you want, a medal or something? Tell me, were there any clues as to who killed Horse Toros in Amisos? No? THEN GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND STOP WASTING MY TIME!

On reflection, I realise that expanding the kingdom IS actually a positive thing, so I poke my head around the door and yell "GOOD MAN!" down the corridor after him.

Hopefully that's staved off an armed insurrection.

Searching for the killer of Horse Toros takes up all of my time. I spend years in contemplation - affairs of state be damned; there's a horse murderer on the loose.

Let the others say whatever they want. I won't be swayed. Horse Toros was a faithful companion - nay, a faithful friend! Nothing can stop me in my unwavering quest for justice. My years of dedication is proof of this! Come hell or high water I will find the killer and...oh, what was that Claudia?

5

Fuck it - he was just a horse.

Right, affairs of state. Where were we?

Ah - that's not what I meant when I said "affairs" but never mind, chalk up another notch on the old bedpost, eh?

As I try and get acquainted with what I've missed out on, it turns out that "not a lot - everything is the same as usual" is the answer.

I politely point out to Dietmar that I've had it up to here with people babbling on about their faiths, and that he should shut his mouth and get out of my sight.

He seems to take it stoically, like Germans are famed for.

Wait.

German.

Isn't Claudia....

Oh for goodness sake. Before the screaming and wailing can start again, I go and see Vachgan, hoping he'll prescribe another one of those wonderful excursions into the wilderness - for at least a year or so.

Wow - this stuff is good. I'm inspired! I'm a poet and I didn't know it!

sEe?

I WrItE mY WiFe a LoOoOoOoNg, F l O w E r Y, pOeM FiLleD wItH dEcLaRaTiOnS oF UnDyInG lOOOOOOOOvE aNd RePeNtAnCe.....

Vachgan describes it as one of the greatest works of fiction he's ever read.

I clap him on the back and slur "GOOD MAN" before coughing loudly, pointing at the pipe and muttering "GOOD SHIT".

A few months later I've got a new horse - Toros II - and, as predictability would have it, a new bastard.

What? She called him REINARD????

Before we get into a massive argument about how much of a truly terrible name REINHARD is, I receive distressing news from somewhere called England!

It seems that first born girl child's first born girl child has died. "SADDLE MY HORSE!" I yell. "WE RIDE FOR ENGLAND AT DAWN!" As I'm trying to mount Toros II, my chancellor explains to me where England is. Hanging there, half in the saddle, I feel somewhat foolish. I see my chancellor's pitying expression and the looks on the people around him.

I'll show him.

Sadly, my decision doesn't prove to be universally popular. Over the passing months I can hear dark whisperings about "glue" and "soap" coming from the shadows. Never fear Horse Toros II - I won't let you suffer the same way that Horse Toros I did!

My steward almost bleeds from the eyes when I tell him the cost of the armour, but my chancellor signed off on the expenditure, so all is good from a legal stand point. I pick up a pile of gold that he had been counting, grin at him, hold out my hands, lean in and whisper "It'S jUsT mOnEy aFtEr AlL!" before laughing hysterically and throwing the coins high in the air and walking out.

My chancellor's security sealed, I try and turn my mind back to what I was looking to do before I got sidetracked. So, I went to my physician about something a few years ago...

Why did I do that?

And what is that noise?

It's like a shrilling, piercing sound...

Does consumption do this do you to?

Oh...

Wait...

Now I remember...

Maybe I shouldn't have laughed, clapped her on the back and drawled "gOoD mAn!!!!" as this seemed to make her louder, go red and start shaking. Still, at least the tears have stopped. In fact, she seems to have taken it pretty well all things considered, as she's leaving the chamber and...wait...what's with the long bow. Now, hang on a minute darling...ah...she's not aiming it at me.

Phew.

No, she's just aiming it out the window...at the stables...

WAIT!

STOP!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Will there be a Horse Toros III? How much will the separate bedchambers cost? What of the consumption? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 41 - LOOKS LIKE MEAT'S BACK ON THE MENU!
(1237-1241)​

Remember how Suenik used to be this backwater nothing of a state, where the people cowered in fear from their mightier neighbours? Well, now - under my astute statesmanship - the capital has become a veritable bastion of learning!

I mean, the scholars have clearly not heard about the ongoing epidemic, or else are purposefully ignoring the piles of wheezing and dying peasants that litter the streets. That being said, "Hey look - new schools and nobody to fill them as they're all dying of consumption!" is fittingly Suenikian...

Another thing that is fittingly Suenikian is "people who will take advantage of hard times to try and line their own pockets".

I'm almost giddy with excitement! Last time this happened, we had a good old war. I'm in the midst of trying to strap on my armour - not easy with one hand - and yelling at my groom to have Toros saddled for war, when I realise two things.

1) Toros passed away a long time ago
2) My spymaster is yelling at me in that loud, slow voice reserved for the dear, the old and the infirm that patriarch Symmachos is safely ensconced in my dungeons.

I hold my face in my hands and start weeping and shrieking uncontrollably. After a good couple of minutes of this, my spymaster and groom are suitably embarrassed, and slowly slink out of my room. I remain there for the rest of the day, gazing out of the window at the burnt out ruins of the old stable.

Speaking of burning, it appears we've now got a witch problem in Suenik.

It only stands to reason that she's probably behind all of this epidemic nonsense, so I have my new Patriarch fire up the pyre - HEY! THERE'S THAT POETRY AGAIN! Must remember to ask Vachgan for more of whatever it was he put in that pipe...

Surprisingly, listening to the mournful and agonised screams of a burning woman seems to have worked wonders on my mood.

To celebrate, I order that a Great Feast be held. And yes, I know that we're cloistered in the castle, and there's barely enough food to go around, but with my new found thriftiness what could go wrong? MORE ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE!

Someone who proves that he is not a lover of fine Armenian wines, is Duke Ioannes.

Apparently my gathering will be a "super spreader event".

Whatever that is.

More fool him - the feast was absolutely amazing - he totally missed out! We ate, we danced, we revelled AND IT WAS ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!

I'm sure this consensus had nothing to do with me standing by the door as my guests left and barking "So WaS tHiS bRiLlIaNt oR wHaT??!?!?", grinning madly and jabbing my stump in their direction until they made some kind of positive noises.

That being said, this being Suenik, it becomes rapidly apparent that the party isn't the only thing that is dying down....

I rush to her side and start shrieking uncontrollably. She smiles and tousles my hair and tells me not to worry. I bound to my feet, hold a finger in the air, and dash off.

A grand gesture! Yes - a grand gesture of my love. Love conquers all, and if I show my love, Eugenia will recover. Yes? YES???!? THAT'S SCIENCE!

I pack one of my bastard children off to live with the Greece. SEE HOW MUCH YOUR MIGHTY WARRIOR LOVES YOU, MY DEAR!

However, whilst I might have comforted Eugenia, it appears that the ongoing epidemic doesn't give two hoots about grand gestures and continues to take its toll on the castle...

...however, whilst everyone else is flapping and panicking, I just sit there shaking my head. Fear does strange things to people, one of which is that it impairs their ability to think clearly. Not me though - I have faced down the White Tiger of Suenik after all! Very little scares me. No - while the little people run around shrieking (curiously, a lot of said shrieking is along the lines of "We should never have had that bloody feast!"), I crawl around on the cellar floors enacting my master plan.

You see, we haven't LOST the food. It just happens to be INSIDE the rats now...

I return to the throne room, mouth bloody and holding a brace of rodents. "HAHA!" I yell. "RATS FOR MY MEN! WE RIDE AT DAWN!"

Before I can be congratulated as "the saviour of starving Suenik" I'm pulled aside be Vachgan who has some grim news...

I bite into a particularly chunky rat as I mull this over - pausing only to spit out clumps of hair. Note to self - have the servants shave the rats before serving them. Vachgan pales slightly as he hears the bones crack and some yellow marrow drips from the side of my mouth.

Wiping rat juice from my beard, I nod sagely whilst gesticulating with a half chewed rat, and tell Vachgan to have Latavri thrown from the castle. We can't have the infected eating into our limited supply of delicious rodents. "NO EXCEPTIONS!" I boom, before putting an arm around Vachgan and offering him a piece of rat.

He declines.

And runs to the latrine.

I hope HE'S not ill.

My rationing system seems to be going well. Everyone is showing some good Suenikian spirit and being very polite about it all. Every time rats are offered around my courtiers are all "No, please - you first" to each other. Absolutely splendid folks.

Of course, this is Suenik, and Gurgen has to go and spoil it for everyone.

He looks at me pleadingly, imploringly. I've known Gurgen for years - trusted him even. Back in the glory days he was one of my battlefield commanders, riding with me against the enemies of Suenik.

He is also, however, a gluttonous pig...

Thankfully, much like the rats, the solution is obvious. The food he stole isn't GONE - it's just INSIDE Gurgen...

I was going to say that Gurgen is the reason we can't have nice things, but actually, thanks to Gurgen, we ARE having nice things. That night we dine well - nobody questions where the enormous quantities of roasted meat came from.

I really must commend the castle's cooks. That was an absolutely splendid meal. With enough herbs and spices anything can taste good. Standing shakily, I raise a goblet and toast "TO GURGEN!" before giggling hysterically and falling back into my seat. The penny drops, and I can see some people staring in horror at their plates, whilst other have gone an odd shade of green. I throw my goblet in the air and stagger from the room towards my bedchamber leaving behind me a room full of hushed conversations and tears.

A few months later, Tamar ensures that the nobility of Suenik are saved from starvation once again.

This time, with the growing food shortages, more people are prepared to look the other way. Seems Tamar was never as popular as Gurgen, but I am thinking of instituting an order of "The Suenikian Culinary Martyrs".

Oddly enough, in a way that is classically Suenikian, the screams of the dying, the epidemic and the horrors of cannibalism emanating from the castle in palpable waves don't seem to have had any discernible effect on countryside as a whole, and the good people of the kingdom prove that they are happiest and most resilient when things are going horribly, spectacularly wrong.

Or do they mean "prospers" as in "prospecting for gold"?

Regardless, I stay holed up in the castle. I'm feeling very, VERY rough, but Vachgan assures me that I'm not suffering from consumption. I'm not doubting him, but it feels like my nerves are ablaze.

None the less, I have no desire to be around anyone who might be keen to pass it on to me. Therefore, when I see Lady Helene hacking her guts up I enforce my zero tolerance policy and have her flung out of the castle.

"NO EXCEPTIONS!"

Gah.

You try and do your best for people and what do THEY do? They hide diseases from you and risk infecting everyone else, that's what they do!

Look at all I've done for them!

They get three square meals (of dubious provenience) per day, they've got a roof over their heads, and they're free from the threat of foreign marauders. Granted, the last point is largely down to the fact that not even the staunchest horse lord would dare set foot within the boundaries of Suenik at the moment for fear of catching something foul, but still; a win's a win.

I'll tell you what though, I don't feel like I'm winning...

"VACHGAN!"

Are you sure I'm ok? I really feel awful. Listen to that coughing - it's horrible.

Wait.

That's not me...

What did I tell you Vachgan! I shakily press my hands into the arms of my throne and half raise myself. When my voice comes, it's a hoarse rattle.

"NO EXCEP...oh..."

My words trail off.

My courtiers are staring at me as I painfully straighten and hobble from where I was sitting to where Kyriake stands. She's looking nervous, but she needn't worry. Throughout everything, she was the one that stood by me; even when I was - if I'm completely honest - a bit of a shit.

She was dependable...

Not like a horse, you understand, but pretty good for a human - and loyal.

I try and smile.

OW!

Why is even smiling painful?

I put my arms around her - it feels like my whole body is on fire - and as I lean into the embrace I hear the shocked gasps go up from the assembled court just as my legs give way. Kyriake shrieks, but I'm ok with that - she was always my favourite. As I slump to the floor and darkness starts creeping across my vision I ignore the sea of frightened faces peering down at me, and instead focus on her.

Before I know it, she's on her knees to me weeping and wailing.

