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>>6173829
And as always, the damn things always lie where you think you had already searched, twice. Under some old rusty pliers and a soot-stained apron, you found the key, a hexagonal seal, it seemed to you. Lined with gold and made of a material you weren't sure you knew. As per usual, there is the usual Imperial symbolism; the laurel leaves and the eagle prominently feature. But in the centre age, an anvil is engraved, upon which a hammer is striking. Which sent lightning bolts flying from it. It was small enough to hold in your hands, but only with the tips of your fingers holding it in place upon the palm of your hand. It was quite heavy, too, so you quickly brought it over to the anvil slot.

It fits; that much it does, but alas, while the form is correct, the hexagon itself won't fall nicely in place.

''So close, yet the builders of this place seem to thwart me once more. Why, for the sake of the leaves in Greifswald, won't it fit?'' You said out loud that the more verbal expressions of frustration, you kept behind your tongue for now. Wait a minute, you thought. What if it was made to be that way? Only being able to be put in place by force, the force of, say, a smith's hammer. It would be worth a try, though you didn't know if the one you grabbed from one of the tables would last beyond the first strike.

And it didn't; with the first strike, the ancient wood of the handle split in twain. Improving, you grabbed the metal head of the hammer to make it fit that way, and after a few short hits with the metal, you made it fit.

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>>6173832


The gem in it lighted up, as the precious metals on the anvil started to warm up; it glowed with a red-golden colour, which would have burnt any touched, so you refrained from doing so.

In the centre of the hall, a being was taking form, of the same blue hue that the Vilicus was coloured with. It was a short man, a dwarf rather, with a long white beard and a black apron covering his white tunic.

''Grungi, no sorry, Grungurius, master smith, of all varieties, at your service. Be ye guest or resident, I can make and repair anything to do with metal, gold, tin, steel, adamantium, or mithral. I can forge, melt, and decorate any and all weapons, armour, and jewellery you may bring.''

He looked around the hall and to the rooms where the coals and firewood for the furnaces were kept. ''Though you might want to consider foraging for fuel first,'' he remarked.

>Greetings to you, master Grungri.
>Can't I simply cut down the trees outside?
>Is there no magical source to fuel the forges?
>Write-in.

>>6173835
>>Greetings to you, master Grungri.
yo!

>>6173835
>Greetings to you, master Grungri.
Random magical smith? hell yeah.

>>6173835
>>Greetings to you, master Grungri.

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There was no need for you to enquire about such details as the fuel reserves just yet. Yours was a busy schedule, yes, but it doesn't mean certain pleasantries aren't to be practised.

''Greetings to you, master Grungri. I am, as always, pleased to meet one such a skilled craftsman as you are. It has often been said that your people, the children of the mountains, are amongst the greatest of all smiths. Though at present I have no commissions for you, I am certain that I shall call upon your expertise some time in the future," you told the transparent blue dwarf.

''You are most kind to bestow such praise upon me, Your Lordship, in spite of the fact most of my work lies rusted upon the floor of this very hall. But spare me the compliments. If my boss has told you anything about our nature, you should know how we aren't susceptible to such things," he said.

''Indeed he did, though you seem to have enough talk in you to deceive me in that regard,'' you answered in reply.

Then came a moment of silence; both of you seemed to be at a loss as to what to discuss next. Show you decided to instead show him your heirloom sword, Silberkralle, or Silverclaw.''

''Master smith, I would like for you to examine my sword, for it has been quite some time since it has been inspected by a proper smith. It is a mithral blade, so by its very nature it shouldn't dull or rust.'' You drew the blade and laid it before him on the anvil.

You saw the eyes of the old smith lighten up as he bowed over the exposed sword. ''Ah, you could make two gladii from the amount that went into this blade. The mithril itself is devoid of any impurities and is as sharp as the day its maker plunged it into the water to cool off. Hhhmmm, the crossguard has been decorated with a silvered eagle, has it? Let's see what else; the balance is most splendid, though the leather grip of the hilt may need to be rebound soon; a piece of it has come loose, you see. May I? He asked

''Sure,'' you answered.

