*first a little note. The point of the story is to somehow explain the historical incorectness of the 1066 scenario(regarding Croatia) and provide an interesting plot to lead the game and the story from that point. Since nothing else will explain the starting position. I chose magic, a curse and a grand conspiracy(since every true Croat sees some kind of conspiracy against our country in some aspect ;-), whether it's the IMF or the World Cup,btw. France would have lost the semi-finals if the judges did their job objectively, but a Croatia-Brazil finals would not be as commercial). So there'll be some mythology, and stuff.
...the saved fragments from a tablet found a few miles south of Rostov, dating 3rd.ct.:
Fragment 1: '...we live in a very hard and furious world...'
Fragment 2: 'it has been six centuries since our ancestors first fled the lands of old, escaping the tide of the dogheads, leaving the lands that once yielded plenty and turned barren in the final days. Nothing is as it was, there is so much to learn from these new people, the Antii are in some ways so different, yet similar, our languages are becoming one, our cultures becoming one, our people becoming one.'
Fragment 3: '...the great coven is no more, all praise the great lord of Chorvathos, the destroyes of the Grand Witches Coven, may they plague us no more. Most of the witches have been destroyed in the final conflict, but few managed to flee to wherever their ill fate would take them...'
Fragment 4: ' May the gods of new and old protect us, because the scourge is at our gates, we must leave these lands again and go west... to whatever awaits us...Perun guide our path.'
Prologue
Eight years since We became King. It have been good eight years, the land is peaceful, the people well fed, gold is pouring from the mines in Bosnia, Venetian dogs don't dare approach the coats, pirates from the Norman lands have been quiet for a long time. Byzantium is weak and old. The new city of Sibenik is growing rapidly. All is well in the Kingdom of Croatia. We only wish for a son, little Neda will make a beautiful princess one day, but someone must inherit the throne... God will grant us a child, We are sure, when the time is right. Yet, something troubles Our sleep, something ominous lurks beyond the horizon and We don't know what. Nothing good can come of this, may The Good Lord protect us when trouble strikes...
We fell to sleep. We dreamt of a horrible battle, war, curses, death, pillage and slaughter, we dreamt of a great warrior chasing witches north, east, south and west, we dreamt of witches hiding for centuries, we dreamt of a witch making a horrible curse, we dreamt of a curse on our lands, a curse ripping it apart, weakening it. Changing it's fate. We woke up in a cold sweat.
Why are we alone in our bed? Where is the queen? Quickly, We ran out of our bedchamber, chasing through the corridor to the princesses chamber... There is no one there, an empty room. Great Lord, what kind of horrible curse fell upon Us? Finally the noise We made awoke half of the Court. Our Brother Stjepan asked Us what was wrong. We asked where the Queen and Princess were. He looked at Us startled and confused. No Queen, no daughter. No, this cannot be. What about the kingdom? Dalmatia out of Our grasp? We ruled Dalmatia for so long, this cannot be. Magyar in Slavonia... but Tomislav had beaten them back over 150 years ago, this cannot be.
We ran out of the hall, out of the castle, We ran, and ran and ran, until Our legs served Us no longer, We fell down on rocky ground. This isn't Nin, why is Our court under Mt. Velebit? It doesn't matter anyway, nothing matter now. All is lost. Heavens fall down on Us. We don't want to live in a world such as this. There is only darkness in this world.
We don't know how long we stared into the sky, searching for any kind of sign, looking into the Northern Star, Danica. And then a glow appeared. A glow like none before. A beautiful maiden in it. Can it truly be? Is it truly her? The Lady of Velebit? Soul of Croatia? Yet, a sad look in her eyes, hurt and abandoned. Her lips did not move, but We heard her voice in our mind. Sad, but determined'
'Petar Kresimir, dear son, both of us have been hurt badly, We feel each others pain. But there is no room for resignation. All is not lost. We must fight. We must find those responsible, and make them pay for their crime. It is up to you to take the sword and lead us. Make our enemies pay. I have used what power I had left to find the cause to this disaster. It was a curse from a horrible witch. An enemy of old, from when Perun guided our path. St. Ilias as you call him now. Take your sword, hunt her down, and may St.Ilias guide your hand as you smite her down. Only then can we begin to heal. Both of us. I have managed to divine her location, she resides somwhere across the great river Danube, east from the lands east of the Magyar. Lead your armies and begin the hunt. Her name is Baba Roga. The peoples fear will lead you towards her.'
She looked at Us. No more sadness in her eyes, but hope and fire burning. And she added: 'You can do nothing for your wife and daughter. They don't exist in this world. Try to get over them and start your life anew. Every king needs a queen, and every kingdom needs heirs. Now go and make us whole.'
After that We passed out. As the sun came over Mt. Velebit, We woke up and strolled back to the castle. It is time for this witch to taste the wrath of Croatia.
CHAPTER 1 – Petar Kresimir IV
'No, no, no! We can not go on like this!' We snapped at Our court meeting. 'The country must reorganize. We are not a tribe anymore, our armies are weak and obsolete. We must institute supreme royal authority, like the byzantines.'
'As you wish, Your Highness' the marshall responded. It was a busy meeting, so much things to discuss, so many problems. Are We a stranger in Our own country? Or is this the same country We had ruled before for over 8 years? Such thinking only gives Us headache. We shall just have to make the best of it.
