Hey folks, long time lurker, never poster here looking to peddle my fictional experience in CK2. Basic premise is one you've probably seen a hundred times before. Starting as Toumarche of Monemvasia, restore the Hellenic faith and if possible, reform it.
I will be using various mods but quality of life things, the game is still ironman compatible and I won't be using the console but i'm keeping Ironman off in the case of something totally immersion breaking happening. Let's hope not, yeah?
Full disclosure, I've played thousands of hours of CK2 and have had the game since just after launch but I still consider myself uniquely terrible at it. I won't be minmaxing or aiming for the perfect plays, I'm going to try to RP as much as possible with this.
Without further ado, I bid you welcome to...
Monemvasia is beautiful, an ancient fortress town built on a huge outcropping of stone in the southern Aegean. Some blessed soul a thousand years before had take a small fishing village and thought to himself, “This could be more.”
The keep had been raised against and in many parts into the sheer cliff and the small causeway linking it to the mainland had been secured. Anastosias liked to think that the ancient Spartan ruler of this island had been a paranoid man but had been nothing short of ingenious when it came to planning its defence.
The young Toumarches stepped back from the balcony of that same keep and watched as the sun settled low into the horizon. Eventually he tore himself away from the sight and continued along the stone cloistered hallways of the castle, aiming for the chambers where his councillors were waiting for him. Along the way he passed courtiers that bowed respectfully and servants that lowered their heads and never once deigned to look their way.
His wife, Euphrosyne, was a kind woman and fair minded but she often grew frustrated with Anastosias’ prideful demeanour and his lack of tact while holding court, bemoaning that he would rather play with his sword than play the part of Toumarches.
“They expected me to be my father,” he thought to himself ruefully.
Upon his father’s death at sea Monamvasia had undergone a great period of mourning and the whole area was shaken, Toumarches Alkian had been renowned as a great and fair ruler and he knew well that people were concerned he was but a shadow of their old lord.
Anastosias had spent much of his youth in the training yard with the soldiers or sealed in his room reading legends of the ancient Greeks, wild stories of Gods and Titans spurning him on as he cast himself in the role of Hercules or Achilles.
As he entered the chamber and the fading sunlight filtered into the room mingling with the flaming wall sconces he took his place at the head of the council table, ignoring his councilors grim faces.
“I’m sure you all have many grievances to air and issues to settle this evening but I’m afraid they will have to wait,” he said calm. “I find myself inspired, as if finally awoken after the slumber cast upon me by my dear father’s passing.”
“That is good news indeed, my liege,” the Chancellor, Theocharistos said cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”
“Long ago, my forefathers ruled these lands more directly as you know. Korinthos to our north was a powerful seat of our dynasty and I would see it finally returned to Klados blood.” he said, sitting back slightly in his chair and taking in the shocked silence.
“But, my liege…” Theoc started.
“Enough Theochristos. I am aware of the difficulties involved. I am sworn to Strategos Christophorous, that I cannot deny. Yet he holds lands and titles that our my family’s right by ancient tradition. Generations of stewdardship stripped away by a gilded man on a far away throne. You will go to Korinthos and find me a claim. A valid reason to take what is mine by strength of arms if need be.”
The chancellor looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I will do as you command, Anastosias,” he relented.
The young lord nodded in satisfaction and turned his attention to his marshal. “In preparation for this endeavor, Sabas, I need you to conscript men and train them in the art of war.”
Like the Chancellor, Sabas followed a different way. The way of the old gods. Though Anastosias loved the old tales and allowed his subjects to keep to their hellenic roots, he was aware of Sabas’… distaste towards anyone who followed the teachings of Christ.
“Your wish is my command,” he stated simply. In truth Sabas was a poor soldier and deceitful to boot but he had been his father’s marshal and until he could find a suitable replacement he was loathe to cause conflict in the council.
His steward was next. “Sebastianos. Raise the taxes, if we are to war on the Strategos we will need coin and much of it.” The fair haired man nodded in compliance and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I’m sure we can find something to increase the treasury, I’ll get to it at dawn.”
Anastosias nodded, satisfied. “Good, trade in the harbour has been down lately, has it not?”
“Storms have ravaged trade ships lately and people fear that this region will soon fall to the slavic pagans. More and more, merchants have been travelling to Korinthos and no further.” Sebastianos answered. “Then we must do more to attract them,” replied the young lord evenly. We have large caves in the rock we will put them to use.”
“My lord..?”
“Once I have my plans in place I will direct you to carry them out, Sebastianos. Trust me on this.”
The steward nodded in assent and Anastosias turned his attention to his Court Chaplain, Gregorios. He was a dark haired wretch of a man, born envious and lived through the cloth out of idleness. Privately, he was convinced that the man didn’t even believe in God, spending the most of his time courting favour with everyone he could and very little time in church.
“Will you finally give me leave to do as your father failed to do and rid this land of the heretics?” The chaplain spoke before he could.