I give a rictus of a smile and whisper "good man".

Courtiers are running to and fro - some screaming for Vachgan, others for Toros.

I manage one more smile.

They'll be fine.

Everyone will be fine.

Events like this are character building.

What now for Suenik? Will Toros live up to his manly name? Will he shepherd Suenik through the epidemic? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 42 - COUGH! HACK! ILLNESS NOISES!
(1241)​

Hi everyone. I'm Prince Toro...sorry, KING Toros of Suenik.

I know I'm my Lord father's first born son and heir, but I really don't feel ready for this job.

For one, my home is currently the Duchy of Tao - a hot bed of restless nomads, tribal warlords and horses.

So many horses...

However, dealing with irate horse lords who are nominally Suenikian is something that is entirely within my wheelhouse.

I don't know if my father was losing it when he assigned me here, or if it was some kind of weird punishment - he was always so disappointed that I didn't want to join him on his deranged hunts for that mythical White Tiger - but I made the most of this Duchy, and I'm quite fond of it.

Or, to put it another way, I really don't want to have to drag my family all the way south to that plague ridden dump that we call a capital. It wasn't great when everyone there wasn't dying of consumption, and I have to say the thought of trying to avoid tripping over the dead and dying with every step doesn't exactly make my heart sing with joy.

Still, needs must.

On the way there, we encounter - and steer clear of - villages where the dead are being piled high and burnt on massive bonfires. I make a mental note that these poor souls need cheering up.

When I arrived in Syunik proper, it finally hits me just how popular my father was. People seem genuinely upset that he's gone, and a little bit of that rubs off on me...

...or, to put it another way, I see the perfect opportunity to curry favour with his supporters. Prior to the old fella popping his clogs, he started work on a massive necropolis. Yes, it was another stupid vanity project, and a colossal waste of resources, but it's partially finished. Therefore, if I hold a lavish and spectacular funeral for HIM, everyone will think better of ME!

Win, win, right?

Obviously, clearly more of a win for me, given that I'm not - you know - DEAD, and it's me that people are saying "Oooh. Isn't he such a dutiful son?" about.

Pops suitably buried, I wander into the castle, rubbing my hands together and eager to find out the lay of the land. I've got grand plans for Suenik, but I need to get to know people and I need an opportunity to make it clear that my style of leadership is going to be different from my father's. I'm not going to be spending my time gallivanting around the countryside chasing mythical beasts - instead, I'm going to be a grounded, decent ruler who people will sing about in years to come.

I'm also going to live an extremely comfortable life and make a stack of cash off the backs of my subjects, but that's just part and parcel of being king.

That being said, this place is horrible! There are pyres for the dead everywhere, the sky is basically obscured by smoke, and the smell of death clings to you like a needy lover. I've barely had time to watch the servants unpack everything when I start coughing up my lungs. Urgh. This miasma sticks in your throat like nothing I've known.

I tell my wife to go and fetch Vachgan - my father's trusted physician - but it turns out that he's died to the epidemic that is sweeping the countryside.

Great.

I believe that's what soothsayers call "an ill omen".

Not to be defeated by a minor setback like the one person in the castle with medical knowledge dying of the plague he's meant to be curing, I have word sent throughout the kingdom that a great reward will be offered to the wisest physician willing to serve the king.

I just hope he gets here soon as I feel about as alive as I'm sure my father feels resting in his necropolis.

Finally, a few lung-wracking weeks later, my prayers are answered and Vahag presents his credentials.

I hire him on the spot.

If he can get me back on my feet and ready to start this whole kingly business I'm willing to have him known as "Vahag the Saviour of Suenik".

Unfortunately, he is probably going to earn the moniker of Vahag the "Not very good at reading the room". You see, I've got a delicate disposition - most really smart people have this you know - and I like to be drip fed bad news. It gives me time to digest it, piece by piece, and formulate an appropriate response. Vahag, on the other hand, seems to believe that weapons-grade bad news is the way to go.

Before I can even berate him for this, he decides to put an epidemic-flavoured-cherry on top.

I try to raise my sickly voice to something more than a pathetic rattle, but Vahag assures me that he has everything in hand. All he needs to do is have me lie there and he'll take care of the rest.

I'm not convinced of the benefit of this treatment and I wheeze, in what I hope is a bitingly sarcastic tone, that I imagine he's trying to save time at the funeral by mummifying me now. Sadly, I don't hear his retort, as I'm overcome at that moment with a crippling fever, and sweeping chills.

Great.

At least that's some variety to go with the "body-spasming-coughing-fits".

I pass in an out of consciousness over the next few days, waking only to see Vahag standing near me holding a knife and a bowl that smelt absolutely foul. He places the bowl on the table and salutes me dramatically. Before I can protest I pass out.

And never wake again.

Two dead rulers in a row? Can Oshin make it a hattrick? Will the plague ever burn itself out? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 43 - TIMBUCKWHERE?
(1241-1243)​

Greetings my friends.

I am King of Oshin of Suenik, and I take the throne in a time of trouble and tribulation.

My dear father has been taken from us far too quickly, my eldest sister rules from foreign shores, my only brother is dead and my younger sister has left for China.

With both of my parents dead, my only surviving grandparent stricken by the plague and my son too young to even stand, I face the monumental task of holding Suenik together by myself.

Now, I know what you're thinking - this is Suenik - governing it is always a "monumental task", but this is not hyperbole. I know from the whisperings around court that dark forces are marshalling against me - nobles that claim they want more power for the council, whilst really seeking only to enrich their own coffers. Those closest to me advise me to move against these traitors before they can strike - suggesting all sorts of furtive subterfuge to win the day. However, I wave them away.

This can all wait.

I must grieve.

Yes, he was indecisive, flippant and deceitful, but he was my father, and therefore I - his son - must honour him as such. I ignore the pleas of my advisors and, as my enemies draw their plans against me, I fulfil my last duty to my Lord father and bury him in the Necropolis. It is still under construction, but it is fitting that he lies at rest alongside his father.

Rest in peace father.

You will be missed.

My enemies have the decorum to wait until after the funeral rites have been completed before presenting me with their demands.

I don't even haggle - the forces arrayed against me outnumber my own and, with the plague still sweeping the land, I earnestly believe that Suenik and her people have seen enough death for one lifetime.

Without another thought, I sign their document, and they get their way.

I swear I can see looks of sadness and disappointment on some of their faces before I turn and calmly leave them to their victory.

A few months later, the Duke of Abkhazia decides to emulate the actions of the Duke of Trebizond. I've heard of his plottings and slander - how he sees me as a weak "boy king" - the last of a once great line.

A puppet for him to control and make dance to his tune.

Unfortunately for him, I have had months to prepare, my treasury is full, the kingdom is recovering and my grief has been replaced with anger. With all the intensity of a gathering storm I remind his herald that it is the king who makes the rules around here, and that he should inform his lord that I will meet him on the field of battle.

As the messenger scuttles from the castle I turn to my marshal - a veteran of my grandfather's wars - and instruct him to raise the banners and summon my host for war. The old soldier smiles, winks and says "And I'll bet you'll be shouting for MORE ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE eh, my liege?"

I have no idea what he is talking about.

My men are surprisingly efficient, and my armies are raised quickly. Unlike our foes, my troops are all located centrally, so while the traitors' forces are spread out in an attempt to lay siege to my holdings I am able to concentrate mine into two mighty armies.

One, I hold back in reserve, whereas I lead the other one straight into Abkhazia. I'll give Duke Derana credit for his courage - despite being outnumbered almost six to one, he takes to the field to face me in battle.

5

A mistake, and the war is won before it has barely begun.

Riding back to the castle I am in great spirits, and there is much cheering and signing. This probably goes a long way to explaining the growing irritation in my throat.

Vahag - my father's trusted physician and court chaplain decides to offer me the sort of help that only he can could think of.

I suspect that I might have to review that man's credentials, but not now - not until this epidemic has fully retreated. He's a moron, but I've heard claims that he has cured some of the plague.

Just not my father.

As the weeks and months pass, my condition, and that of several others in the castle, begins to worsen.

Vahag offers some pretty unconventional treatments for me which - strange as they seem - actually appear to do some good.

However, I am absolutely against his notions that we throw the other "infected" out of the castle. If the infection is here, it is his duty as a doctor - and a man of god I hasten to add! - to care for the afflicted.

Sadly, this is Suenik, so it appears that in leaving it to him to define "caring for the afflicted" he manages to work in his scheme to have the afflicted evicted - permanently - from the castle.

I tell him no.

My mother was a pagan, and I've learned a lot about their culture. What most Christians write off as "devil worship" is actually just pagan rites that they are fully ignorant of. A few weeks later, rather sulkily, Vahag comes to me to see me again. I make it abundantly clear that I won't entertain any more thoughts of burning people at the stake, but he informs me that he's heard of rumours of a great artefact hidden somewhere in the kingdom.

I narrow my eyes and ask if this artefact has anything to do with burning supposed apostates. He assures me that it hasn't, and that furthermore, it's probably pretty valuable, holy and impressive. My standing IS pretty poor with the local clergy - I'm pretty sure they've referred to me as a "filthy horse worshipper" before - so having a holy relic in the castle treasury would go a long way towards making amends with them. On the other hand, this is Suenik, so searching for this whatever-it-might-be is no doubt going to turn out to be some kind of expensive wild-goose chase. Or a deadly wild goose-chase. Or a heretical wild goose-chase.

Naturally, I sign off and choose to believe it to be an expensive wild-goose chase.

While preparations are being made for this I take the time to rest and recover. I don't want to be dashing around in my condition, and ending up feeling even more fatigued than I already am. Instead, I take the time to review some maps of the world. Geography always interested me, and I'm fascinated by the changing face of the world. However, as I dig deeper into ledger and scrolls I find myself more fascinated by where Gardman-Agbhanias end up.

Take, for example, Toros Gardman-Agbhania.

No, not my father, and no, not either of the horses.

Instead, I am referring to someone who, I BELIEVE is my grandfather's brother. I think that makes him my great uncle. This crafty old sod has travelled all the way across the world to - and somehow ended up as the spymaster of - somewhere called "Timbuktu" which is a county within the borders of some other place called Mali.

Now, Mali is pretty far away, so how he ended up there is completely beyond me.

He also seems to really dislike me for some reason.

That's the wonderful thing about Gardman-Agbhanias. The man is literally half the world away, but he still sees fit to hold a grudge against his grand nephew who, he may have seen once at a Christening eighteen years ago.

I was told my Christening was a bizarre affair - I should look into that some day...

Will Oshin recover? Will the plague manage a hat-trick of kings for the as-yet-unfinished Necropolis? Will the Necropolis ever be finished? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 44 - WHY TOROS, WHY?
(1243)​

Greetings, friends!

Great news! It's been a few weeks, but my regime of rest and recuperation (and the occasional naked midnight run) has seen me shrug off the great plague that has claimed the lives of the last two kings of Suenik!

I immediately order a grand celebration and make my way to the council chamber, full of the joys of spring and ready to fully apply myself to my goal of making Suenik a wonderful place for people - both rich and poor, great and small - to live.

For some reason, my noble councillors are sitting around with extremely worried looks on their faces. Assuming that they are concerned about the costs of the tournament, I spread my hands, smile and assure them that the cost will come straight from my personal coffers - this is MY gift to the people of Suenik after all.

My marshal shakes his head and hands me a scroll, making it quite clear that the tournament is the furthest thing from their mind.

Strange thing for a marshal to say - these military types normally love tournaments.

Still, this is a pretty fancy scroll.

It's even got a cool little dragon seal on it.

Oh.

Looks like the Germans are in for a world of hurt.

However, none of this bothers me.

My confinement has taught me that every moment is fleeting, and that we should be thankful for our lot in life.

There's literally nothing I can do about the Chinese rampaging over the Holy Roman Empire, and if they decide to come for us next then so what? Do we march out and meet them and invite their armies to rampage across Suenik, or do we peacefully capitulate and negotiate a fair settlement for our people?