In spite of his somewhat thick fingers, he seemed to handle the removal of the grip with great skill and grace. He held a piece of it close to his nose and sniffed. ''Cow's leather, good enough; I once got to make a hilt for a tribune's sword with crocodile leather, possibly the most unique thing I ever held in my career.''

''What's a crocodile?'' You asked.

''A big reptile, which looks a bit like a dragon if you squint, has no wings, nor can it breathe fire; they live in the rivers of Kahement and further down south.''

''Have you ever seen one?''

''No, the governor of Kahement told me when he came to commission the hilt. And—ah, someone left an inscription beneath the grip, in Elvish it seems.'' He looked at the exposed metal with curiosity.

''Can you read it?'' You asked

>>6174277
''Son, I have been reading this type of thing for a long time; every so once in a while, the Elven or Dwarven auxiliaries came along and asked me or some other unlucky sod to etch words or runes in their armour or weapons. By the end of my career, I had become a polyglot. In the written word at least, because all members of the legions are to speak Isidorian when on the job. Anyway, it reads: Nin mel an cin shall n- uireb, na cin, im on- cin hi magol, Arth-Galad. Which roughly means: My love for you shall be eternal, to you, I give you this sword, Arth-Galad. Who Arth-Galad is I cannot tell you; elves like to give people with whom they are friendly names in Elvish. Usually they simply grab the meaning of your normal name and then translate that into their language. At any rate, let me rebind the leather, would you?''

While you watched Grungri labour in silence, you were left with one singular question: Who the hell is Arth-Galad? As Grungri worked on the sword, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Arth-Galad than an inscription hidden in a sword, but for now it would have to do.

You were handed back the sword, and you placed it back in its scabbard. It was at that moment the Vilicus began to appear as he descended through the roof; incorporeal as he was, he could simply walk through the walls and floors of the palace.

''I was alarmed by an appearance of an energy pulse here, and—ah. You have found Grungurius, have you? I hope he hasn't been terribly impolite.'' The toga-clad overseer of the palace asked you.

''Don't worry your perfumed little buttocks about it, Vilicus; I ain't about to insult the good lad who woke me up from my little nap.''

''Yes, I am starting to remember why Lord Titus had your Clavis removed when he was done here.'' The vilicus loudly mumbled to himself.

''Aye, and he was a right proper cunt for it,'' Grungri mockingly said.

>What's a clavis
>I take it the working relationship inst very sunny.
>Vilicus, I have need of fuel, procure it for me, if you please.
>Write-in

>>6174278
Oh yes, and the Pastebin and Archive links.

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Settler%20Lord%20Quest

Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/u/Adlershorst

>>6174278
>Write-in: "Peace please. It's bad form to bicker in front of guests."
>What's a clavis?

>>6174328
support

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That last comment made you twitch your eye a little; colleagues would usually bicker among one another, but most would be professional to keep such matters away from any customers or guests. And thus, it was up to you to bring order to these two.

''Peace, please. It's bad form to bicker in front of guests." You said, perhaps louder than you had intended.

''My apologies if we have offended you, young master, but this is how we usually talk to each other. There isn't any malice in it; why old Grung and I served in the legion when we were younger. When you go as far back as we do, ha, we would wish each other a pleasant death whenever the camp was under attack; normally he wouldn't leave his smith's tent save when we were on the move.''

''Yeah, yeah, you big softie, I am fond of you too, you sentimental old tar,'' Grungri said to him.

''And you're doing it again,'' you said.

''Back off, you. What flies between members of the legions, retired or not. Is the legion's own business. An eternal brotherhood, forged in sweat and blood. Don't take offence if you hear us trading barbs; it's just how we two old men spend our time when there aren't any guests.''