Theochristas looked at the man darkly and Sabas slammed his fist on the table turning to spit venom at the priest but was cut short by the young lord’s voice.
“Enough of this foolishness, Gregorios. Go out and find religious texts, wherever, however you can. Our library is woefully ill equipped to provide in matters of learning.” He commanded.
In truth, he wanted a reason to keep the Chaplain occupied and couldn’t countenance sending such a man to Constantinople as representing his interests. “Don’t bother me again with talk of heretics, this land has old roots.” he growled.
“You can consider yourselves dismissed, come to me personally with your reports and I will inform you when we are to next hold council.
At once the group of men objected, unused to such a short meeting but Anastosias waved them off, standing and walking briskly from the room, leaving an angered, wary group of men behind him.
In the year since his father’s passing he’d never seen his council so flustered and he let a wry grin cross his face.
“I’m not my father. I will be more.”
It was more than an hour later when a small knock on his chamber doors caused Anastosias to look up. “Enter.”
The tall rotund man that entered cast his eyes warily about the room, a cursory scan Anastonias had seen him perform countless times out of habit. He rose to greet his spymaster, clasping his arm.
“That was quite the performance, the council are chasing their tails.” Ioustinos said as he sat down opposite his lord.
“As long as they perform their assigned tasks diligently then they should have no cause for concern.” He said simply.
“Ever the diplomat.” his spymaster said, smirking,
Anastonius sat back letting out a breath of frustration. “I’m trying but I refuse to let their complacency rule me. My father was well loved but I am a different man and I demand no less loyalty than he.”
Ioustinos nodded. “Which will be my task, I assume.”
“Work night and day if you have to. If there’s even a whisper of dissent I would know of it. They might not be willing to betray me directly but Gregorios and Sabas at least merit keeping a close eye on.”
“And Theochristos? I’m informed he has been tasked with the tutelage of Raphail and Chysogone.”
“You disappove?” The Toumarche asked, smiling. His wife had blessed him with a son and a daughter in the early days of their marriage, when they were both blushing teenagers with a lack of responsibility and a wealth of time and privelage. “Despite his beliefs, Theoc is a good man. Kind and intelligent, blessed with patience. That should help with Chrysogone at least.”
Ioustinos laughed and took a sip of wine, “I would not dare imply he need it.”
While Raphail at eight years was growing to be the very shadow of his father, his sister, only yet seven, had proven to be a terror, gallivanting through the halls of the castle and even once, climbing the ramparts and attempting to scale the sheer cliff the keep was built into to reach the plateau.
The night grew long as the lord and the spymaster filled their bellies with wine and laughed.
Only a week later the Basileus Konstantinos V declared war on the savages to the north of Monemvasia.
A ride in the night had galloped up the causeway and nearly caused mass panic amongst the gaurdsmen as Anastosias was woken from his slumber.
“We must raise the levies and join the Basileus,” Theochristos argued in the chamber as his lord stood, staring out the window to the sea.”
“The Slavs holding Epirus cannot raise enough men to trouble the whole Empire and I will not rush to their borders like a mindless zealot.” He declared. “Send scouts to our northern borders and have the men at alert. If they try to enter our lands we will repel them.”
“My liege, do not be so arbitrary. Think of the great boons you could ask of the Basileus by fighting in his name.” Theoc argued but the Toumarch raised his hand to silence his chancellor.
“An old man with a weak heir,” he dismissed. “Have the men ready but we do not march,” he said, directing the last towards Sabas.
The council grumbled but rose as one to leave, fully aware Anastosias would not be swayed on the matter. Before they all filed out Sebastianos walked to him, “A word in private, my liege?”
Anastosias wanted nothing more than to climb back into his bed but he nodded in assent. “What is it?”
“I have been thinking on your recent ambitions and in order to remind the people of the authority of your rule we should issue fresh coinage. Minting coin with your image on it instead of your fathers’ would be a fitting reminder to the people and if I may be so bold, there is profit to be made in it if we were to use a less precious metal in the process.”
He pondered that for a moment. “That would be quite deceitful. In essence I would be debasing my own image,” he reflected, the idea not sitting well with his pride.
“True, and if we were to be found out it would be a blow to your reputation I imagine. And yet according to my figured we could easily set aside enough true gold from the process to add significant funds to the treasury.”
Eventually something akin to greed won out in the young lord’s mind and he nodded in assent. “Do it quietly. Make sure you are not discovered.”
The steward nodded and left with small bow.
By summer’s end it was revealed that the Toumarche had made a wise choice in regards to the war. The slavic king had raised an army reported to be near seven thousand men strong and conquered Byzantine provinces all along the Adriatic. Anastosias’ men would have been slaughtered had he sent them north.
Thankfully, the Basileus had managed to raise a force of comparable size by november and the routed the Slavs in the Battle of Epirus. With both sides feeling the economic strain of war and thousands of casualties, they agreed a white peace.