Oops. I appear to have been thinking out loud, and my councillors are staring at me goggle-eyed. My marshal wipes away a tear, stands and barks "Ashtartes will be turning in his grave!" He marches out of the room and I swear I can hear him sob the words "GOOD MAN" before breaking down into a great, gasping flood of tears.

I dismiss my gawking council with a wave of my hand and a smile, before reclining back in my chair with my hands laced behind my head and closing my eyes - a look of blasé contentment on my face.

A minute passes and my reverie is disturbed by a polite cough. I open one eye and I see my spymaster standing there. He gives me an awkward little wave.

I ask him what is wrong, and he asks me if I remember, great uncle Toros - spymaster of Timbuktu. Of course I do. Nasty old bird who didn't seem to like me, despite the fact that there are hundreds of miles of desert, mountains and angry infidels between us. Still, if you've got to admire that Gardman-Agbhania ability to bear a grudge!

My spymaster politely cuts me off and explains that uncle Toros appears to have been rather good at his vocation, and has somehow manoeuvred himself into a position of prominence.

What is more, he also seems to really, REALLY dislike me.

I'm speechless. My spymaster offers a shrug of the shoulders and says that "these things happen" and promises me that I'll be perfectly safe.

Well, that's that then.

I settle back in my chair, with a contented smile on my face...

...only to be woken by a dusty and dishevelled Vahag rushing in and throwing himself on his knees before me, wailing and pleading for my assistance against "Them".

The poor man is in a terrible state, but I fix him a stern look and ask whether or not "Them" has anything to do with burning apostates.

He shakes his head frantically and points out that virtually no heretics were burned in the performance of his duties in Mtshketa!

I promise him some assistance, and I also make a mental note to have my Chancellor insist that the Georgians make use of more vowels in their place names.

Rebels safely dealt with (and Vahag warned, one last time, to stop burning people at the stake) I pass the following days presiding over my "Everyone Rejoice That Oshin Triumphed Over The Plague" tournament.

That's obviously NOT its real name, but it gives me a little contented smile to think of it as that. Yes, there's a lot wrong with the world but, when you're healthy and happy, you really should give thanks for it.

It's an exhilarating affairs - the clash of lances, the thrill of the melee and the skill of the archers - but at the end one of my commanders, Vagharshak, stands victorious.

With a huge, beaming smile on my face I crown him with the victor's laurels and grab his hand, raising it into the air alongside mine.

The crowd - nobles, bughers and peasants alike - all go wild!

I turn to my marshal, point at Vagharshak, wink and say "Good man, am I right?" The old man nods, goes to reply, but doesn't manage more than a faint quivering of the lip before breaking down into a helpless fit of sobbing. Two pages scurry over to help him, I clap Vagharshak on the back and we both share a hearty laugh.

That night, the feast is merry, the song is loud and the drink flows relentlessly. At one point I even stand on the table, point at the assembled knights and roar "MORE ARMENIAN POMEGRANATE WINE FOR MY CHAMPIONS!" The approving nods I get from the older section of the audience warm my heart, but I swear I hear one lady mutter "Dear God, not again..."

Regardless, I feel brilliant.

I've beaten consumption - the bane of Suenik's previous rulers! - the tournament has been a success, the revolt has been put down and my people love me. So what if I'm not a great conqueror of empires? I'm happy and I'm going to make my people happy. One day they will all share the sense of contentment that I feel. I'll be known as the ruler who brought equality justice and prosperity to Suenik!

Slightly giddy from the wine, I slide into bed with a big, stupid grin on my face.

Maybe everything IS going to be alright after all.

Life is good.

And then I feel it.

What is the strange hissing sound? Is it something innocuous? Has it travelled from Mali? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 45 - NOT THE CATS AGAIN...
(1243-1245)​

HISS!

ARGH!

*THUD*

...

Oh dear.

I mean, "hello".

My name is Khorishah - the mother of the recently deceased King Oshin. His son, King Grigor, is far too young to take the reigns of power - so I'm going to do my best until he comes of age.

I'll be honest; things are not looking great.

The council is in complete disarray, and I constantly find myself fighting them over the most minor things. First there was the moaning and complaining from them around the cost involved in burying my beloved son in the will-it-ever-be-finished-before-it-is-overflowing necropolis.

I even heard that weasel Bagour, Oshin's spymaster, declare that Oshin was "no Artashes" and could the realm bear the cost for burying such a "nobody of a king"? I scream at Bagour that maybe if he was better at his job than maybe my beloved son would have had a chance to grow to the same stature as my larger than life father in law. He simply laughs and make a remark about how pagan women are so emotional.

Pig.

However, I stand my ground and point out that if the council is so concerned about the realm's finances then perhaps they'll be willing to sign off in me passing out some of King Grigor's minor holdings to trusted retainers to look after.

Again, more laughter from Bagour and some remarks indicating that THE COUNCIL are King Grigor's MOST trusted retainers, and who better to look after the land than them?

Begrudgingly, for the good of the realm, I agree to his proposal and storm off.

One bright bit of news is that, as a parting shot, the plague of consumption took one last victim with it - Vahag.

Good riddance - I'll never forgive you for failing to save my Toros!

A few months pass and there's an uproar in the towns and villages of the kingdoms. Bagour explains to me (whilst rubbing his hands together obsequiously) that as the wise and noble regent, resolving this "minor issue" falls to me.

He wanders off cackling.

Yes - it's time again for Suenik to engage in that time honoured past time of blaming cats for absolutely everything that goes wrong.

Unlike the last time this happened, I listen to the people and agree to do some research. Weeks pass, and my new physician offers his opinion.

Unlike cursed Vahag, this man actually seems to know what he's talking about, but we agree to carry on with our research. With all the turmoil affecting the realm, it doesn't pay to antagonise the peasants!

What's that?

Oh - "the turmoil"?

You want to know about that?

Forgive me - I didn't explain that earlier. There's just a lot going on...

As you know, Suneik has seen three kings die in as many years. This has produced what we in the lineage tracking business like to know as "a dynastic crisis".

Yes - it seems that Artashes' policy of marrying off his daughters to random foreign kings has come back to haunt the realm.

Thanks father in law.

Thankfully, the peasants seem pacified, so hopefully we can weather the next decade or so peacefully and my son can get down to the serious business of marrying and producing an heir.

Sadly, that's a LONG way off. At the moment, the lord and master of all things Suenikian is sitting on the floor and rolling around with one of the plague cats.

I REALLY hope that Nehilai is right about these guys NOT being the reason for the epidemic...

As I'm enjoying watching my son chasing after Whiskers-the-possible-vector-for-death, Bagour comes to me with what he assures me are "glad tidings".

I tell him to get stuffed - my place is at my son's side; not as some Khan's trophy wife (however much I might miss the old ways compared to this so-called "civilisation"'s insanity).

The months go by, and I get word from the dungeons that Demna - one of the rebels that my son had imprisoned - is making it quite clear that he doesn't understand the meaning of the phrase "strong bargaining position".

I advise the jailer to move Demna to less comfortable quarters.

None the less, the man appears to have quite the network of contacts because, even from the bottom of Suenik's darkest wells, he is able to get word to his people to hide his personal cat menagerie!

As a result the peasants are rampaging throughout the countryside. There's even a conspiracy started that the nobles are either cat-people or in league with the cat-people. The cat-people, it turns out, are behind EVERY misfortune that befalls the serfs in Suenik. Honestly, wasn't that what religion was invented for?

The army is mobilised to "gently calm the peasants down" and I stare at the calendar trying to wish away a decade.

Maybe I've been in Suenik too long and I'm catastrophising everything when I don't need to.

After all, we're just talking about a bunch of uppity peasants, right? They'll be dealt with swiftly, and I'll get back to the smooth running of my son's kingdom. A decade from now I'll present it to him, like a flawless, cut diamond and he'll marvel at its pure, untarnished beauty. He'll turn to me and say "Mother, your stewardship - no, your WISE stewardship - has allowed for this seamless transfer of power, and I am now able to take the burden from you, and spend the vast sums of wealth that you've carefully and thoughtful accumulated to better the lot of everyone in the kingdom. I may even build a statue to you. After all, aside from that slight blip with the cats over a decade ago, everything went well."

And then everyone will cheer and throw their hats in the air.

Apart from Bagour - he won't be there to cheer after that unfortunate accident the involved him accidentally stabbing himself in the face multiple times and accidentally throwing himself from the highest turret in the castle and accidentally bouncing into the piraña pool.

I sigh wistfully.

Wait...

Is that cheering I can hear outside?

Have I been day dreaming for a decade?!?

No.

My mistake.

It's screaming...

One short council meeting later, and Bagour explains that my dreams for a decade of peace and prosperity might have to go on hold.

He also makes the point of telling me that "the fate of the kingdom" rests on my "broad and homely shoulders".

Fixing him a stare, I turn to the rest of the council. The anger is tearing me up inside - anger at this group of buffoons who are content to help themselves to the riches of the realm, but shirk their responsibility of command when the going gets tough. Anger at the opportunist tyrants to the west who would take advantage of a gentle child's troubles for the sake of coin. Anger at idiots who lose their shit when they see a cat.

Channeling the rage, I angrily gesticulate out of the window.

"Men of Suenik!" I bellow. "We can imagine the banners of the enemy approaching. We hear their footfalls in the distance. Soon now, we will meet them face-to-face. I am resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all. While we stand together - united - no invader shall pass. Let them come with the armies of Hell; they will not pass! And when this day of battle is ended, we will meet again in Heaven or on the field of victory!"

I'm conscious that I'm standing on the council chamber with both fists in the air.

From behind me, I can hear a slow clap.

Whirling around I see Bagour grinning malevolently. He stops his clapping and flicks his hand in my direction. Two guardsmen loom out of the shadows and seize me.

"Nice speech, sweetheart" he laughs as I'm dragged off down the corridor. "War's a man's business - I'll take over from here."

War has come to Suenik (again)! Will Bagour lead the armies of Suenik to victory? What of Khorishah? What of the cats? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 46 - WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?
(1245-1247)​

Hello everyone - Bagour here; regent of Suenik.

It feels GREAT saying that.

Now that we've got rid of that awful pagan women, let's see if I can hold things together for Suenik until her mewling brat comes of age, shall we? Suenik's enough of a mess without five year olds running around calling the shots.

Honestly, that child. If I told you of the things he was capable off...

Anyway...

First things first, I summon my finest cartographical minds and ask them to explain exactly where the Egyptians are assaulting and why. As far as I am aware, Suenik doesn't share a border with Egypt.

Their answer surprises me.

Hmm.

Well, on one hand, I could just hand over this random patch of scrub and desert to the Egyptians but, on the other hand, it's cleary significant enough that they've sent eleven thousand men to trample over it, so that makes me think it's worth fighting for.

I order the banners raised, and send Suenik's finest off on a two pronged assault against the Egyptians, and pretty much call it good.

The war will be over in no time at all.

The Egyptians dispatch a skirmishing force, but they prove no match for my armies - sorry, Suenik's armies - and are hastily dispatched.

Honestly, I thought Egyptians were made of sterner stuff.

Still, I shouldn't mock. His reaction reminds me of when I saw King Grigor doing that thing...no...wait...it's too traumatic...

Some other time.

I will have my revenge in time.

Speaking of sterner stuff, it turns out that trekking over mountainous desert terrain is something that really does require "sterner stuff" from the men doing it. The days are hot, the nights are cold and...

...well, this is all a bit painful so let me quickly sum up the passage of a few brutal months of war in one tragic image.

Yes.

Ouch.

As I'm surrounded by shrieking courtiers and squabbling councillors, who all want to know why Suenik's grand army is in full retreat, I'm interrupted by the indolent child whose kingdom I am protecting, who feels that this is the appropriate time to bother me.

People laugh and write off his babbling as childish tall tales, but inwardly I shudder, knowing full well what this monster is truly capable of.

There are moments over the next few weeks where I think that this whole regency business might not be as much fun as I had first assumed it would be, but it's important to keep perspective. There are ALWAYS people worse off than you.