Ah, another thing, We had a visitor to Our court this morning, a byzantine scribe who just came back from the lands of Persia. Not only does he document the correspondence of the byzantine court, but he is also a well known matchmaker. In a brief conversation, We asked him if he knew of an apropriate bride to be Our new Queen and he suggested Jimene de Oviedo, an intriguing young lass from the far away lands of Iberia... By aftenoon, a courier was dispatched to ask for her hand. We await the response.
Instead of a letter, a princess came. Jimene was all the scribe said she was, and more. Passion at first sight. The wedding was a truly grand event, something for the entire country to rejoice. Hope was again in the air. As for the wedding night, well... what does the word 'toro' mean anyway, she kept calling me like that since then...
But a problem still existed, a witch to deal with. We must go on a hunt. 'Mobilize the armies and muster them on the eastern border, at the keep of Usora' Not like in the old days, 2.500 soldiers, the entire kingdom force joined under Our leadership and marched north, towards Hungary. The chancellor gained Duke Geza's approval for passage, since King Salamon already left to fight the Heathen in Lithuania. As we were at the border, a small envoy from back home joined up. Jimene on a horse and a couple of guards. She said 'You really think I would wait in Senj while you get all the glory? We go on this one together.' Even Our royal authority is not strong enough to forbid this, and, at least someone will call Us 'toro', whatever it means...
We passed through Hungary, stopping shortly at Temes. Geza was helpful, he even gathered some information, it seems the witch was seen at Peresechen. We marched onwards. Blood, battle, destruction. In the end the day was ours, but no sign of the crone, the campaign continued, blood was spilt, one fortress after another, still she managed to elude us. While we were sieging Belgorod, Jimene gave birth to a boy, We named him Hrvoje, he will make a fine king one day..., and a year and half later a boy named Zvonimir. Finally we encircled the pecheneg forces at Severin, after the Palisade fell, We started relentlessly to search for the hag. The counts of Usora, Veglia and Zachlumia at Our side. And We found her. As We rushed to slay her, she laughed and said 'You are all doomed fools.' As We had struck her vile heart with Our trusted blade she threw one last curse. The counts fell to the ground screaming in pain, yet a bright light protected us. The scene was horrible. Former comrades in arms turning into man-beasts. Werewolves. They ran out growling and dissapeared into the night. One evil after another. Is there no end.
We decided it would be safer for the children and Jimene to stay in Wallachia. We named my secondborn the Duke of these new lands, and my nephew Slavich, the Duke of the northern land of Moldau. But now We had to track down Our former comrades in arms. And We knew where they were going. Home.
One siege after another, Usora, Zachlumia and Veglia, old noble houses destroyed by a curse. But there was no alternative. We will have to govern the homelands ourselves, at least until Hrvoje grows up a bit. We did as the Lady instructed Us, but the curse was not lifted. What are We to do? We are no seer. But a few nights after she spoke to Us in a dream and said the witch was not alone, there were others involved, in lands far away, but she cannot see where yet.
A time of peace came. Too many had died in these campaigns. We need to recouperate. We had two daughters, but they died at an early age. We do not wish to talk about this... it is still too fresh. The two boys born after, Radomir and Zdeslav are healthy, and will probably grow up in fine young men.
Eight years have passed since the transdanubian campaign. And a strange message came from duke Geza of Temes. He had talked with King Salamon about his experiences in Lithuania and he spoke of witches much like the one We hunted down. This was as good of a trail as any. It is time for another expedition. We will hunt in these foreign north lands. The armies of Croatia, Moldau and Wallachia marched through Hungary and Poland all the way to the Prussian border, many fell to Our blade in those years. Five year drive, from Sambia to Holstein. Radomir got Pommerania, Zdeslav Prussia. But all We got were more rumors, nothing to lift the curse. Our armies are tired, commanders discontent. Especially Slavich. We think Our nephew might have plans to endanger Our rule. Most troubling. It is time to go home. A year after a daughter was born and I had given her Mecklenburg.
As Hrvoje celebrated his 16th birthday, an old acquantiance visited Us. The same matchmaker who brought Us and Jimene together. And he had a wife in line for Hrvoje. The Widow of the former Duke of Tuscany, Daughter of Duke of Krain. An intriguing lass. After the two were happily married, it was time for Our young heir to take some responsability. It is his time to govern Croatia. We shall withdraw to the Usora castle and coordinate the kingdom from there.
Three years of peace. The kingdom had grown a lot stronger since. Perhaps it is time to finish the work north, yet We are old, Our hands much weaker than before. But, if We do not, Who will? The armies of Croatia marched again. The Litths had taken Polotsk, so We decided to free the christian city first. That coward of a prince had fled to Minsk and hides in its walls. The Litths were no match for Us. We crushed them, city by city, fort by fort. We must confess, We had sinned on this campaign... But she was too hard to resist. We are only of flesh and blood. And she gave birth to a son... Anyway, since We freed Polotsk, We should be the duke. And, in the end we were. The child Tomislav was given Polotsk. Something to remind me of that lass...
We heard, that in the meantime Our grandson, Hrvojes eldest son Slaven had become the new Duke of Krain, inheriting the title from his grandfather. How nice for the boy.
One battle after another. Zhmud, Samogitia, Kurs, and then the Livs. None could stop Us. Their last stand was in Dorpat castle. We laid a siege. On January 3, year of Our Lord 1092. We fell asleep, and did not wake up. We dream, dream of our ancestors, dream of glory, dream of what was, what is and what will be. Hrvoje inherited, and continued the siege. But that is his story. The king is dead. Long live the king.
P.S. I will never again write in plural form for royalty. Serves me right.
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