One unexpected outcome was the number of people travelling through southern Greece. Armies needed supply trains as they passed and the war had been an opportunity for many Greeks under slavic rule to flee south. Monemvasia’s trade was increasing albeit slowly. A large cabal of craftsmen had even come one overcast afternoon to seek audience and offered to set up workshops adjacent to the castle town. They required a small investment but assured the lord it would be a productive venture in the long run.
He was loathe to part with the coin but Sebastianos’ minting process had granted him with enough spare currency to see it through.
The year passed quietly after that, relatively speaking. A representative of the Han dynasty to the far east had come offering grace from his God King but while Sebastianos argued otherwise, Anastonias sent him away, angered by the man’s demand for monetary tribute and declaring that the people of Monemvasia had little need for baubles and trinkets from the other end of the known world.
In truth the strange looking man’s arrogance had been the final straw and the young lord thought he would have been well within his rights to leave him to the cells and be done with him.
He had been plagued with strange dreams from spring. In them he would sit atop the plateau with a companion and enjoy the pink hues cast through the horizon as the sun set but try as he might he could never put a face to his companion and he absolutely refused to consult his chaplain about the issue. Often though, he found himself lost in thought during his waking hours, trying to relive the feelings of the dream, contentment and joy, feelings he could rarely grasp any other time in his life.
One evening after another protracted argument with his wife Euphrosyne he sat up late drinking more wine that we would usually allow himself. A new maid had been taken into the castle’s service and he had watched her go about her business all evening. She was pretty, little more than a blushing girl but she held herself with confidence rarely found in the lowborn. Her hair was a soft shade of brown lightened by the sun and her eyes matched perfectly.
When she came to refill his pitcher long after he had departed the hall and was sitting in his rooms she plucked up the courage to speak. “You do not often stay awake so late, my lord. Is there something troubling you?”
“And what would you know of my habits, girl, you’re barely out of children’s dress.” He said, annoyed at her brashness.
“Of course, I meant no offence,” She said, stepping backwards and bowing before turning to leave. As she went she looked over her shoulder. “I only meant that a man such as you should not want for company.”
He bedded her that night, lost in wine and lust and he found her more than pleasing company. When they parted ways in the early morning with a chaste kiss he felt invigorated for the first time in months. “It’s good to be the Toumarche.” He smirked.
The night of passion had proved to be something of a turning point in his fortunes it seemed. In the summer of 771 a civil war had broken out in the empire and his liege, the Strategos was spending large sums of coin to support the throne. Meanwhile, the craftsmen Anastonias had funded had returned to him, boasting of their success and handing him a large sum of money in repayment and telling him of the benefits this would have for the local economy.
With the treasury looking much healthier than it had a few short years ago, he decreed that a large training ground be built in Monemvasia. There was enough spare ground outside the town and though the cost was high, halls were built and equipment bought. Without such preparation he would not feel confident in his ability to one day seize Korinthos.
In winter his maidservent lover, Parthena took him aside, her face grim. “My love, God has seen fit to bless us with a child.”
The news was hardly a shock to him, with the frequency of their illicit evenings together it was more a matter of when, not if. His dalliances with Parthena were an issue his chancellor had tried to raise with him briefly and he was informed that people had been gossiping around the court about the lingering looks and pleasant conversation they would engage in.
Anastonias found it difficult to care, he was Toumarche and we would do as he wished and to hell with the rest. He even had to rebuke Ioustinos when his friend had casually suggested that he make the problem disappear.
In April, Parthena birthed him a son which he named Petros and though he refused to legitimize the boy, he acknowledged him as his own and ensured he had a place in house Klados, pleasing Parthena and enraging his wife in one fell swoop. As he held the boy he couldn’t bring himself to care much about the opinions of the others.
His son Raphail was also less than pleased but even at twelve he had more diplomatic skill than his father, a consequence of years of tutelage under Theochristos and formally, if reluctantly congratulated him upon meeting his new brother.
Almost a year later with the militia grounds completed and the coffers of the treasury having expanded more than expected, he ordered the expansion of the castle proper. It was an ambitious undertaking to be sure and expensive but when it was complete the main keep would be doubled in size, reaching farther into the mountain itself.
With years having gone by without Theochristos managing to find a decent claim on Korinthos he reasoned he could spend the money in relative peace of mind.
A month later the civil war ended and the Basileus was deposed in favour of his heir Leon IV who revoked the Thema of Akhaia from his liege. This was extremely troubling to Anastosias as it meant that he now owed fealty directly to the Basileus himself and he would never be in a position to claim the title by force.
On the other hand this made Korinthos a much less complicated target and Aniketos, his former liege was far weaker. He recalled Theochristos to court and instructed him to double his efforts.
Parthena fell pregant again that summer and he was glad to have something to keep his chancellor busy and out of his direct affairs.
March of the year 774 came with a confluence of events. Parthena gave birth to a boy they named Isidoros who was a sickly child. Like his brother, Anastasios welcomed the boy into his dynasty but without the rights of inheritance. He long since ceased to care about Euphrosyne’s opinion on his infidelity and he was more concerned as to whether or not his son would live to see his first year.