That being said, I occasionally need my spirits bolstering, and in this case I manage to raise a huge big smile on my face by packing off my predecessor to live with "her people".

Good riddance, horse-botherer - Suenik is better off without your kind!

This being Suenik, it's not five minutes before I find myself dealing with some unhinged lunatic. In this case, it's Patriarch Mleh - he of the glassy-eyed, hundred-yard stare. He clearly agrees with my decision, and orders a celebration in honour of me "being a champion of Christian virtue".

Well, you know what they say, in time of war it is essential to keep the people happy, and nothing makes the average Suenikian happier than watching someone less fortunate than themselves suffer. We chuck a random Tengri on the fire and stand around, holding hands, and singing a couple of choruses of "Suenik 'tis for thee."

It's really quite rousing, in a disturbing, barbaric, cruel and horrible sort of way.

What is more rousing, however, is the sight of the bedraggled Egyptian army that has made the same journey that my armies...sorry, SUENIK'S armies, made as they...er...strategically withdrew across the mountains and deserts.

Turns out that my initial assessment of the Egyptians was correct - they are not made of stern stuff at all, and my reinforced forces merrily route them.

The history books, naturally, will change the odds to make it seem like it was a bit more of a sportsmanlike contest... Exhaustion, sunstroke and thirst will not be mentioned.

Opponents routed, my forces, sorry SUEN...oh, you know what I mean... My forces march once more for Suenik-on-Sea - this time remembering to pack extra water, headscarves and parasols for the long desert trip.

Things have calmed down considerably in the court now - it's amazing what a bloody and brutal massacre of the enemy in front of the royal palace can do for morale - and I can almost taste the victory.

"Bagour the Saviour" has a nice ring to it.

"Wow - you were so wise taking over when you did, Bagour", they'll say. "Imagine we had left that dippy Tengri woman in charge? Where would we be now?"

I'll tell you where - we wouldn't be camping out on the shores of the Mediterranean taking back what is rightly ours!

I sigh the contented sigh of someone who has done a damn good job. I've probably earned myself a nice patch of land out of this. Maybe even a higher noble title. Who knows, people might say "Hey, why not just take the job full time? After all, if the cap fits..."

It's round about now, as I'm foolishly basking in my almost imminent victory, that Suenik, like a sneaky little scorpion, proves just how Suenikian it actually is...

A few measly peasants? Ha - people always curse the bad luck of rulers of Suenik, but a few peasants I can deal with...

Ah - so they've brought some friends. Fine, I can handle them too...wait...what's that noise? It's like a dull whistling, followed by a smashing, and then some screams...

Oh - so they Egyptians decided to come back AND the royal army is somewhere south of the Byzantine Empire at the moment... Fine - it is what it is. Not need to panic. I'm sure we can hold out until they return. We just need to sit tight for a few weeks.

...

Funny how quickly a few weeks pass when you've got no army and all you've got to do is watch trebuchets lob rocks at your walls...

Look! Everyone needs to calm down! We can still do this. We've been through worse! Our troops are on their way. They will be here with us soon. As long as nothing radically changes we'll be over this hump in no time. Mark my wor...

To quote a wise man, Oh! Come! On!

Will the peasants win their war? Will the army make it back in time, or are they enjoying their time at the seaside too much? Will King Grigor ever get to speak? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 47 - HERE'S A SCRUBBING BRUSH, SUNSHINE...
(1247-1256)​

As the flower of Suenikian manhood desperately rushes home from newly liberated Suenik-on-Sea, the rebellious peasants continue to contribute to my ever rising blood pressure.

However, I have nothing to worry about. They've learned past lessons of being properly prepared when crossing mountainous desert terrain (mostly) and arrive in (fairly) good health, and set about putting the upstart peasants to the sword.

It is glorious.

Almost as glorious as the now-traditional "slaughtering more Egyptians in front of the castle homecoming parade now with extra blood" is.

There is much cheering, rejoicing and general merry making.

Naturally, as the architect of this glorious, generation-defining victory, I deserve a little celebration of my own.

In fact, I'm in such a good mood, I pack the brat off to have a celebration of his own. The sanctimonious little shit even spouts some nonsense about how he is grateful to me as a true leader has no character if he doesn't know his people. Apparently when he lets go of what he is, he can become what he might be. Whatever, shorty - piss off and eat cake with the peasants that were trying to kill you a few months ago.

Oh. What's that I can hear? The crack of thunder? There was a torrential downpour?

Oh. What's that? You got really, really cold and now you feel unwell? Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

Maybe this is you "becoming what you could be"...

I have a little celebration in honour of this "tragic" turn of events.

Sadly, Nehilai proves to be a massive spoilsport by bringing me the "good news" that his majesty is merely suffering from the common cold.

Dismayed that my royal charge isn't in fact dying of pneumonia, I turn my mind back to the war, and receive the fantastic news that my forces have arrived in Egyptian territory and are busy tearing down some castle walls.

I ignore the news that says "By the way, we fared REALLY badly on that trek across the desert. Again."

Thankfully, my casual indifference to the suffering of my people does nothing to dampen their spirits, and before I know it the castle of Tripoli is in my hands...

...wait.

What?

Tripoli?

I summon the royal cartographers, and they assure me that there is no mistake.

Who knew?

Following this devastating victory, the Sultan (or whatever he is calling himself these days) decides to peace out.

Apparently he has "more pressing matters on his hands".

I play this out for the great victory it is, without having to state that I'm pretty sure our army wouldn't survive the trek from Suenik to Egypt proper. It seems like Suenikian soldiers wilt like the delicate little flowers they are when exposed to the sun. Either that, or a good half of them are vampires...

None the less, I have a little celebration of my own. At the end of the day, it's not everyone that can claim to have fought a war to a meaningless conclusion over the course of years and at the cost of thousands of their countrymen's lives is it?

In other news, it appears that the righteous little monster that I'm standing in for has recovered.

Yay.

In fact, these days he appears so hale and hearty that he is doubling down on the righteousness, thanks to some misplaced advice from a rather confused relative...

It also appears the one of the Gardman-Agbhania clan has achieved a rare honour that no other member of that festering lineage has managed before.

I'm also willing to bet any sum of money (of which I have quite a fair bit now, thank you very much) that I can comfortably append "...and never will again" to that last statement.

I then find out what the "more pressing business" that the former Sultan of Egypt was waffling on about was...

Did he change religion mid war with me or something??? Maybe he was dealing with the Egyptian equivalent of all those Greeks and Catholics that kept trying to get King Artashes to come around to their way of thinking?

Some years pass and, glory of glories, the dynastic crisis is resolved!

It appears that Artashes' first-born-girl-child died, which means that it's Artashes' second-born-girl-child who is next in line to the throne. Unlike her sister who was wedded to the King of England, this one ended up in a marriage to some Baltic chief and, like most Suenikian women, was forceful enough to insist that all children be of her lineage.

Oh which she has none.

And she's no spring chicken.

None the less, I celebrate this turn of events in the only way I know how.

That pomegranate wine really is delicious.

What is less delicious, however, is how TRULY, UTTERLY, SICKENINGLY INSUFFERABLE Grigor is becoming!

The boy has so much to learn. There are certain traits that are considered classically Suenikian for rules. Just thinking out loud here, but things like insane, arbitrary, callous and vengeful - all of these are considered comfortingly familiar attributes for a King of Suenik to have. The people know where they are with that sort of ruler. Kind though?

It will never catch on.

There will be riots.

More riots than there are normally, that is.

I'll tell you what IS classically Suenikian though... The ol' "give with one hand and take away and punch you in the face with the other" switcheroo. Steward Hethum appears to have mastered this.

Seeing it done like that is pure poetry.

The months trundle by, and we receive news that Princess Berjouhi has passed. Guess what of? Those of you who have been following our tale closely should have no trouble guessing. For the rest of you, it was - drumroll please - consumption!

Our new heir-in-waiting-should-anything-happen-to-the-brat is, I believe, former-King-Oshin-may-he-rest-in-peace's sister.

Or something like that.

It's pretty hard to keep track of, given that monarchs here tend to have lifespans equivalent to those of mayflies.

Speaking of which, Grigor's pontificating, charity and near constant smile have just about pushed me over the edge.

Which gives me an idea for a fifteenth birthday present...

Yes, your majesty. It's called a ladder. Would you care to try it out?

As a wise man once said, events like this breed character.

Will Grigor survive his jaunt on the roof? Will Suenik ever have a male heir? Has Bagour gone too far? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 48 - THESE TILES ARE VERY SLIPPY!
(1256-1258)​

Woah!

Careful now!

One foot at a time...

God, this is high.

Don't think about the height and you'll...

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!

*THUD*

...

Phew.

Thought I was done for there.

Cleaning pigeons droppings from the roof is dangerous work.

When I slipped there, I swear I thought I was going to fall.

Good job it was only my brush that fell and not me!

I hope it didn't hit anyone on the way down.

Just to be sure, I wave to the folks in the courtyard and yell "Sorry!"

I'm rewarded with a series of thumbs up from those in the courtyard.

Good.

I'd have hated to have hurt anyone.

Those are my people - I have a duty to them.

I climb down from the ladder, pick up the brush and thrust it into Bagour's hands. Without another look at him, I walk off into the castle.

I've got a coronation to organise.

I bid Bagour farewell and, just to be on the safe side, I remove him as spymaster. He can offer all the platitudes that he wants, but the man's a menace.

I know what you're all thinking - "this is the part where the ruler of Suenik indulges in some sadistic whim and feeds Bagour to the pirañas or throws him down a well or something".

No.

Suenik has had enough of that nonsense.

I want to build a legacy that will last the test of time. A firm foundation for future generations that will see the kingdom of Suenik become a respected and serious player in the region. I want my people to be healthy, wealthy and safe.

Speaking of which, the first item on the agenda following the coronation is a marriage. However, unlike other rulers who see marriage as an excuse to land them a pretty piece of arm-candy, or a chance to get a claim on a rival's territory, I'm going to put the well-being of all the people of the realm above my own satisfaction.

The biggest threat to Suenik right now is the Mongols. They are parked right on our door step, and history has proven that our armies are no match for theirs. Therefore, I have my scribes send my glad tidings to the Middle Kingdom.

My duty is to cement my dynasty and protect my people. Personal happiness? Completely secondary. People talk about the divine right to rule, without mentioning the fact that it comes with an equally divine duty to the people that you're ruling.

Speaking of which, Bagour has made a complete pig's ear of my demesne. I'll give the man the benefit of the doubt - he was fighting a major war and putting down revolts for years - but none the less, I have far too many titles and responsibilities to manage effecitvely.

I look around for capable men, and find one in my bastard uncle Reinhard. Don't let the German name fool you - Reinhard has recently declared himself to be fully and properly Armenian. That, however, doesn't bother me. He's loyal, he's capable and he's family - conceits of wedlock aside. He will be perfect to help me shoulder my burden of rulership.

The weeks rush by, and before I know it my wedding is here. As celebrations go, it is extravagant, and the day passes in a whirlwind of platitudes, praise and well-wishes from the great and the good of the land.

I, however, ignore all this pomp and pageantry. Afterwards people talk about my noble bearing and cool composure, but they have me all wrong. I am simply not paying attention to the swirl of courtly window dressing that surrounds me.

I only have eyes for my new wife, Checheyigen.

She is simply...incredible. I went into this marriage simply hoping for a period of peace and security for the kingdom, but here I have found something far more. My new queen - this shy, demure creature - is far more than her unassuming manner suggests. Other kings simply want a woman who will bear them children, but I have found something far better.

My queen will be my partner in rulership.

My equal.

Together, we will forge ideas that will chart the course of this nation's destiny.

She is incredible.

Inspired, I put pen to paper and start chronicling the new history of Suenik. I have no doubt that in the future my reign will be seen as the start of something great - something momentous. If I can do my part to help future scholars then so be it.