''Right, right, anyway, what's a clavis?'' You asked.

''A key, or rather the general word for keys, our clavii, is what makes us function.'' He motioned you over to the anvil. ''Within the gem of Grungri's clavis is stored the information that makes him function. We are formed from the memory of Emperor Titus, who copied and then stored these memories in gems like this. Mine is kept somewhere else; the astronomer has one, as does the groundskeeper. The larger the key, or well 'key,' the more autonomous one can function. Grungi gem makes him capable of interacting with items, but he can't leave this room. I can't interact with anything physical, but I can go where I please.''

>Could one cheat death in such a manner?
>Do you have any warstories?
>Write-in.

>>6174653
>Do you have any warstories?
>Write-in: "where is the astronomers key?"

>>6174653
>>Could one cheat death in such a manner?

Ah, fellow soldiers then, or at the very least, the veterans of some great war or another. You were here for matters relating to war after all. When you were but a lad, you would read and hear about the gallant wars the chivalric armies of modernity have fought, yet you had never heard the stories of the great organised armies of yore. Legions marching in lockstep, marching and campaigning far from home for the glory of their realm. Commanded by men who for some war is a matter of craft, rather than a matter of birth.

''Do you have any war stories? Of great commanders who led you to foreign shores and lands? With whom would you bring low the barbarians and the enemies of the Emperors?'' You asked of the duo.

''Oh, there's plenty, but we need to recall some of them first,'' they told you. You can always come back to it later.

''About the Clavis, one cheats death in such a manner if the crystal or gem is good enough, that is.'' You asked them.

''You could, yes. But the price you would be paying for something like that would be very high. You know of phylacteries, used by those who would cheat death but retain their bodies? To place one's soul in one clavis is to kiss both death and your body goodbye. The soul would become trapped within such a gem, a jar to store your soul in, so to speak. Criminals in the Mithradian city-states would be sentenced to death and have their souls trapped in such things before being released after sixty years to punish them. The greatest evil we fought during our service made use of such magics. Which reminds me, you wanted a war story; you shall have one.''

>>6175381
''It was just after we had been transferred away from the northern limes; there we had subdued a few unruly Tautenic tribes in a punitive expedition the previous year. But we had received news of trouble on the eastern borders, so Emperor Titus cut the expedition short. Beyond the eastern limes, which stretched across the great deserts, drylands, and mountains of the Near Orient. An immortal king had arisen. We had kept tabs on what was happening in the region, but the news came unexpectedly. He was the lord of some minor mountain principality but had, in the years of his reign, perfected the art of soul transfer. He would place his soul in the bodies of his offspring whenever his body would wear out. And he created from the souls of his greatest warriors an elite cadre of immortals. Metal man, unfeeling and merciless, driven and powered by their souls.''

''Like the undead?'' You asked.

'i] ''Worse than that.'' The vilicus grimaced. ''With the undead, you would only need to kill whomever was puppeteering them; these abominations could function apart from their masters. They were hard to kill, and he had a great many of them. Strong they were too, without shields, but with a great weapon we could never hope to lift. He marched first to the city of Cyridia. Which his metal army took by chiselling through the walls. Once inside, they left nothing but destruction in their wake, slaughtering all who dared to resist. The city fell within hours; he would take eight more cities before we had mustered enough to march against him.''

''We lost the first few engagements; neither we nor the leadership really knew how to deal with such a foe, which led to great losses and routs early on. Eventually we started to overwhelm through sheer numbers and our better manoeuvrability.''

''Bloody ironic, considering how much armour you lot would wear in the field,'' Grungri commented.

''We managed to draw them into a valley with steep cliffs. We were ordered to hold the line against them; we were hard-pressed that day. Six cohorts were annihilated, killed to the man, in the fighting. But then the emperor executed his plan.''