The Basileus retunred the Thema of Akhaia to Aniketos which caused the young lord to fly into a terrible rage. He sailed to the court of Romanos, Toumarche of Evvoia and arranged a bethrothal. His daughter Chrysogone would marry Romanos’ Son, Simeon. And the two lords formed an alliance.
Privately, he had wished for a better match for his daughter but Romanos’ aid in battle could one day make it worthwhile.
Less than a month later this proved the case as Theochristos returned from Korinthos with a stack of paper. “It cost a solid fortune in bribes, my lord but it is done. You have a serious claim on the Toumarche of Korinthos.”
Anastosias sat down. Years of planning had gone into the plot and he felt a weight lift he wasn’t aware he had been shouldering.
“We need to let the treasury expand before we can declare war.” He said quietly.
Theochristos seemed somewhat relieved. “That is wise, Anastosias. Korinthos is currently suffering under barbarian raids and our armies would be forced to fight on two fronts if we marched straight away.”
“Soon though, I can delay this no longer.” The Toumarche thought.
March brought the death of his steward Sebastianos. The man had been suffering ill health for months and his heart had finally given in. He hadn’t been close with the man but he had been loyal and helped oversee an upwards turn in the economy of Monemvasia. After the funeral was attended to he appointed the Bishop of Nikkli, Pavlos to the position.
August came with the news that the Basileus had sent a force from the north and slaughtered the raiders that were looting Korinthos. Anastonias publicly mocked his liege, claiming he had to seek help from the throne to defend his own lands from a small force and declaring his claim on the lands to anyone who would hear him. Envoys were sent across the lands bearing the news that he and not Aniketos was the true Toumarche of Kolinthos.
On the twenty first of August 774, Monemvasia went to war.
He commanded the army personally, clad in chainmail and rode his horse out of the gates in front of a host of near eight hundred men. By the time they arrived in Korinthos, Romanos should be arriving from the north to meet him with another six hundred. Together they would crush Aniketos and claim his lands for his own.
In truth as he rode the path to war confident in his prowess, he failed to foresee what a hellish event it would become.
As the army approached the gates of Korinthos a rider found their camp and requested to speak with him immediately. He received the grim looking man in his tent. “What news brings you here on the eve of battle?” He wondered for the man looked weary and had ridden hard from the north.
“Your highness,” he bowed. “I come with news from Toumarche Romanos. He regrets to inform you that he will not be able to join you in this war.”
Blood pounded in his ears and his fists clenched, “What did you just say?”
“My lord bade me to offer you his sincerest sympathies,” the messenger spluttered, fearful.
Anastosias stood. “Your ‘lord’ is a snivelling wretch and the only light to be found in this is that my daughter will never have to wed the festering sack of pig shit that he dares have the gall to call a son!” He shouted, fire in his eyes. “Get out of my sight and tell Romanos that when I take these lands I will look to him with either the sword or the knife.”
The messenger nodded, fleeing the tent as if the devil himself were on his heels.
Without Romanos’ men his army was still easily able to rout a token force sent forth from the gates and they seized a large town completely as well as a temple grounds nearby. The castle itself though was a different matter. The one battle they had was over before Anastonias could even unsheath his sword and they were forced into a protracted seige.
After a year with no progress, he left the front and returned to Monemvasia to gather more men in an attempt to begin forcing the walls but the levies were drained. He stayed for a while and spent some time with his son, a young man who seemed shrew and capable. With assurances of his heir’s ability he gave Raphail the regency and left for the front. Not before taking his due from his wife before he left. His lover Parthena was unwell and he had been reluctant to call on her in such a state.
The coupling with his wife was a rough, joyless affair but it suited his needs and he left for the front in a better mood than when he arrived.
There was to be no quick solution to the stalemate though. In November of the year 780, syears later, after the longest seige in living memory, the defenders of the city finally opened the gates and Aniketos submitted to him.
.png "2020-02-17 (2).png")
What followed wasn’t the joy and relief of a hard fought war, finally and gloriously won. Stacks of paper were signed, allegiances were guaranteed and the army rode home to Monemvasia, victorious but agitated. He had rotated leave from the seige, groups of fifty men had been home in alternating rounds before returning to the front but it was a long time to keep men away from their families and there was a palpable feeling of discontent in the ranks.
When they arrived his wife greeted him with a son, conceived of his most recent visit home. “He is named Lazaros,” she said coolly, handing the babe to him. “May you dote on him as you do your bastards.”
He found his daughter a woman grown with a keen mind for numbers but little else and arranged for her a grand marriage to Strategos Theophylaktos, a much older man but powerful within the empire and kind.
When evening descended on the night of a full moon, Anastosias sat at his balcony and looked out over the sea wondering what to do next.
______________
Couldn't seige the city holding so had to return to Monemvasia and then back to Korinthas smashing small pockets of raised troops to increase warscore. A grind.