The weeks pass so quickly. Checheyigen fills my every moment with joy. I sit and listen - rapt - as she tells me of her people and her culture. The Mongols are far more than the marauding barbarians that we paint them as. I now have a finer appreciation for my wife's people, and I am grateful for it.

She is incredible.

What is also incredible is the announcement that the Necropolis of Suenik is finally completed!

The opening ceremony is slightly awkward as we all stand around and talk about the majesty of this "new" building...which we all know has been in use for at least as long as I have been alive. As we tour it, we casually ignore the three kings already interred there.

None the less, it is a good time to be alive. I make good on my promise to the common people of the land, and I spend time - advised by Checheyigen of course - working to improve their lot, and it shows.

No wars or glory seeking - my rule is all about peace, prosperity and justice.

Therefore, when Mayor Hethum behaves like an animal at my winter feast, I have him imprisoned.

Right to rule does not equate to tyranny. My lords would do well to remember this.

Checheyigen's philosophy of "leading by example" appears to be paying off, and I find that Duke Ishkan appears to be following not only my example, but that of his illustrious ancestor, the beatified Duke Neresh who so recently - and tragically - left us. By helping out the common people of the land, they pass on some of that profits to us.

I also seek to put an end to the atmosphere of conspiracy and deceit that Bagour and his ilk seemed to take such delight in fostering. Rather than having my enemies killed in spectacular, elaborate and painful ways, I simply move them to where they can no longer cause me problems.

All this busy work though... It seems to be taking its toll on me.

Nehilai - ever serious, and ever practical - suggests that I take things easy.

Checheyigen assures me that if things become too difficult for me she will happily run things in my absence. Now, I know what you're all thinking "Here comes the black widow - ready to take everything from poor Grigor." Dispel that thought! My incredible queen is not some Suenikian harpy, with a lust for power and wealth. She is a noble, kind soul with the best interests of the kingdom - and her husband - at heart.

I'm thankful for such a companion, when life decides to make it quite clear to me a few days later that I'm perhaps not following Nehilai's "taking it easy" instructions as closely as I should.

I can take a hint.

I retire to the royal bedchambers where Checheyigen and I commission some upgrades to the Necropolis to bring further glory to our kingdom...

...and then celebrate our hardwork in spectacular style.

Unfortunately, this really doesn't seem to agree with me...

...and Nehilai comes to me with some spectacular bad news.

Yes.

I know what you're thinking (I say that a lot, don't I?).

Consumption - the bane of Suenik.

Consumption - the disease that cuts through our rulers like a hot knife through butter.

Consumption - the universal equaliser.

Relax.

I don't have consumption.

OH COME ON! Are we looking at another "mayfly" king? Does Checheyigen really have the best interests of the realm at hand? Will all Grigor's hard work and struggles be for naught? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 49 - THE KARMIC WHEEL TURNS
(1258-1264)​

Thankfully for me - and Suenik - my erstwhile physician Nehilai knows exactly what to do about my pneumonia. As I sit and listen to his treatment plans, he explains that he came up with this idea many years ago when my mother was regent. He chuckles slightly as he fishes around in a box looking for the components needed to hopefully improve my (phlegmy) condition. I ask what is so funny, and he waves a hand saying that I was a child at the time, so I probably won't appreciate just how amusing and ironic what he's about to produce is. Apparently, I should just think of it as "good Armenian folk medicine."

I don't get it.

It's horrible.

But, on the other hand, it DOES seem to make me feel better.

Thankfully, my horrible condition aside, Suenik itself seems to be doing well. My ambitious plans to improve, well, EVERYTHING seems to be proceeding well.

However, as surely as the sun rises in the east, and as surely as the karmic wheel turns, great fortune in Suenik is swiftly followed by some mind numbing incompetence.

Yes - my steward only thinks to tell me about the repairs needed in the castle AFTER the invites to esteemed guests have gone out. I guess that's where the new funds are going then...

Thankfully, this swing of misfortune is followed by the most joyous news I've ever had.

I'm a father! Gadar, my little bundle of joy! My - literal! - little princess!

The dynasty is saved!

The succession is stable!

I rush into see my incredible, perfect wife. People will write about this in years to come; the fact that she came from the east - like a ray of light from the sun itself - and touched a kingdom in need with her gentle, beatific manner. They'll talk about how she advised me, how she looked after me in my time of need and, most importantly of all, how she saved a flagging lineage from potential extinction. They'll write about her beauty, her grace, her intelligence...

...and the fact that she died in childbirth.

Wait...

WHAT????

I drop to my knees, heedless of the midwives and servants around me and clutch her to my breast. I turn my tear-streaked face to the heavens and yell "OH COME ON!" at the top of my lungs.

My world is crushed.

My will is shattered.

My wife - my perfect, beautiful wife has gone; taken cruelly in her prime by an uncaring, unloving world.

Never will I again know her touch.

Never again will I hear her sweet, gentle voice.

I am alone.

I can feel the darkness closing in around me - a Stygian mantle of horror that I will wear as a mantle.

Nevertheless, I am the king of Suenik.

I must go on.

If my destiny is to share my throne with no one, then so be it. I will bear this weight solemnly and with dignity. It is mine and mine alone to carry. My people shall see me for the noble spirit I am - bowed but unbroken. They will see their king carry on in a manner that is both sorrowful, yet committed. Yes, a little bit of light has died in our realm, but I shall carry a torch for my people. I shall...

...wait.

Why is my chancellor beckoning me like that?

He's pointing to the map, specifically at the large part labelled "HERE BE MONGOLS".

Now he's drawing his finger across his throat.

How odd.

Oh, wait.

Now, he's holding his hand above his neck, and he's dropped his head to a funny angle, has let his tongue fall out of his mouth, is standing on his tip-toes and making "ACK!" noises.

Ah.

Got it.

With my wife dead, what of the non-aggression pact with the Mongols...

Well, let's have a suitable period of mourning. We can send off for another imperial bride. She won't be as perfect as my dear, departed Checheyigen, but the safety of my people is the important thing here, not my happiness.

See what I mean?

No-one will ever hold a candle to Checheyigen, my flawless angel who gave her life that another could live. Nay - who gave her life so that a DYNASTY could live.

How noble!

How selfless!

I shall never forgot her!

The flame that burns in my heart for her is a blazing inferno that none shall ever quench!

Our love shall be immortalised for eternity!

Bards shall sing of our love, and poets will compose tragic, purple verse littered with the details of our lives. The moments cherished, the love lost, the beauty sundered...

I shall...

...LOVE YOU FOREVER BULUNGHAN, YOU ARE PERFECT! NONE SHALL EVER UNSEAT THE ROARING PASSION THAT DEFINES OUR RELATIONSHIP! UNITED - AT LAST - WITH MY PERFECT SOUL MATE, FOREVER!

*ahem*

Meanwhile, in what seems to be a grand tradition for births, marriages, deaths and divorces in Suenik, wild raiders from abroad decide to descend and show their good will.

The only trouble is that their definition of "good will" is usually less about gifts, presents and well-wishing, and more about raping, pillaging and generally setting things on fire.

Being in such a good mood after spending so much time with my OH SO PERFECT WIFE I chow down on some burnt cat to keep the pneumonia at bay and lead my men out to put the horse folks to the sword.

This becomes a feature over the next decade or so. No matter how many I kill they just keep springing back up. Like the heads of an intently annoying and slightly horsey hydra. At least when the Mongols come they come in force...

Did I tell you that my wonderful, astounding wife is a Mongol? She's truly incredible.

Unfortunately, we have another turn of the karmic wheel. As we are winding up our battle against the raiders, one of my commanders comes to me in tears. At first I mistake this for trauma, and go to embrace him, but then it appears that he has been trying really, REALLY hard to refrain from bursting into a weeping, sobbing fit of giggles. I ask why and, amid a wheezing, gasping fit that makes me think that he might, at any moment, have a stroke, he manages to convey that my erstwhile physician Nehilai, whilst amazing at manufacturing medical supplies out of recently barbecued felines, also happens to embody that ineptitude so typical of Suenikians when it coems to warfare.

It's tragic, but also highly comic at the same time. I let my men see my weep. It does a lot to humanise me in their eyes. I just don't tell them the tears are tears of laughter.

When we return home, I send forth the messengers to fetch a new physician. Given some of the cranks Suenik has seen in the past, I am pleasantly surprised by the leading candidate.

I'm also extra specially pleased when he gives me the once over and declares me fit and healthy once more!

It's probably the overwhelming, smothering love that I'm feeling at the moment that's helped me.

To celebrate, I do two things. Firstly, I deal with someone who has been plotting my demise in the most peaceful, humane way I know how...

And secondly, deciding that nothing says "I'm here and I intend to make things happen!" like a ruddy great set of armour set with precious metals and jewels, I commission a "well done; you beat pneumonia" present for myself.

Master Vachagan proves not only to be a master craftsman, but also extremely keen to pass on some of his knowledge to my daughter.

Which would be fine, but she's er...barely three years old, so I'm not sure quite what she's learning.

In fact, it appears that asking a tiny child to stoke the bellows in the forge isn't exactly top-notch health and safety...

Thankfully, master Vachagan more than redeems himself with the quality of his work and I don't have to reopen the piraña pools! I will truly bring glory to the realm the next time ride into battle against the horse lords! My glittering presence will fill my enemies with awe, the same way that I am when I gaze upon my radiant and beautiful wife.

Fun fact, about a minute after receiving my armour, I received a "Your lands are being pillaged by random barbarians who haven't yet got the message that you're going to slaughter them horribly..." Never have I been so happy to ride into battle!

Battle isn't the only way I bring glory upon the house of Gradman-Agbhania though. Remember the book that I started working on? Well, a few months it is finally finished! All those feverish hours spent in study and isolation, with only ink, parchment and an army of scribes for company have paid off!

I do, however, make a mental note to have words with the illiterate fool who put the title together as they clearly don't understand basic principles of grammar. Is this book about a single person???

Flush with pride, I order my masons to stick a great big tower on top of the necropolis. I intend to announce the publication of my groundbreaking work of historical genius as I literally stand on the backs of my ancestors that made this whole thing possible. And no, by "made this whole thing possible" I don't mean "died in rapid succession".

Things are going well.

Under my wise stewardship, the realm is flourishing...

...my council love me...

and my dear little daughter - the future queen of this land - is just a complete delight to be around!

I treasure my time with her, and just lose myself in the simple joy of play. She'll have plenty to worry about when she is older - for now let her run and laugh...just don't go lifting heavy things in the forge again!

However, by far the most important piece of good news I've received, is that the people have come to realise that I am not some malingering, arbitrary tyrant, prone to fits of pique and who regards their lives as worthless trinkets to be thrown away on a whim.

No.

They KNOW they can rely on me for peace, justice and security.

Life is good.

Will life remain good? Will the karmic wheel turn (again)? Why are the council not routinely trying to murder each other? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 50 - AN IMPORTANT VISITOR
(1264-1267)​

Everything is going smoothly.

I mean, just look at my amazing wife?

I believe the term is "an heir and a spare".

Wonderful news.

Not so wonderful is the news that the poor unfortunate souls who have had to call upon the charity of Mother Suenik to help them in their hour of need are finding the assistance offered somewhat lacking.

The is preposterous and cannot stand! I order at once that funds be freed up to correct this vile state of affairs. Following this, I make it quite clear to the heralds that they should proclaim that this generous gift comes, not from their king, but rather the REALM.

My nobles go wild and laud me as the wisest ruler since Artashes.

Which, if I take a quick flick through my history book, isn't saying much, but a compliment is a compliment I guess.

A few months later, the realm has another reason to celebrate as the latest royal princess is born - this time without the whole needlessly messy and traumatising oh-dear-your-wife-died-in-childbirth bit.

As I am celebrating this amazing news in the palace, I get word that one of my Greek subjects has decided to organise a little celebration of his own.

I ask my chancellor to point out where Tortosa is (assuming it was some place that Artashes aggressively tacked onto the kingdom...) and I'm reminded that it's better known by it's common name of Suenik-on-Sea. I roll my eyes and ask how long it will take to assemble my host and get them there (remembering some history lesson about "sterner stuff" needing to be borne in mind). My chancellor waves his hand dismissively. I'm not sure I like that - he's being awfully cavalier about the whole thing.