>>6175382
''He had flown up to the cliffs on his Pegasus, from there he cast a spell that was so bright and hot I fought the sun had come down upon the earth. When it was over, and to my surprise we weren’t dead, we could finish off the rest of the metal monstrosities, half molten as they were, with little difficulty. We pursued the immortal king into his mountain fortresses, but Emperor Titus fought better of it, and melted the stone of the citadel his enemy was hiding in. A great triumph was held the day we returned to the capital, and that’s about all I remember’’

‘’And where, then is, the Astronomer’s key?’’ you asked.

‘’Somewhere at the top of the tower, don’t ask me where it exactly is. Go to the top first, then I can help you, maybe. See you around, I heard the climbing for stairs is good for one's health.’’ And the vilicus disappeared into the thin air once more.

With nothing better to do, you left the smithing hall, took the corridor back up to the surface floor via the stairs, crossed the inner courtyard before entering the central tower, from where you began climbing the central spiral stairs. You decided to take your time in ascending the stairs, the height of the tower could leave you exhausted before you even reached the top.
And you climbed, up, and up. In an endless circle you slowly ascended to the top of the great tower, you first reached the room with the Panopticon, before you took another set of stairs up into the great dome that form the roof of the damn thing. You took one look through the dusty old half-attic, half-observatory and began searching.

Roll 1D100 [DC 60] to see if you can find the astronomer's key.

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>6175388

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>6175388

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>6175388

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You begin searching and digging through years and years of dusty old uncompiled notes that were never delivered to the archives for one reason or another. The slot where the key was supposed to be was at the centre of the room, in the supporting structure of the solar system.

Though you accidentally hit yourself on the head by crashing it into a supporting beam, you did manage to have a closer look. There was one great orb in the middle. Surrounded by smaller spheres on rings, all of these planets were well known to you; these had been in common learning since antiquity.

At the centre stood the world, Illurbis. Surrounding that were the moon and then the sun. Beyond that lay the planets, and then came the stars. Through these, the gods would signal future events to their faithful, their only method of communicating with mortals since the covenant of non-interference.

You found the key under a scrap of parchment, which out of curiosity you decided to read. The contents of it are beyond both your knowledge of Isidorian and astrology; it would seem to be the incoherent ramblings of a lunatic, talking about the mass and weight of the sun compared to the world, how frustrated the author is at not being able to calculate such a thing, and that he had his suspicions about the sun, not the world, being the centre.

You didn't really care, nor did you understand the arguments that were laid before you, so you laid the parchment aside and took the key, which was made of a bluish-grey stone with silver engravings in the form of stars and floral patterns. With you back to the model.

>>6175889


This one went in without a hassle. Though nothing or no one appeared. Strange; normally they would have appeared by now. You immediately cried, ''Vilicus, I require your presence!''

The ghost of the man appeared in a second

''Yes, young master, what's the matter?''

''Your astronomer hasn't appeared, though I placed his clavis in the slot.''

''Oh, I had forgotten about that; the astronomer will only be manifested at the light of the moon and stars. In other words, you have to wait a few hours until sunset. I take it you shall remain here to await him? In that case, I shall have something edible sent upwards at about 6 o'clock.''

You agreed and sat down upon a nearby chair; for extra comfort, you took off your belt and scabbard and laid them down upon the table. You watched as the sky turned from a pale blue to a red-orange, which then slowly cooled to a dark blue, only lit up by stars and the moon.

Twas then, that out of the pale moonlight stepped a man in blue robes, a silver circlet adorned upon his head, he towered over you, though you weren't short of stature yourself, for a human that is. As you got closer to him, you could see with clear sight that he was an elf; the long ears that kept his hair in check testified to that. You could guess from the stars upon the fabric of his clothing that he was, indeed, an astronomer. He gave you a curt nod.

''Greetings unto you, young one. I am Ilwëcenda, the court astronomer of this here establishment.'' He paused for a bit.

''Do you have need of any of my services? I am rather grateful to you for giving me a chance to see the night sky once more.''