If you made it this far, thank you for reading! Questions and commentary are appreciated.
I will be using various mods but quality of life things, the game is still ironman compatible and I won't be using the console but i'm keeping Ironman off in the case of something totally immersion breaking happening. Let's hope not, yeah?
Full disclosure, I've played thousands of hours of CK2 and have had the game since just after launch but I still consider myself uniquely terrible at it. I won't be minmaxing or aiming for the perfect plays, I'm going to try to RP as much as possible with this.
Without further ado, I bid you welcome to...
The ashes of Sparta
Act one
part one
Act one
part one
.png "2020-02-17 (2).png")
Monemvasia is beautiful, an ancient fortress town built on a huge outcropping of stone in the southern Aegean. Some blessed soul a thousand years before had take a small fishing village and thought to himself, “This could be more.”
The keep had been raised against and in many parts into the sheer cliff and the small causeway linking it to the mainland had been secured. Anastosias liked to think that the ancient Spartan ruler of this island had been a paranoid man but had been nothing short of ingenious when it came to planning its defence.
The young Toumarches stepped back from the balcony of that same keep and watched as the sun settled low into the horizon. Eventually he tore himself away from the sight and continued along the stone cloistered hallways of the castle, aiming for the chambers where his councillors were waiting for him. Along the way he passed courtiers that bowed respectfully and servants that lowered their heads and never once deigned to look their way.
His wife, Euphrosyne, was a kind woman and fair minded but she often grew frustrated with Anastosias’ prideful demeanour and his lack of tact while holding court, bemoaning that he would rather play with his sword than play the part of Toumarches.
“They expected me to be my father,” he thought to himself ruefully.
Upon his father’s death at sea Monamvasia had undergone a great period of mourning and the whole area was shaken, Toumarches Alkian had been renowned as a great and fair ruler and he knew well that people were concerned he was but a shadow of their old lord.
Anastosias had spent much of his youth in the training yard with the soldiers or sealed in his room reading legends of the ancient Greeks, wild stories of Gods and Titans spurning him on as he cast himself in the role of Hercules or Achilles.
As he entered the chamber and the fading sunlight filtered into the room mingling with the flaming wall sconces he took his place at the head of the council table, ignoring his councilors grim faces.
“I’m sure you all have many grievances to air and issues to settle this evening but I’m afraid they will have to wait,” he said calm. “I find myself inspired, as if finally awoken after the slumber cast upon me by my dear father’s passing.”
“That is good news indeed, my liege,” the Chancellor, Theocharistos said cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”
“Long ago, my forefathers ruled these lands more directly as you know. Korinthos to our north was a powerful seat of our dynasty and I would see it finally returned to Klados blood.” he said, sitting back slightly in his chair and taking in the shocked silence.
“But, my liege…” Theoc started.
“Enough Theochristos. I am aware of the difficulties involved. I am sworn to Strategos Christophorous, that I cannot deny. Yet he holds lands and titles that our my family’s right by ancient tradition. Generations of stewdardship stripped away by a gilded man on a far away throne. You will go to Korinthos and find me a claim. A valid reason to take what is mine by strength of arms if need be.”
The chancellor looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I will do as you command, Anastosias,” he relented.
The young lord nodded in satisfaction and turned his attention to his marshal. “In preparation for this endeavor, Sabas, I need you to conscript men and train them in the art of war.”
Like the Chancellor, Sabas followed a different way. The way of the old gods. Though Anastosias loved the old tales and allowed his subjects to keep to their hellenic roots, he was aware of Sabas’… distaste towards anyone who followed the teachings of Christ.
“Your wish is my command,” he stated simply. In truth Sabas was a poor soldier and deceitful to boot but he had been his father’s marshal and until he could find a suitable replacement he was loathe to cause conflict in the council.
His steward was next. “Sebastianos. Raise the taxes, if we are to war on the Strategos we will need coin and much of it.” The fair haired man nodded in compliance and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I’m sure we can find something to increase the treasury, I’ll get to it at dawn.”
Anastosias nodded, satisfied. “Good, trade in the harbour has been down lately, has it not?”
“Storms have ravaged trade ships lately and people fear that this region will soon fall to the slavic pagans. More and more, merchants have been travelling to Korinthos and no further.” Sebastianos answered. “Then we must do more to attract them,” replied the young lord evenly. We have large caves in the rock we will put them to use.”
“My lord..?”
“Once I have my plans in place I will direct you to carry them out, Sebastianos. Trust me on this.”
The steward nodded in assent and Anastosias turned his attention to his Court Chaplain, Gregorios. He was a dark haired wretch of a man, born envious and lived through the cloth out of idleness. Privately, he was convinced that the man didn’t even believe in God, spending the most of his time courting favour with everyone he could and very little time in church.
“Will you finally give me leave to do as your father failed to do and rid this land of the heretics?” The chaplain spoke before he could.
Theochristas looked at the man darkly and Sabas slammed his fist on the table turning to spit venom at the priest but was cut short by the young lord’s voice.