He then points out that the Knights Hospitiler are doing a pretty good job of sorting out the revolt for us.

Well, that was fortunate. Not only has it saved the realm a ton of money that can probably be spent on expanding the hospitals and alms houses, but it also spared thousands of Suenikian lives (although I will say a prayer for the nobles Knights Hospitiler who made the ultimate sacrifice for Suenik-on-Sea).

Flush with happiness, I have a little celebration of my own.

The next day, I have a change of heart about the hospitals and alm houses. Those poor sickies - God bless their souls - have already had a super generous hand out from yours truly. Generally speaking, they're fine! What Suenik really needs right now is a gentle and subtle reminder of just how incredible my wife - their queen - actually is!

Nine months later, this is demonstrably proven to be a good investment.

Now, the little lad's a bit sickly, but don't let that concern you. Suenik has some amazing hospita...ah...oh...wait...that statue...all the gold...

Bugger.

Best hope little Gurgen can hang on in their like the champ I know he is until we can refill the old coffers!

Stay strong, little guy!

The strangled cries of my son aside, things are going pretty well.

The realm is at peace.

The coffers are (slowly) filling.

The people are content.

The nobles are (suspiciously) quiet and at peace.

Nobody is trying to kill each other.

Bliss.

I'm therefore in a pretty zen state of mind when my chancellor comes rushing in looking flustered and worried and flapping a rather exotic looking scroll around. When I manage to calm the poor man down, I order some pomegranate wine for him and take the scroll from his shaking hands.

What could it say?

I mean...

It's not "bad-bad" right?

I wander back to the royal chambers and smile at my wife.

...it's just a visitor, right?

Just another dignitary.

It's not like they're going to spy on us or anything...

...and we've got our royal marriage with China, so there's no chance of anything bad happening.

Right?

She shrugs.

She's incredible...

Was it a good shrug or a bad shrug? What does the visit mean for Suenik? Will the royal marriage be the human shield that Grigor hopes? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 51 - THE WHITE HORSE
(1267-1273)​

As we nervously await the arrival of the Chinese emissary, I am busy fretting about how to make a good impression. My wife tells me to calm down, but I feel that I need more than her chirpy zeness - perfect as it is of course...

I need counsel.

Thankfully, Bagour, my former regent, advises me that he dealt with the Chinese all the time during my regency. In order to make the best impression, he advises that I procure certain fine silks and other accessories. Thus clad, when I greet the emissary, it will be in garb that reminds him of home.

With no better plan available, I thank him for his kind advice, and dispatch my servants to requisition the necessary accoutrements. Very soon, wearing a robe of finest Chinese silk and suitably attired to radiate the very spirit of royalty, I meet with the emissary.

Turns out that Bagour's advice is only partially correct. While these robes do indeed remind him of home, the funny shade of red that is marrying the emissary's otherwise serene features, and the frenzied garbling of the translators suggests that this is not necessarily a good thing.

Once things have calmed down a little bit, the emissary icily explains to me what China does to those that displease them.

I nod so furiously I think my head is going to fall off. Thankfully my incredible wife puts her hand over mine and smiles demurely at the emissary and explains that as a true daughter of the Middle Kingdom she would make sure that Suenik stays on the correct path, and that the errant servants who brought such crushing shame upon her poor, unfortunate, humble and easily led husband would suffer the fires of a thousand hells.

I'm not going to lie; her little speech got me uncharacteristically fired up...

Speaking of plaguing, after the emissary leaves, Suenik receives another visitor.

An old friend.

One that begins with the letter "C".

I HATE the thought of abandoning the common people, but I'm hoping that the money spent on hospitals and alms houses will go some way to alleviating their suffering.

Sevag, as if reading my thoughts, bounds over to me and assures me that, for a modest investment, he can make sure that the commoners who I am so desperately worried about are properly looked after.

He uses lots of big words that sound pretty fancy, so I agree to the plan. If it helps my people, it shall be so!

While Sevag is away, presumably spending my money to find a way to drive back Consumption, I turn my thoughts to more secular matters. There is another noble by the name of Kaisarios who I've had a bit of a long time feud with. The looks he has been giving my wife are, quite frankly, inappropriate, and I've seen him skulking around the royal apartments on occasion. My wife assures me that it's nothing to worry about. I'm not one to bear a grudge, so when the news comes to me that Kaisarios has decided to step into the light of the miasaphysite faith, I rejoice.

Perhaps he has chosen to give up his scheming ways? As a godly king, I choose to be the bigger man and I approach him in the spirit of friendship, proclaiming that as we are brothers in Jesus then so we shall be brothers on this earthly plain, and that all harsh words between us - words no doubt spoken in anger and which hold no true meaning - shall be forgotten, and that we shall move forward in lockstep together - in friendship and for the good of the realm.

He looks at me.

He raises an eyebrow.

The penny drops...

Of course...

This is Suenik...

He waltzes off chuckling, remarking that the Queen looked particularly hot when she met the Chinese emissary.

If I wasn't such a tolerant, kind soul I swear...

...no. Keep those impulses under control...

After a few weeks it becomes apparent that the Chinese were not messing around when it came to Byzantium, and I find myself staring accusingly at the pile of cast off silks that are abandoned in the corner of the royal bedchamber.

It also seems that the Empire has had a fairly drastic change of leadership.

I don't have time to fully take in the implications though, as I'm interrupted by a huffing and puffing Sevag who is waving a copy of a cheaply bound book in the air. He enters my chamber, bends over and tries to catch his breath. Between wheezing gasps he throws the book onto the table and flaps a hand in its direction while spluttering something about "good news". The cover says "Sevag's Big Book of Mystic Cure Alls" in gold leaf, but otherwise it is fairly unremarkable. The binding is shoddy, and the cover appears to be made of cheap hide. I take a flick through it. The text is in Sevag's cramped, spidery script. A lot of the words are misspelled. In fact, a lot of the words are nonsense.

I let the pages fall closed, subconsciously wiping my hands on my robe as if I've touched something dirty, and I turn to my Bishop who appears to have finally caught his breath. Jabbing a finger at the book I enquire as to what the good news is. Has he spent the money I invested wisely on a ground breaking medical treatise that will save the lives of the common people?

He mops his sweaty brow and shakes his head.

No.

Of course not.

Apparently the "good news" is that he made it back safely and convinced the guards at the gate to let him in.

Great.

With Sevag here we needn't worry about Consumption taking any of us, I'm sure.

It turns out that Consumption is the least of our worries...

It turns out that if your name begins with "Va..." and you wear your hair in a style that can only be described as "greying-matronly-spinster-aunt" you're a complete glutton who selfishly puts his needs above those of his fellow man.

I order the reprobates thrown into the dungeon and I advise everyone else to tighten their belts.

It's events like these that teach me that I have to take a firmer hand with my subjects.

My new, sterner attitude is clearly a hit with the ladies.

BAH! I'm already married to the vision of perfection. A loyal, beautiful, smart and kind woman - what need have I for wenches? I ignore the lustful harlot.

Besides, I have graver matters on my mind. Dear Mira, my second born daughter, is afflicted with the disease that has become known as "rulers' bane" here in Suenik.

I yell for Sevag to attend my daughter and then collapse into an agonised, choking heap.

Thankfully, we have the good fortune to be in the presence of the finest medical mind in Armenia - an acclaimed author (and spender of my money) no less. Other rulers would be expecting - as they clutched one hand to their chest and the other towards the sky in an agonised rictus - their court physician to appear at their side with balms, potions and poultices.

Not me.

Instead, I've got Sevag capering around the room with a lizard on a piece of string.

In Greece, they've got esteemed physicians who are refining techniques that have been proven over hundreds of years.

I've got an idiot with a pet gecko.

Called Gurgen.

Yes - that is the name of my son.

To make a point, a batter the lizard to death with a chamber pot.

Oddly enough, I don't feel any better.

Sevag - slightly dismayed, and cradling a crushed and leaking Gurgen (the gecko, not the boy!) in his arms - huffily points out that I needn't be such a bitch, just because I've contracted Rulers' Bane.

If I was feeling more myself we'd have a long discussion about bedside manner, but instead I simply dismiss him. Hobbling back to my bedroom, I find my wife in a state of shock. She's holding a scroll delivered by a messenger. I ask her what it's about and when she looks up at me I can see tears streaking her cheeks.

Through my hacking, wheezing coughs I try to offer what approximates a comforting smile. After all, you know what they say - there's always someone else worse off than you.

Is that actually something "they" always say? Will Grigor's words come back to haunt him? Is Consumption going to sweep through the castle like the Mongols did in Byzantium? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded.

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 52 - MANGYSHLAK! ER...BLESS YOU?
(1273-1275)​

Urgh.

I feel awful.

Sevag assures me he can help with this, and that he has an "Ancient Greek cure all" that he's going to try. Apparently it worked wonders back in Artashes' day, and I'll be back to my old self in no time at all. His enthusiastic - almost demented - grin does nothing to convince me there's any veracity to his overwhelming confidence.

*cough*

I'm even less convinced when he places a bag that appears to be wriggling down onto the table and whacks it with a heavy-duty mason's hammer.

The wet splattering sound it makes turns my stomach and necessitates a dash to the privy to throw up, but achieves precious little else.

Two hours of being basted in toad-juice later, and I'm interrupted in the business of drying myself off by a rather excited chancellor who claims that he's found a musty old document that proves Suenik's true dominion over some random horse lord's land to our east.

I thank him for this, and order the necessary preparations.

*cough*

Now, I know what you are thinking? Why am I acting like this? After all, aren't I meant to be busying myself with improving the lot of the realm, and not squandering lives on frivolous foreign adventures?

*cough*

I promised that many years ago, didn't i?

Bear with me - there's some logic at work here. You see - everyone in the kingdom is terribly, terribly, TERRIBLY down in the dumps, what with the annual visit of our good ol' friend Consumption, so I need something to distract the masses from the piles of bodies being burnt in the streets. Therefore, what better way to draw their attention than by a good ol' foreign war. That way, we can even get a load of them out of the country whilst consumption runs its course.

That way, it'll stop them getting nonsensical ideas into their heads that result in them burning down churches because of cat-related heresy or some other such idiocy.

Plus, it's suitable payback for all those times I've been raided by the horse people.

What?

Stop looking at me like that...

*cough*

I'm on my way back to the bed chambers to lie down after all the excitement of launching my first invasion, when I catch sight of my beautiful, amazing and wonderful wife, and it's at that point that I realise that I've forgotten something. I thrust a finger into the air, wave sheepishly at her and scurry back to my commanders.

Very soon, a mighty host is raised. I don't feel the need to call on my vassals just yet, and before we know it, the men are off to Mangyshlak (with a brief stop over to butcher some of the interminable raiders that plague my lands on the way - you know what they say about practice).

I, however, am not going with them. "Mangyshlak" pretty much sounds like the noise I'm making every time I stop to cough - which is every few minutes these days.

*cough*

As I'm waiting to receive word of the crushing victory my forces have inflicted on the Khan of Mangyshlak, I get some good news - the statue that I commissioned has now finally finished.

However, this creates a dilemma for me.

*cough*

Who do I name it after? On one hand, I commissioned it after my first wife - who was perfect, angelic and fabulous - but, on the other hand, my second wife is also wonderful, demure and incredible. The good news is, Suenikian craftsman are so shoddy that it'll bear enough of likeness to whomever I eventually decide to name it after. At the moment, "generic female ruler statue" will have to do.

*cough*

Elsewhere, it appears that the good people of Novogorod may soon be having some rather irate visitors.

Honestly, these folks need to learn the value of a good, royal marriage!

Months pass, and my forces finally arrive in the lands of our lifelong ancestral foes the Mangyshlak...er...ians and win a victory that will be sung of for centuries to come.

I don't let the fact that some wits are referring to the "Light skirmish of Buzachi" put me off.