>Can you perform a scrying? I have need of information from the future.
>Master astronomer, when shall the winter solstice come?
>write-in.

>>6175890
>Can you perform a scrying? I have need of information from the future.
>Master astronomer, when shall the winter solstice come?
Winter solstice is the most important one.

''Master astronomer, when shall the winter solstice come?'' You asked.

''Certainly, give me just a few minutes to review my notes. What year is it?''

''1254 Anno Curia.'' You answered.

''I am not familiar with that calendar. But if it started 1254 years ago, a lot of cycles must have happened during my absence. The winter solstices usually happen somewhere between the twentieth and the twenty-second day of the last month of the year. The last records I have date back to 52503=-1302 Coranartar, the Elven calendar of yore, but this is beginning to be a bit tricky because I don't think either of us knows how much time has passed between our calendars.'' He said.

''Well, from what I remember, the last High King of the Elves died about 19000 years before the start of our calendar.'' You told him.

''Oh, why didn't you say that right away? The High King died in the year 34805 Coranartar. And that would mean that, due to the natural cycle that the planet moves in, the winter solstice shall fall on the twenty-second. Then the day shall be shortest, and afterwards the Northern Hemisphere shall start to experience longer days while the south shall enter its colder seasons.''

>>6176447
''And how do you know all of this? You haven't calculated anything, nor have you written anything down, or is this some ancient Elven knowledge that has been kept out of the hands of the younger ones?

''I've spent the good majority of my career calculating the course of the world in which we live, young man. I can do the calculations in my head as if I were haggling for apples at the market. In the ancient days, when the great realms of the firstborn stood tall and great, there were those who sailed the world oceans and there discovered many a great thing; the northern half of the world shall have summer while the south has its winter, and so forth. But no, the solstice falls on the 22nd, no matter what.''

''As for your other question, I can scry for you, but be warned that the signs the stars give do not always make sense. Most messages are drenched in symbolism and metaphors. I can tell you the signs, but I cannot tell you what they mean. So write down what I shall say, because you shall be guessing and interpreting for a long time. Now let us start; we shall go outside to the night sky.''

The heavens were clear that night; the moon was at its fullest. You had both quill and parchment with you. The astronomer began looking at the stars and, to your surprise, began singing.

>>6176448
When you were a boy, you had heard that Elvish singing was among the most beautiful things there are, so clear, so pure; they used to say that such songs could be used to bring down mountains or be used in the making of great creations. He sang in a long and melancholic tune. Seeing the unseen, bridging the unbridgeable, a faint glow began coming from him, but he continued to sing, his voice weaving through the night air like a spell. The words were foreign to you, but the emotion behind them was unmistakable, awakening something deep within your soul. When he stopped, he seemed more corporeal than his colleagues, almost as if he was really there.

''Thou plea, it has been heard. Heed these words well and think of them often, for they shall be the chart to navigating the treacherous path upon which you have embarked: The snake is strangling the eagle, who is wounded from his fight with the bull. The eagle's flock looks on in indecisiveness, while the ravens, crows and other vultures circle from a distance. There shall come a time of confrontation, from which you can either withdraw, within the safety of the valleys you have secluded yourself in, or act, uniting and reconciling those who have lost their way.''

You scribbled it all down, thanked the elf for his time and expertise, and then quickly and quietly retired for the night back to your room.

The following morning, after breakfast, you decided to confer once more with your closest advisor about the next steps in the coming months; the 22nd of Nivosus was still two months away, and there was much to be done, both here and in the wider world. You had been here for about a week now, and while this most wondrous palace is presumably filled with hidden treasures and wonders, you still have matters elsewhere that you need to attend to.

Any trust that the Mithradian court might have had in any of the crusaders has probably been evaporated by the declarations and pretensions of Raymond, who now styles himself King, no ''King'' of Amaliona. You know Mithradian pretty well; perhaps you should try your hand at reassuring the Mithradians by paying a visit. By now, your lieutenant in Trorinolis should have gotten the replies from the other leaders of the larger crusading armies; perhaps it is time to go back there to arrange a meeting?