“Enough of this foolishness, Gregorios. Go out and find religious texts, wherever, however you can. Our library is woefully ill equipped to provide in matters of learning.” He commanded.
In truth, he wanted a reason to keep the Chaplain occupied and couldn’t countenance sending such a man to Constantinople as representing his interests. “Don’t bother me again with talk of heretics, this land has old roots.” he growled.
“You can consider yourselves dismissed, come to me personally with your reports and I will inform you when we are to next hold council.
At once the group of men objected, unused to such a short meeting but Anastosias waved them off, standing and walking briskly from the room, leaving an angered, wary group of men behind him.
In the year since his father’s passing he’d never seen his council so flustered and he let a wry grin cross his face.
“I’m not my father. I will be more.”
It was more than an hour later when a small knock on his chamber doors caused Anastosias to look up. “Enter.”
The tall rotund man that entered cast his eyes warily about the room, a cursory scan Anastonias had seen him perform countless times out of habit. He rose to greet his spymaster, clasping his arm.
“That was quite the performance, the council are chasing their tails.” Ioustinos said as he sat down opposite his lord.
“As long as they perform their assigned tasks diligently then they should have no cause for concern.” He said simply.
“Ever the diplomat.” his spymaster said, smirking,
Anastonius sat back letting out a breath of frustration. “I’m trying but I refuse to let their complacency rule me. My father was well loved but I am a different man and I demand no less loyalty than he.”
Ioustinos nodded. “Which will be my task, I assume.”
“Work night and day if you have to. If there’s even a whisper of dissent I would know of it. They might not be willing to betray me directly but Gregorios and Sabas at least merit keeping a close eye on.”
“And Theochristos? I’m informed he has been tasked with the tutelage of Raphail and Chysogone.”
“You disappove?” The Toumarche asked, smiling. His wife had blessed him with a son and a daughter in the early days of their marriage, when they were both blushing teenagers with a lack of responsibility and a wealth of time and privelage. “Despite his beliefs, Theoc is a good man. Kind and intelligent, blessed with patience. That should help with Chrysogone at least.”
Ioustinos laughed and took a sip of wine, “I would not dare imply he need it.”
While Raphail at eight years was growing to be the very shadow of his father, his sister, only yet seven, had proven to be a terror, gallivanting through the halls of the castle and even once, climbing the ramparts and attempting to scale the sheer cliff the keep was built into to reach the plateau.
The night grew long as the lord and the spymaster filled their bellies with wine and laughed.
Only a week later the Basileus Konstantinos V declared war on the savages to the north of Monemvasia.
A ride in the night had galloped up the causeway and nearly caused mass panic amongst the gaurdsmen as Anastosias was woken from his slumber.
“We must raise the levies and join the Basileus,” Theochristos argued in the chamber as his lord stood, staring out the window to the sea.”
“The Slavs holding Epirus cannot raise enough men to trouble the whole Empire and I will not rush to their borders like a mindless zealot.” He declared. “Send scouts to our northern borders and have the men at alert. If they try to enter our lands we will repel them.”
“My liege, do not be so arbitrary. Think of the great boons you could ask of the Basileus by fighting in his name.” Theoc argued but the Toumarch raised his hand to silence his chancellor.
“An old man with a weak heir,” he dismissed. “Have the men ready but we do not march,” he said, directing the last towards Sabas.
The council grumbled but rose as one to leave, fully aware Anastosias would not be swayed on the matter. Before they all filed out Sebastianos walked to him, “A word in private, my liege?”
Anastosias wanted nothing more than to climb back into his bed but he nodded in assent. “What is it?”
“I have been thinking on your recent ambitions and in order to remind the people of the authority of your rule we should issue fresh coinage. Minting coin with your image on it instead of your fathers’ would be a fitting reminder to the people and if I may be so bold, there is profit to be made in it if we were to use a less precious metal in the process.”
He pondered that for a moment. “That would be quite deceitful. In essence I would be debasing my own image,” he reflected, the idea not sitting well with his pride.
“True, and if we were to be found out it would be a blow to your reputation I imagine. And yet according to my figured we could easily set aside enough true gold from the process to add significant funds to the treasury.”
Eventually something akin to greed won out in the young lord’s mind and he nodded in assent. “Do it quietly. Make sure you are not discovered.”
The steward nodded and left with small bow.
By summer’s end it was revealed that the Toumarche had made a wise choice in regards to the war. The slavic king had raised an army reported to be near seven thousand men strong and conquered Byzantine provinces all along the Adriatic. Anastosias’ men would have been slaughtered had he sent them north.
Thankfully, the Basileus had managed to raise a force of comparable size by november and the routed the Slavs in the Battle of Epirus. With both sides feeling the economic strain of war and thousands of casualties, they agreed a white peace.