A win's a win, right?

*cough cough*

Eventually though, these hawks get their way, and my army makes contact with the main *cough cough cough* Mangyshlakian force.

With odds like that this will be over in no time (although I make a mental note to have words with my commanders about the five thousand or so men that appear to have sloped off between the campaign being launched and this battle).

Ah - yes.

This is Suenik.

Of course the Khan of the Mangyshlakians and his two sons are built like complete beasts and are capable of defeating my armies single handedly, whilst all my good generals are locked up in their castles hiding from consumption.

*cough cough*

The battle report makes for particularly interesting reading. Despite the slaughter of Suenik's finest, I'm utterly fascinated by the lone peasant spearman who enthusiastically joined the Mangyshlakian host on their march to war and end up dying for the cause.

Right. Forces in full retreat. Time to call up the vassals and see if we can salvage this.

*cough cough cough*

Oddly enough, after reading the battle report, I see all my councillors standing around, almost as if they are listening for something.

I ask them what they are waiting for, but when I hear the pathetic death rattle from down the corridor I immediately get it.

That's right - they were waiting for the NEXT bit of bad news to hit...

This is Suenik and all that jazz...

*cough cough cough cough*

I rush to my wife's bedside, yelling for Sevag and praying to the Almighty for salvation. Showing devotion like I've never done before, I beg for a sign from Above that everything is going to be ok.

OH COME ON!

*cough cough cough*

That has to be a coincidence, right?

*cough*

Sevag punched me on the arm, mutters something about "best of three" and winks but I ignore him. Why is this happening? I have tried to be pious all of my life - I've given to charity, I've improved the lot of the unfortunate and I've earnestly tried to put the good of the kingdom above that of everyone else. Surely in this, my hour of need, all that good work should bear fruit?

As I'm contemplating this, Duke Vahan chooses to pass away to Consumption in a manner that, given my current mood, kind of feels like he's showing off...

Given that his father received the same honour, I'm beginning to wonder whether the Duchy of Agbhania might be contributing to the Patriarch's Caspian Sea holiday retreat that's currently being built.

*cough cough*

Sulkily I return to the bed chambers where my wife, it turns out, isn't quite as bed ridden as Sevag suggested.

A few weeks later and it's my daughter's birthday. It appears that she has chosen to follow that path in life favoured by all Suenikian women.

As a birthday gift, my vassals finally get their act together and start conquering the lands of the Mangyshakians.

It turns out, it's pretty easy as long as their armies aren't around. At least this little distraction gives my main force time to "tactically regroup" (or, to put it another way, "stop running in fear").

Still, this is Suenik, and for every tiny victory, there is a great, big punch in the cock waiting in the wings.

Thanks Reinhard. Just when all my armies are away you decided to make the consumption-ridden and extremely unhappy peasants even unhappier to the point where they're ready to rise up and burn the whole place to the ground...

*cough cough cough*

Thankfully, the peasants' hearts simply aren't in it, and no revolt ever surfaces.

Months pass, battles are won, bodies are burned, but finally I get some truly joyous news.

19

This is fantastic.

*cough*

Not as fantastic as, say, consumption vanishing from the realm and never coming back...

*cough cough*

...but pretty fantastic none the less. I am very happy.

*cough cough cough*

Once myself an Bulughan are better we'll have a proper celebration.

*cough cough cough cough*

We're both pretty under the weather right now...

*cough cough cough cough cough*

But once this is passed, we'll have the biggest party the realm has ever seen! We'll properly celebrate Gadar's birthday...

*cough cough cough cough cough cough*

...we'll laurel the heroes of Mangyshlak, and we'll do it all in the shadow of the statue of generic female ruler that I'll boldly name after Bulughan.

*cough cough cough cough cough cough cough*

It'll be amazing. I'll stop worrying about my piety, and I'll simply give thanks for the good life I have right now, and all the joy it brings me. Because, consumption aside, life is pretty g...

*cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough*

ACK.

*THUD*

How will King Gurgen fare? Will he have a raving psychopath determined to ruin the kingdom as his regent? Will Consumption ever get bored of killing Suenikian monarchs? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 53 - THAT'S WEIRD
(1275-1280)​

Hi everyone. My name is King Gurgen and all the grown ups tell me that now I'm in charge because my dad has passed away.

Apparently he wasn't very well.

Which worries me, because I'M not very well either.

Something called consumption.

Every time I ask what it is, the grown ups just cross themselves, make excuses and leave.

*cough*

Anyway, I've recently had a bunch of grown ups - my council apparently - telling me that I'm an amazing conqueror as my astute leadership has led us to victory over the heathen Mangyshlakers.

I don't know what a mangy shlaker is (some kind of sick dog maybe?) but the grown ups seem awful pleased with me.

Less pleased is someone called Marshal who seems really irate that "so many brave men had to give their lives" for what he's calling "that dead fool's vanity project".

I'm not sure what he's talking about or why he keeps yelling "fifteen thousand souls" and reaching up at an uncaring sky, but here we are.

*cough cough*

Anyway, I try and think of something kingly to do.

Apparently there's a big statue of a lady somewhere outside of the capital. I ask the grown ups if I'm rich, and lots of them are like "oh yes of course you are my little lord".

This makes me happy, so I order them to cover the lady statue in gold.

There are a few shocked looks but I tell them I'm the king and just to get on with it. Marshal screams something about "wasting money" and how it could have gone to "honouring the fifteen thousand noble dead" but I ignore him.

Apparently madness is quite common amongst my relatives.

What ISN'T common, is this.

5

Some of the grown ups are acting shocked - apparently I'm the first ever king of Suenik to do this.

Some seem disappointed too, which is strange.

One of those is my sister.

To cheer her up, I arrange a nice marriage for her to a cool knight guy.

It actually turns out that he's an extra cool knight guy, because to celebrate the wedding I'm given more money!

I plan some further statue related maintenance.

However, before I can put my plans into action there's a huge commotion in the castle. Grown ups are shrieking, and screaming and the phrase "BAR THE GATES! BAR THE GATES!" is spat out over and over again.

I ask Marshal what the fuss is about and he looks at me like I'm an idiot.

I'm not an idiot, I'm a child.

There's a difference.

He ruffles my hair, laughs and walks off.

Amidst this chaos, there is a messenger from a foreign court who slyly enquires if I'd like to marry off my mum to his king.

Certainly not! She's my mother! She's a pure and chaste soul - someone I can depend upon and trust, and who loyally stood by my father until he sadly passed away. She's a reminder, that even when everything else is going wrong, and all the other grown ups are losing their minds, that there is someone I can look up to as an example of how to behave properly.

I learned a new word today.

"Whore".

Apparently my mother is one of them - whatever that is.

I also heard other words thrown around like "disloyal", "cheating" and "skank".

Must be sure to ask Uncle Kaiserios what those mean next time he's around.

The following months trundle by REALLY slowly. It's amazing how BORING it is being cooped up with a stupid old plague outside.

Thankfully I've got some top notch advisors who are working tirelessly to sort things out.

Sevag's a man of God - he knows what he is doing. I tell him to go ahead.

Sadly, when the ash clears and the screaming stops, the plague still seems to be around.

Sevag assures me that "these things take time".

He also rubs his hands together gleefully and walks off cackling.

Must be a priestly thing.

I keep myself amused by ordering a hat to be built on the statue of the gold lady.

Some time passes and I'm on the verge of demanding that Sevag burn some more witches, as the last inferno hasn't seemed to sort anything out, when suddenly I'm aware of a horrible stench in the castle.

Or rather, more horrible that usual - our capital doesn't really smell nice at the best of times.

Disgusted, I order the guards to indulge in some target practice - that will learn the dirty ingrates down below!

As it turns out, the actions of my archers certainly got their attention.

Never mind, I'm sure that we can...what's that noise?

As this is going on there is a shriek and Marshal marches in and announces that my previous regent has met with an unfortunate accident and therefore, in this time of war, he will be taking over for the "duration of the emergency".

He's got a cool nickname so of course I agree.

Not that I have any choice in the matter, and I still think Marshal is kind of sneaky.

With the gentle background hum of the peasantry being slaughtered, I receive more proof of Sevag's bone-fide miracle worker credentials.

I invite him to fire up the old pyres and treat himself to a good old burning.

He's earned it.

Meanwhile, mother seems to be getting on everyone's nerves again.

I have since learned what all those interesting words used about her meant, so when another suitor comes a-calling mother dearest is packing her bags for Horse Land.

I also find myself a sister short in what can only be described as the most brutally disgusting way to go.

Sevag, in a rare moment of clarity, pleads with me not to view the body. The term "sanity blasting" is used.

This death leaves a lot of people worried. They're concerned that the plague may be spreading within the castle itself.

I'm not worried though.

I've got the constitution of an ox.

I beat consumption!

The first king in Suenik's history to do so, and soon I'll be old enough to sit on the throne...no, maybe that's not the most tasteful metaphor...

Soon, I will be old enough to rule alone, and I'll have bards sing songs of my glorious constitution all across the land.

That will settle everyone down.

It will be amazing.

Not long to go now.

Urgh.

I'm not one to believe in jinxes...but....

What is wrong with Gurgen? What of the hat on the statue? Will the rebels be crushed? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 54 - WHAT'S A YERSHIG?
(1281 - 1283)​

The pain I'm feeling is excruciating, and sleep does not come easily.

Finally though, I start to drop off...

...only to be woken by Patriarch Sevag running around my room, whacking a chamber pot with a wooden spoon and yelling in a language that isn't Armenian.

I fix him a stare which I hope conveys my extreme displeasure, to which he drops the pot and spoon, before rushing over to my bedside with a demented grin on his face.

He kneels and pinches both my cheeks, before ruffling my hair and guffawing.

I narrow my eyes and ask what is so funny.

"Great news, sire!" he screeches. "My prayers were heard! You don't have the plague!"

He leaps to his feet and makes jazz hands in my direction, before running in circles on the spot and making little whooping sounds.

I rub the back of my neck and allow myself a little smile.

First I beat consumption, now I avoid the plague.

It's like I'm untouchable.

I start to laugh, then to cry and, before I know it, my tears are coming in great, gasping sobs. Sevag suddenly stops his strange dance, rushes over to my side and holds a finger to my lips and shakes his head.

I put my arms around him and hug him tightly. He pats my back and whispers something in my ear...

I look at him incredulously, the tear burning on my cheeks.

Suddenly the pain under my arms is incredible - unbearable almost - and I cry out in agony.

Sensing the mood, he quickly explains his treatment plan.

My eyes narrow and I look him up and down...

Yes - I very much need a new physician. This clown has wasted too much of my time.

Unfortunately, as I wait for my new physician, the need for a second opinion becomes completely moot.

As I'm lying in my stinking bed chamber, slowly rotting away, a herald comes in bearing something that he assures me is good news. The timing, as always, is perfectly Suenikian.

Oh well, at least I'll have the swankiest burial any Suenikian monarch has ever had...

*THUD*

Wow - can someone open some windows in this place?

It smells like England in here.

Hi, I'm QUEEN Gadar - recently queen consort of England, and can I tell you this, when I heard I was going back to the motherland my first thought was "Brilliant - some decent weather" and my second thought was "No more hiding out in draughty, wet castles trying to avoid the plague."

And yet, I turn up to this shit show.

Urgh.

It's disgusting.

The first thing I do (other than screaming at all the ladies in waiting to assert my dominance) is to relocate to another part of a castle. Making a bedroom that was previously a teenage boy's your own is bad enough in the first place, but it's doubly bad when the little sod has basically died in an explosion of blood, pus and diarrhea!

I order everything in his room to be burnt and for the chambers to be repurposed as sleeping quarters for visiting English dignitaries.

Anyway, England...

Urgh.

That was a drag.

So, my idiot brother - may he rest in peace - marries me off to the King of that dank, wet little island. Being the mountain of fertility that I am, I pop out an heir in no time at all. Which was fortunate, because my pathetic, weak husband chose that moment to inconveniently DIE OF THE PLAGUE.

