The ship was ablaze and shore - too far to be reached. Soon enough Luc, a freshly crowned Emperor of Germania, lost his hopes - this might actually be his end. And not only his, but his entire entourage - including wife. While he was drowning in the Adriatic Sea, his thoughts wandered to his teenage son - Antoine.
Antoine was eating his breakfast when a courtier broached the news. Father - tragically buried by the sea. The entire Empire of Germania - now into his hands. Young, inexperienced, but vengeful hands.
It all seemed far too suspicious for Antoine to be shrugged away. There were a couple of insignificant survivors fished out from the sea who were convinced they heard a thump. A fire arrow, possibly, and someone who paid for that arrow to be fired. Handsomely. At that moment Antoine knew - everyone, from the lowly archer to each conspirator, all the way to the top, will hang or worse.
It was best to start digging for dirt at his own court. Luc was a generous man, so it was filled with many sycophants and snakes. However, the secrets discovered by the master of whisperers were all banal - someone cheated, someone did not believe in God, and similar tripe.
His lust for revenge and inherent stubbornness made Antoine searching for clues. The investigation took years before one such clue finally appeared. A couple of his distant relatives died under mysterious circumstances. Their deaths were soon after exposed as schemes by a feuding House - mind you, from the same Dynasty. Who else could have had an agenda against Luc if not his nemesis?
Antoine's eyes turned then to the Bohemian court, where the feuding House Head ruled from. Again, for years Antoine had to stomach the cuckoldry of various useless courtiers, their doubts against God, their petty schemes. The news kept pilling up, and Antoine kept getting drearier. Maybe it was for nothing? Maybe the fate of his father would remain unsolved? How could it? His guard was down, his posture slumped. That fateful morning he was not prepared at all to hear the next batch of whispers.
Apparently, the Bohemian snake was involved in the death of Antoine's mother. By extension, it would seem, in his father's. Why keep digging if logic can do the rest? If not logic, emotions can - surely.
This day marked a long and vicious crusade against the feuding House. Bohemia lost countless rulers, and each ruler renewed their hatred to the House de Piquant - in vain hope that they would, at last, swing the balance in their favor. But it never did. The regnal number just kept getting higher - the king is dead, long live... the king is dead again. And so, the feud had been resolved. De Piquant won. He could finally sleep.
Until the murders reappeared, this time it was his family that kept dying. Antoine had to bury three children in succession - two sons and one daughter. He swept the tears away and stoked the flames of hatred once more.
This time it was bloodier. It wasn't just murdering them in their sleep. It was warring. It was dueling. It was stealing and cuckoldering. One member of the waning House was even brought to his court to marry Antoine - there was no other way to lure her. Once lured, obviously, the bride was imprisoned and soon beheaded.
The last member to extinguish - the lonely House Head - had been forcibly incorporated into Frankia through war. Now, as a vassal, the House Head was even more vulnerable than before. Months of scheming replaced by one royal stroke on the order to imprison them. The resulting war was a blur to Antoine. Only the final result mattered. They were finally in his dungeon.
Antoine watched the burial procession a couple days later. What remained from their kin - but outside their dead House - gathered in Munchen and walked slowly through the city in somber silence. He observed them closely, noting where they put the body. Come night, he stood at the grave, spade in hand. The body of the House Head, once exposed, was visibly rotting already.
Nobody questioned the skull placed at the entrance to his royal court in the coming months. It just stood there, ominously, eye sockets dark and deep. Same as Antoine's, though. His vengeance was somehow incomplete. Nothing could cure his pain. His mother, his father, then his innocent children. Everyone from the feud. Now, what could bring him respite?
Antoine split the realm according to the customs and laws of inheritance. Each surviving child got something according to their station. An Empire to the firstborn, a daughter - had to wait. But a kingdom to the second in line? Take it and cherish it, child. A dukedom to the third, too. And so forth. Everyone got their due.
He looked at his children tenderly as he visited them, one after the other. A royal parade through the realm - to hold them in his arms and to say how proud he was of them. A dark truth awaited them, and Antoine too. They needed to part in love for this to make sense.
The respite from pain came in his private quarters in Munchen. He had just returned weary from the royal tour and asked the servants for privacy. He took a stool, a rope, and closed the door. Mother. Father. My children. I'm coming to greet you too.