One unexpected outcome was the number of people travelling through southern Greece. Armies needed supply trains as they passed and the war had been an opportunity for many Greeks under slavic rule to flee south. Monemvasia’s trade was increasing albeit slowly. A large cabal of craftsmen had even come one overcast afternoon to seek audience and offered to set up workshops adjacent to the castle town. They required a small investment but assured the lord it would be a productive venture in the long run.
He was loathe to part with the coin but Sebastianos’ minting process had granted him with enough spare currency to see it through.
The year passed quietly after that, relatively speaking. A representative of the Han dynasty to the far east had come offering grace from his God King but while Sebastianos argued otherwise, Anastonias sent him away, angered by the man’s demand for monetary tribute and declaring that the people of Monemvasia had little need for baubles and trinkets from the other end of the known world.
In truth the strange looking man’s arrogance had been the final straw and the young lord thought he would have been well within his rights to leave him to the cells and be done with him.
He had been plagued with strange dreams from spring. In them he would sit atop the plateau with a companion and enjoy the pink hues cast through the horizon as the sun set but try as he might he could never put a face to his companion and he absolutely refused to consult his chaplain about the issue. Often though, he found himself lost in thought during his waking hours, trying to relive the feelings of the dream, contentment and joy, feelings he could rarely grasp any other time in his life.
One evening after another protracted argument with his wife Euphrosyne he sat up late drinking more wine that we would usually allow himself. A new maid had been taken into the castle’s service and he had watched her go about her business all evening. She was pretty, little more than a blushing girl but she held herself with confidence rarely found in the lowborn. Her hair was a soft shade of brown lightened by the sun and her eyes matched perfectly.
When she came to refill his pitcher long after he had departed the hall and was sitting in his rooms she plucked up the courage to speak. “You do not often stay awake so late, my lord. Is there something troubling you?”
“And what would you know of my habits, girl, you’re barely out of children’s dress.” He said, annoyed at her brashness.
“Of course, I meant no offence,” She said, stepping backwards and bowing before turning to leave. As she went she looked over her shoulder. “I only meant that a man such as you should not want for company.”
He bedded her that night, lost in wine and lust and he found her more than pleasing company. When they parted ways in the early morning with a chaste kiss he felt invigorated for the first time in months. “It’s good to be the Toumarche.” He smirked.
The night of passion had proved to be something of a turning point in his fortunes it seemed. In the summer of 771 a civil war had broken out in the empire and his liege, the Strategos was spending large sums of coin to support the throne. Meanwhile, the craftsmen Anastonias had funded had returned to him, boasting of their success and handing him a large sum of money in repayment and telling him of the benefits this would have for the local economy.
With the treasury looking much healthier than it had a few short years ago, he decreed that a large training ground be built in Monemvasia. There was enough spare ground outside the town and though the cost was high, halls were built and equipment bought. Without such preparation he would not feel confident in his ability to one day seize Korinthos.
In winter his maidservent lover, Parthena took him aside, her face grim. “My love, God has seen fit to bless us with a child.”
The news was hardly a shock to him, with the frequency of their illicit evenings together it was more a matter of when, not if. His dalliances with Parthena were an issue his chancellor had tried to raise with him briefly and he was informed that people had been gossiping around the court about the lingering looks and pleasant conversation they would engage in.
Anastonias found it difficult to care, he was Toumarche and we would do as he wished and to hell with the rest. He even had to rebuke Ioustinos when his friend had casually suggested that he make the problem disappear.
In April, Parthena birthed him a son which he named Petros and though he refused to legitimize the boy, he acknowledged him as his own and ensured he had a place in house Klados, pleasing Parthena and enraging his wife in one fell swoop. As he held the boy he couldn’t bring himself to care much about the opinions of the others.
His son Raphail was also less than pleased but even at twelve he had more diplomatic skill than his father, a consequence of years of tutelage under Theochristos and formally, if reluctantly congratulated him upon meeting his new brother.
Almost a year later with the militia grounds completed and the coffers of the treasury having expanded more than expected, he ordered the expansion of the castle proper. It was an ambitious undertaking to be sure and expensive but when it was complete the main keep would be doubled in size, reaching farther into the mountain itself.
With years having gone by without Theochristos managing to find a decent claim on Korinthos he reasoned he could spend the money in relative peace of mind.
A month later the civil war ended and the Basileus was deposed in favour of his heir Leon IV who revoked the Thema of Akhaia from his liege. This was extremely troubling to Anastosias as it meant that he now owed fealty directly to the Basileus himself and he would never be in a position to claim the title by force.
On the other hand this made Korinthos a much less complicated target and Aniketos, his former liege was far weaker. He recalled Theochristos to court and instructed him to double his efforts.
Parthena fell pregant again that summer and he was glad to have something to keep his chancellor busy and out of his direct affairs.
March of the year 774 came with a confluence of events. Parthena gave birth to a boy they named Isidoros who was a sickly child. Like his brother, Anastasios welcomed the boy into his dynasty but without the rights of inheritance. He long since ceased to care about Euphrosyne’s opinion on his infidelity and he was more concerned as to whether or not his son would live to see his first year.