So my tiny, tiny daughter is now Queen of England, and I was resigned to an existence as some kind of pathetic old dowager - alone in my castle, wearing black, and trying to content myself with the awful excuses for food and drink they have over there. Seriously - never go there. The food is all stodgy and flavourless, and they don't have any wine. Apparently even grapes are put off by the climate.

Anyway, all of a sudden - BOOM! - I'm Queen of Suenik, and heading back home; but unfortunately, my daughter is also heir to MY throne.

Not happy about that.

I'm also not happy that I'm betrothed to some rando relative of my late husband. This means that top of Gadar's Big Old List of Things to Do (right next to "Not dying of the plague") is getting myself a proper husband. If I wait for this mewling brat to grow up I'll be a grey haired old crone by the time he comes of age.

Thankfully, China does an excellent job of reminding me where my next husband should come from.

It helps that Suenik has been a pathetic shilll for the Middle Kingdom for the past hundred years or so, because we've got grace to burn with the Emperor.

To celebrate the royal wedding, I send my steward forth to collect tribute from those peasants that are still alive. It's here that I get my first taste of Suenik in all its glory.

On one hand, the peasants love their new queen and eagerly pay the wedding tax...

...and on the other hand they've got some fairly colourful ideas about what is causing the plague.

No, it's not cats this time...

Unlike my predecessors who indulged this sort of nonsense I just ignore them. The bleating of the unwashed masses is not something a queen need heed.

Instead, I apply some SCIENCE to the problem, and try to fight this epidemic the best way I know how - by throwing cash at it.

Naturally, this peasants respond to this show of concern in the way that only peasants from Suenik can.

Ungrateful wretches.

I send my armies out to butcher them, and lock myself in the royal pantry to comfort eat until I am contented and numb. Armenian food is SOOOOO good. Damn, I've missed this...

After a few hours, there is a knock at the door and that skinny wretch that I married is standing there looking worried. He informs me - in his terrible, halting Armenian - that perhaps I shouldn't be eating so much.

I hurl a flat bread at him and slam the door in his face.

I'm queen! I'll eat what I want.

That evening I have a brace of pheasant for dinner and wash it down with a gallon of wine.

After a few weeks of this, I have some special gowns made for me. Now nobody can deny my royal presence as I sweep into rooms and take command of situations! I truly am a magnificent figure of womanhood!

That night in bed, Khagati tells me meekly that some of my ladies in waiting have been referring to me as "The Royal Battle Barge". I laugh loudly - cake crumbs spraying from my mouth all over the sheets as I do - and tell him I'll wear that as a badge of honour. I make a mental note to have a special sash made saying "ROYAL BATTLE BARGE" picked out in gold leaf.

A few weeks later Sevag - my Patriarch - comes bounding into the Royal Audience chamber. For some reason he's wearing a hat made of fruit. He tells me that he has a request for me, but that he can only tell me it in the form of a riddle. I sigh, roll my eyes, cram another slice of yershig into my mouth and hold up my hand for silence. With my other hand I grab my goblet of pomegranate wine and messily chug it down. As my serving boy faithful refills it, I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my dress, jab the remains of my yershig in Sevag's direction and ask him if this is, perchance, a request for money.

He nods so hard I think his head is going to fall off. I flick my fingers towards the door and tell him that he can have his money, but that he should be gone as I'm busy. As he's leaving, he looks imploringly at the half-eaten sausage that I'm holding. Absentmindedly, I toss it in his direction and he leaps to catch it in his mouth like a dog going after a treat. Chuckling, I take another yershig from the basket next to me and carry on munching.

Time passes, and then some good news.

I order a celebration. The filthy rebels have been crushed by the might of Gadar the Magnificent! My council suggest that I should maybe hold fire on the banquet I've ordered, until rebel sentiment across the country has cooled. After all, they explain, inviting the nobility to a sumptuous feast whilst hundreds are dying in poverty is hardly a tactful move, and could be the spark that turns an otherwise volatile situation into a raging inferno.

I'm puzzled, and I point out that I haven't ordered any banquet. My steward speaks up and indicates that the royal kitchens have been working overtime, and that the Great Hall is filled with tables that are creaking under the weight of all the rich dishes that have been prepared.

I laugh, and point out that what he's seen isn't some lavish banquet for the great and the good of the land.

It's lunch.

For me.

What a silly sausage he is.

Mmm.

Sausage...

I hope they have prepared more yershig.

After a couple of hours feasting, I summon my husband to the royal bed chambers and indulge in my second favourite hobby.

Inheritance problem?

Pah.

Nailed it.

Will the inheritance problem be solved? Will Gadar eat Suenik into a famine? Are the peasants still angry? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded!

 

[iain_a_wilson]

SUENIK RELOADED
CHAPTER 55 - CAN YOU LOT KEEP IT DOWN OUT THERE?
(1283 - 1286)​

Now that I'm pregnant I can take my mind off the day to day, omnipresent problems that are inherent in running Suenik.

I tell my skinny little husband that he's in charge for the duration. The kingdom can wait - I've got more important things on my mind.

One of my ladies in waiting - a simpering girl by the name of Yeva - nods furiously in agreement, and opines that men have no idea of the magical sensations that come with pregnancy. She also adds - with the self-confidence that only truly comes when one is wilfully ignorant of a subject - that I will need all my energy to focus on positive thoughts that will help the baby grow and thrive.

I laugh harshly and throatily, before asking Yeva if she's ever experienced the "magic" of childbirth herself. She shakes her head, and states proudly and wistfully that she is yet to be "blessed". Smirking, I point out that the only sensations that are in any way magical in the whole uniquely painful and dangerous process of childbirth come right near the beginning, and any thoughts I'll be channeling will be along the lines of "PLEASE LET IT BE A BOY PLEASE LET IT BE A BOY PLEASE LET IT BE A BOY..."

When I see how crestfallen she is, I put my arm around her and offer this blushing maid some of my assuredly valuable insights into the whole messy, dangerous business of childbirth. After a few uses of words such as "tear" and "split" she remembers some other pressing duties that she has to attend.

Bless her soul.

A few months later, I get world that some wonderful, proactive souls are refusing to let the small matter of the plague get in the way of them running a profitable business. Naturally, this is Suenik, so it goes without saying that said business is almost entirely detrimental to me.

I dispatch my marshal - a handsome, dark-eyed devil known as "the wolf" - after the vagabonds, and a few weeks later he sweeps into the throne room - cloak billowing voluminously behind him - before dropping to one knee in front of me, bowing his head and proffering a large, wooden box.

"A humble gift, for my magnificent queen" he whispers in his low, gravelly voice.

I clap my hands excitedly like a giddy maiden before holding the rotten, stinking head up for all to see. There's a fluttering of applause, and I throw the head to Skinny. He yelps, as some fluid splashes him in the face, but I ignore this and tell him that, as regent, the duty falls to him to ensure that this wondrous trophy is given pride of place on a spike over the gate.

I turn back to Baron Kubasar, lean forward as far as my vast, unstable bulk allows, and whisper "And how shall your queen reward you?"

I flutter my eyelashes in what I assume is a beguiling manner, but before I can speak my chancellor bursts into the throne room, with a panicked look on his stupid, ruddy face and he starts shrieking out grim tidings in his high-pitched, irritating voice.

Without so much as a word from me, the Wolf gets to his feet, takes my hand in his, kisses it and growls "Your will be done, my queen".

Before I can simper a reply, he throws his scarlet cloak over one shoulder, and strides manfully from the throne room yelling "PREPARE MY MEN! SADDLE THE HORSES! WE RIDE AT DAWN."

I look sideways at Skinny - who is still staring in horror at the rotting head in his hands - and hiss "Learn!"

I spend the next few days eagerly awaiting the Wolf's return, and hoping for another one of his thoughtful, unconventional and slightly gory presents, when I get news that the local peasantry are still up in arms that I wouldn't approve their "Burn-a-Jew-to-Prevent-the-Plague" scheme.

I shovel down another handful of oily eggplant stew before summoning my chancellor and dictating a pointedly worded massive that I order to be distributed throughout the kingdom which basically states "I'm the bloody queen, so kindly stop thinking that you filthy, unwashed, goat-bothering peasants know any better.

A few months later - presumably after someone has translated it for the stupid, thickheaded serfs who can't read - I find out that my new hardline stance has not exactly gone down a a treat.

Fuck.

I petulantly waddle off to angrily give birth.

I also invite Yeva along "for the experience".

The poor girl goes very pale after a couple of hours, and faints dead away half way through the eighth hour.

Turns out, after twenty hours of pushing, wailing, screaming and tearing, I only end up with another wretched, mewling daughter.

It's at this time - when I'm lying on my back exhausted, bloody, disappointed and sore - that Skinny decides to come begging for cash to fund a new hobby that he's become obsessed with.

I buy him an unclean and hateful looking buzzard called "Claw", whose penetrating, soulless eyes seem to covet Skinny's very soul. He runs off to try and train his new bird, and the terrifying, humiliating screams I hear from the castle's courtyard make me feel like the few ducats I spent on Claw were a good investment.

Sadly though, ducats are not something I have to spare these days, as it seems that the devastation caused by the plague has closed down that sweet, sweet gold pipeline that I believe others call The Silk Road.

9

My stormy mood is somewhat brightened by news that The Wolf has brought one group of rebels to heel.

He's such a staunch, stalwart leader, that I decide to throw the weight of my substantial patronage behind him to boost the morale of our hard-working troops.

Ballads are composed, songs are sung, and tankards are raised. Onwards sons of Suenik - to victory!

Sadly, this message doesn't go down too well in all quarters.

I order my marshal to take care of this rag tag band of rebels...and it's then that I realise that my heralds need some education on quantifying exactly what "more" means.

Off the back of putting down the other peasant revolts, my forces are scattered.

This being Suenik means that, naturally, the last event is merely the first shit-covered domino to fall in a succession of many...

Great.

People are running around screaming, and before long my Chinese honour guard usher me and my family to a covered wagon and explain that it's for our own safety. When I ask them what they mean - after all, that's my palace over there and I feel pretty bloody safe in it! - they adopt a very no-nonsense tone and tell me that someone will explain on the way.

The way?

The way to where?

Why are we leaving?

Why is there so much smoke on the horizon?

15

This is preposterous! Why is this happening? I demand answers! I sent the Wolf and his best men out after the rebels! Why have they failed me? Why are they so many bloody rebels? I want to know what is going on!

A few days later, I get them, as a delegation of someone calling himself the "Satrap of Suenik" comes to me to accept my terms.

Terms? What terms? I didn't agree to any terms! Before I can haul my massive, bloated body from my chair and start jabbing my podgy paws in the direction of this "Satrap" whilst hurling expletives, my advisors whisper to me that seeing as I don't have any forces to speak of any more, I should accept what they're proposing and count my blessings.

Furiously, and with a shaking hand, I sign their treaty.

The Satrap smiles a blackened, toothy grin and explains that he hopes that we can still be friends, and apologises for any confusion that may arise, as his satrapy will be using the same coat of arms as my - and here he uses air quotes - "kingdom". I flush furiously, but he laughs, waves a hand in my direction, says "We'll be back for that soon enough", before winking at me and striding from the room.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

I go to what I hope are my temporary accommodations and get very, VERY drunk. Skinny takes this as an excuse to try and plant an heir in me, which is nice of him considering the circumstances.

With my kingdom in ruins - through no fault of my own I might add - I settle down (albeit with a raging hangover) to decide what to do next.

With the war over, I can rebuild my forces now that there's no external threats to worry about and then plan our counter attack.

I notice as I say this that my advisors are all looking a bit sheepish - especially when I mentioned there were no threats to worry about. Not in the mood for any of their coy shit, I ask them to spit it out.

Oh great - they're still mad about me not behaving like a mental despot and burning down the synagogues, aren't they?

Will the peasants continue to revolt? How will Suenik rebuild? Will the Satrap continue to expand? Find out on the next exciting episode of Suenik Reloaded.