> We shall remain here until the new year. I want this place turned inside out before I leave it.
>Good relations with the Mithradians are crucial for success in this damned war, and I can't communicate with them from here; we should go back to Trorinolis and contact the government from there.
>With each day that passes, Raymond makes himself more and more the master of the Amaliona. It is time I act, to form a united front by organising a meeting between myself, Castelanne, Marlwick, and Westernesse.

>>6176449
>>Good relations with the Mithradians are crucial for success in this damned war, and I can't communicate with them from here; we should go back to Trorinolis and contact the government from there.

>>6176449
>Good relations with the Mithradians are crucial for success in this damned war, and I can't communicate with them from here; we should go back to Trorinolis and contact the government from there.

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You cannot stay here. The outside world is moving at its own pace, and you cannot act accordingly if you stay here. The infidel has been trounced, but not defeated. As far as you know, they could still come back.

Then there are the other two headaches you have. When you got here, you managed to quietly usurp command of an army-in-the-making from their reluctant commander. It was a plot by the noble Mithradian family, the Maniakids, to overthrow the present dynasty. Prokopios Maniakes isn't someone who will be pleasantly disposed to you should he take the throne, and you aren't too fond of him either. Besides that, Raymond's little stunt has practically jeopardised whatever goodwill there once was between the crusading armies and the imperial court.

Likewise, the crusading momentum shall most likely be upended, and initiative shall fall into the hands of the Mizarians before the year is out should this situation prove irreparable. Things have become very delicate in these parts.

No, it is time for you to ride back to Trorinolis; from there you shall make contact with the imperial government, perhaps having the Eparch throw in a good word on your behalf as well. From there on, you shall make an attempt to forge a united front against the upstart Raymond and stop him from gaining any more strength.

The next morning you bid the Vilicus farewell after breakfast. You stepped through the portal that would bring you back to the temple through which you had found this place. From there on out it was easy riding back to Trorinolis. By Greifswalder standards, the temperatures were pleasant for the time of year, though dark clouds were coming from the east as you rode closer and closer to your destination.

>>6176947
As soon as you had ridden through to your headquarters, you immediately wrote down a letter that you hoped would explain the situation that you and some of the other crusaders found yourselves in. How what Raymond is doing is wrong and unjust, and how you have returned all the territory you recovered to the empire, the Eparch of the city also put in some reassurances and praises of your conduct in the time that you had been there.

You had written it in flawless Mithradian, and you also wrote a smaller letter to Eleftherios, confiding to him that your search has been a success and it was well worth the visit. It was a nicety to yourself, so you thought, one letter for matters of friendship and the other for matters of state.

You had the quickest horse you had (aside from Wittekind) made ready with the most able rider to ride at breakneck speed for Elisnikon. You will not be blindsided with the conniving of the scum of the earth, who so dearly cling on to the pretension of nobility; no Maniakid nor Montpelerin would stop you in this matter.

With the letters out of the gate, you decide to start implementing some of the other things on the agenda. You send out ransom notes to the Mizarians for their prisoners while you let them work on creating a system of canals, reservoirs, and terraces in accordance with the tome on Dwarven agriculture you found.

You had sent your scribe, Ulrich, back to the palace to copy the pages of as many books as possible for future use, of course. The palace itself was a useful resource to you; the forge it boasts can supply your may if amply supplied, and you won't abandon it completely. It can also act as a safehouse in case of a truly great disaster or in case you need to hide someone or something. To that end, one of the places to be considered as a target for next year's campaign would be the iron mines in a valley to the north.