The Basileus retunred the Thema of Akhaia to Aniketos which caused the young lord to fly into a terrible rage. He sailed to the court of Romanos, Toumarche of Evvoia and arranged a bethrothal. His daughter Chrysogone would marry Romanos’ Son, Simeon. And the two lords formed an alliance.
Privately, he had wished for a better match for his daughter but Romanos’ aid in battle could one day make it worthwhile.
Less than a month later this proved the case as Theochristos returned from Korinthos with a stack of paper. “It cost a solid fortune in bribes, my lord but it is done. You have a serious claim on the Toumarche of Korinthos.”
Anastosias sat down. Years of planning had gone into the plot and he felt a weight lift he wasn’t aware he had been shouldering.
“We need to let the treasury expand before we can declare war.” He said quietly.
Theochristos seemed somewhat relieved. “That is wise, Anastosias. Korinthos is currently suffering under barbarian raids and our armies would be forced to fight on two fronts if we marched straight away.”
“Soon though, I can delay this no longer.” The Toumarche thought.
March brought the death of his steward Sebastianos. The man had been suffering ill health for months and his heart had finally given in. He hadn’t been close with the man but he had been loyal and helped oversee an upwards turn in the economy of Monemvasia. After the funeral was attended to he appointed the Bishop of Nikkli, Pavlos to the position.
August came with the news that the Basileus had sent a force from the north and slaughtered the raiders that were looting Korinthos. Anastonias publicly mocked his liege, claiming he had to seek help from the throne to defend his own lands from a small force and declaring his claim on the lands to anyone who would hear him. Envoys were sent across the lands bearing the news that he and not Aniketos was the true Toumarche of Kolinthos.
On the twenty first of August 774, Monemvasia went to war.
He commanded the army personally, clad in chainmail and rode his horse out of the gates in front of a host of near eight hundred men. By the time they arrived in Korinthos, Romanos should be arriving from the north to meet him with another six hundred. Together they would crush Aniketos and claim his lands for his own.
In truth as he rode the path to war confident in his prowess, he failed to foresee what a hellish event it would become.
As the army approached the gates of Korinthos a rider found their camp and requested to speak with him immediately. He received the grim looking man in his tent. “What news brings you here on the eve of battle?” He wondered for the man looked weary and had ridden hard from the north.
“Your highness,” he bowed. “I come with news from Toumarche Romanos. He regrets to inform you that he will not be able to join you in this war.”
Blood pounded in his ears and his fists clenched, “What did you just say?”
“My lord bade me to offer you his sincerest sympathies,” the messenger spluttered, fearful.
Anastosias stood. “Your ‘lord’ is a snivelling wretch and the only light to be found in this is that my daughter will never have to wed the festering sack of pig shit that he dares have the gall to call a son!” He shouted, fire in his eyes. “Get out of my sight and tell Romanos that when I take these lands I will look to him with either the sword or the knife.”
The messenger nodded, fleeing the tent as if the devil himself were on his heels.
Without Romanos’ men his army was still easily able to rout a token force sent forth from the gates and they seized a large town completely as well as a temple grounds nearby. The castle itself though was a different matter. The one battle they had was over before Anastonias could even unsheath his sword and they were forced into a protracted seige.
After a year with no progress, he left the front and returned to Monemvasia to gather more men in an attempt to begin forcing the walls but the levies were drained. He stayed for a while and spent some time with his son, a young man who seemed shrew and capable. With assurances of his heir’s ability he gave Raphail the regency and left for the front. Not before taking his due from his wife before he left. His lover Parthena was unwell and he had been reluctant to call on her in such a state.
The coupling with his wife was a rough, joyless affair but it suited his needs and he left for the front in a better mood than when he arrived.
There was to be no quick solution to the stalemate though. In November of the year 780, syears later, after the longest seige in living memory, the defenders of the city finally opened the gates and Aniketos submitted to him.
What followed wasn’t the joy and relief of a hard fought war, finally and gloriously won. Stacks of paper were signed, allegiances were guaranteed and the army rode home to Monemvasia, victorious but agitated. He had rotated leave from the seige, groups of fifty men had been home in alternating rounds before returning to the front but it was a long time to keep men away from their families and there was a palpable feeling of discontent in the ranks.
When they arrived his wife greeted him with a son, conceived of his most recent visit home. “He is named Lazaros,” she said coolly, handing the babe to him. “May you dote on him as you do your bastards.”
He found his daughter a woman grown with a keen mind for numbers but little else and arranged for her a grand marriage to Strategos Theophylaktos, a much older man but powerful within the empire and kind.
When evening descended on the night of a full moon, Anastosias sat at his balcony and looked out over the sea wondering what to do next.
______________
Couldn't seige the city holding so had to return to Monemvasia and then back to Korinthas smashing small pockets of raised troops to increase warscore. A grind.
If you made it this far, thank you for reading! Questions and commentary are appreciated.
.png)