****
everything in this short story was the result of in-game mechanics or events.
Antoine was eating his breakfast when a courtier broached the news. Father - tragically buried by the sea. The entire Empire of Germania - now into his hands. Young, inexperienced, but vengeful hands.
It all seemed far too suspicious for Antoine to be shrugged away. There were a couple of insignificant survivors fished out from the sea who were convinced they heard a thump. A fire arrow, possibly, and someone who paid for that arrow to be fired. Handsomely. At that moment Antoine knew - everyone, from the lowly archer to each conspirator, all the way to the top, will hang or worse.
It was best to start digging for dirt at his own court. Luc was a generous man, so it was filled with many sycophants and snakes. However, the secrets discovered by the master of whisperers were all banal - someone cheated, someone did not believe in God, and similar tripe.
His lust for revenge and inherent stubbornness made Antoine searching for clues. The investigation took years before one such clue finally appeared. A couple of his distant relatives died under mysterious circumstances. Their deaths were soon after exposed as schemes by a feuding House - mind you, from the same Dynasty. Who else could have had an agenda against Luc if not his nemesis?
Antoine's eyes turned then to the Bohemian court, where the feuding House Head ruled from. Again, for years Antoine had to stomach the cuckoldry of various useless courtiers, their doubts against God, their petty schemes. The news kept pilling up, and Antoine kept getting drearier. Maybe it was for nothing? Maybe the fate of his father would remain unsolved? How could it? His guard was down, his posture slumped. That fateful morning he was not prepared at all to hear the next batch of whispers.
Apparently, the Bohemian snake was involved in the death of Antoine's mother. By extension, it would seem, in his father's. Why keep digging if logic can do the rest? If not logic, emotions can - surely.
This day marked a long and vicious crusade against the feuding House. Bohemia lost countless rulers, and each ruler renewed their hatred to the House de Piquant - in vain hope that they would, at last, swing the balance in their favor. But it never did. The regnal number just kept getting higher - the king is dead, long live... the king is dead again. And so, the feud had been resolved. De Piquant won. He could finally sleep.
Until the murders reappeared, this time it was his family that kept dying. Antoine had to bury three children in succession - two sons and one daughter. He swept the tears away and stoked the flames of hatred once more.
This time it was bloodier. It wasn't just murdering them in their sleep. It was warring. It was dueling. It was stealing and cuckoldering. One member of the waning House was even brought to his court to marry Antoine - there was no other way to lure her. Once lured, obviously, the bride was imprisoned and soon beheaded.
The last member to extinguish - the lonely House Head - had been forcibly incorporated into Frankia through war. Now, as a vassal, the House Head was even more vulnerable than before. Months of scheming replaced by one royal stroke on the order to imprison them. The resulting war was a blur to Antoine. Only the final result mattered. They were finally in his dungeon.
Antoine watched the burial procession a couple days later. What remained from their kin - but outside their dead House - gathered in Munchen and walked slowly through the city in somber silence. He observed them closely, noting where they put the body. Come night, he stood at the grave, spade in hand. The body of the House Head, once exposed, was visibly rotting already.
Nobody questioned the skull placed at the entrance to his royal court in the coming months. It just stood there, ominously, eye sockets dark and deep. Same as Antoine's, though. His vengeance was somehow incomplete. Nothing could cure his pain. His mother, his father, then his innocent children. Everyone from the feud. Now, what could bring him respite?
Antoine split the realm according to the customs and laws of inheritance. Each surviving child got something according to their station. An Empire to the firstborn, a daughter - had to wait. But a kingdom to the second in line? Take it and cherish it, child. A dukedom to the third, too. And so forth. Everyone got their due.
He looked at his children tenderly as he visited them, one after the other. A royal parade through the realm - to hold them in his arms and to say how proud he was of them. A dark truth awaited them, and Antoine too. They needed to part in love for this to make sense.
The respite from pain came in his private quarters in Munchen. He had just returned weary from the royal tour and asked the servants for privacy. He took a stool, a rope, and closed the door. Mother. Father. My children. I'm coming to greet you too.
****
everything in this short story was the result of in-game mechanics or events.
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