>>6176948
And, things returned to their normal routine. You trained, planned, held meetings with the Eparch, and curried favour with both the local Mithradian elites and your direct subordinates. There were problems and incidents here and there, but nothing the provosts and city watch couldn't handle. To your surprise, some of the soldiers had taken on a local wife, not merely the Mithradian ones, but the Tauten ones as well. You supposed it would be a matter of time, especially after you had let them take leave here, but you preferred being able to depart without any attachments.

It was a cold autumn morning when you were inspecting the renovation of the walls when a runner came up to you. Holding a letter.

''A message for you, my lord, came from some self-important fellow with a silly hat.''

You dismissively took the letter and thanked the runner for it. You would read it as soon as you were back inside.

The letter itself was unmarked, with no seals or indication of its origins. The contents were written in Auruncian, so it wasn't from Anastasios, nor from the Mizarians, nor was it from your fellow countryman; this was a westerner who was contacting you.
My friend,

Though we haven't spoken in person before, we have met before, in the halls of Emperor Anastasius. I am sending you this message out of a belief that our interests might be aligned. The last few months I have been watching the situation in Mithras unfold, and though my own duties have on occasion kept me busy elsewhere, I can tell you that I am within the vicinity once more.

I shall be brief on the matter; I want to meet in the coastal town of Athra. Once there I shall explain to you in more detail.

I hope you can join us.

Carlo Scandellago, the Doge of Alotoro

So, the final player puts his pieces on the board. The Castanan merchants of Alotoro have kept the seas clear of any infidels so far, but they themselves are at least partially responsible for the sorry state the Mithradian Empire finds itself in. They're a finicky bunch, those Castanans.

>I shall not be lowered into talking with the likes of him, burn the letter.
>I am willing to hear what he says, but not without escort, and he never mentioned that I should come alone.

>>6176950
>I am willing to hear what he says, but not without escort, and he never mentioned that I should come alone.

>>6176950
>I am willing to hear what he says, but not without escort, and he never mentioned that I should come alone.

I had another idea to put forward, a letter to the bandit Maurus complimenting him on securing the iron mine from the foul heathen, requesting that he muster his men for our spring campaign and resume shipment of iron promising glory and wealth to come in the next campaign season. If we can flip him over to our side it can kill two birds with one stone.

>>6177326
seconded, sounds like a good scheme

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You decide upon taking up the Doge's offer of a meeting. While Raymond may have the largest army on the island, barring the Mithradians were they to come in full force, the Alotorans control the seas around the archipelago. Hearing him may be worth the time, if nothing else. Though you do have second thoughts about his own plans for the region. Powerful or not, men like him only care about the flow of trade, upon which the merchant princes are dependent.

Before leaving for the meeting, you write one more letter to the bandit headman, Maurus. Though you did not know if he could read or not, in it, you put various flatteries, congratulating him on keeping the precious iron mines out of the hands of the infidels and asking him if he were willing to resume the iron shipments to you; you also put in offers of a general pardon and clemency if he were willing to join you in the next campaign come the next spring.

You did know much about Maurus, but hopefully, he is more like the merry outlaws who steal from the rich and give to the poor or the likes of the outlaw bands who would wage a war of shadows against the tyrants of the past rather than a common brigand. You had enquired about his past with the Eparch, according to whom Maurus was either a deserter from the imperial army, who turned to a life of crime after his unit was killed. Or the son of peasants, who fled to the mountains after he was caught rustling goats and sheep.

You would deal with Maurice later; for now, you were content with meeting the Dodge. You set out with a good escort of horses, for you would ride for a few short days before reaching the coast.

>>6177446
You rode through over the fields and hills, until descending be the coast. From there, you rode over the beach to your destination. In the town of Athra, located in a cove, the houses were all huddled together and painted white, with small windows. The harbour was mostly populated by small fishing vessels, but a larger vessel, adorned with the flag of Alotoro, was also present. It wasn't the Doge's flagship, because that thing wouldn't fit there. You arrived at sunset, just in time for dinner, and the Alotorans had prepared for you a meal of pasta with tuna. The Dodge mostly kept to more casual subjects for as long as the dinner lasted; afterwards, he invited you outside. You walked out of the inn; the Alotorans had invited you in, back to the harbour. Before the two of you left, you thought about removing your sword to gain some trust.

''Keep your weapon; after all, I keep mine at my side as well.'' He made the coin purse on his belt jingle.

''When you first got here, you arrived on a ship chartered under the Alotoran flag. Is that correct?'' He asked.

''Yes, why'd you ask? It seems a bit trivial," you answered.

''I have always been very interested in what my captains have to say and who and what they transport. That is also how I found out you smuggled out Cephalas Maniakes. That was quite bold of you, my friend. But I am afraid that such news spreads fast, needless to say. Prokopios is very interested in having both you and his brother be brought before him.''

''Needless to say, I am not interested in having Prokopios claiming the imperial throne, but Raymond's antics combined with Prokopios having successfully murdered Anastasios's eldest son have given him more support among the court than he should have. Anastasios can behead, blind, and banish as many of them as he pleases, but those methods have their limits. Anastasios is clever, but too inflexible with his wrath and mercy to understand his support base is slipping from his fingers.'' He stroked his thin moustache.

>And how would you know of this?
>What is your stake in this? Money?
>You seem to be a little to well-informed for my tastes, your serenity.
>Write-in.

>>6177447
>You seem to be a little to well-informed for my tastes, your serenity.

>>6177447
>You seem to be a little to well-informed for my tastes, your serenity.

Something was off; the Dodge was a little too well-informed for your tastes. That he had been able to find out you had arranged for Cephalas' escape made you feel a sudden bout of distrust towards the man. Did he intend to blackmail you? To do his bidding? To act as his muscle while he secures various ports and cities. Probably not, or he would have done so in his letter. Besides that, the only thing he could threaten you with is making you an enemy of the Emperor.

Castanans do have a history of intrigues and spycraft that would leave any outsider confused about what is happening behind the curtains. Their little machinations and plots to secure and advance their positions, both within and outside their merchant republics. An assassination here, a bribe there, the intimidation or buying of voters. Honestly, the amount of plots and scandals of those republics makes you wonder why they even bothered with the whole thing in the first place.

Still, you decide to voice your suspicions

''You seem to be a little too well-informed for my tastes, your serenity.'' You told him.

His eyes shortly gave off a hint of amusement, and he mockingly pursed his lips. ''I am but a humble merchant; I simply tell you what I have been told. But in seriousness.'' His voice became heavier. ''Having a network of agents and feelers out and about is what one must do to stay ahead in the game. I don't bother with assassination or other lower forms of the hooded ones. We merchants typically are at each other's throats all the time, so we need informants and spies to keep us safe and one step ahead of the competition; this goes double for our foreign affairs.''

He paused.

>>6177652


''Our diplomats are authorised to find and gather information that may be useful to the common interest of the republic; gold opens many mouths and many doors. Especially among those spendthrifts that so litter the royal courts. To give you an example, what do you know of Montpelerin?''

''He's from Aurilie, related to their King, and too ambitious for his own good.'' You told him.

''A rough sketch, you have an image of him that isn't inaccurate but very basic. Through one of my subordinates, who was working as a representative for the trading family in the area, I have been able to gather some more: He's short, with a brown, curt beard and receding hairline, and is very petty and self-conscious. His original plan was to claim the entire island and demand your oath of loyalty, but he was dissuaded by his lords. This was all extracted from one of his courtiers, who indulged in drinks and gambling a little too much and sold some secrets to us.''

''Montpelerin is useful; you see him as a disreputable cur, which he is. But he is a stopgap, bottled up in his little kingdom, trapped between the Mithradians and the infidels; he keeps both of them at bay, for now. Which gives us time and room to operate with considerably more freedom than usual. Montpelerin is a small fry, deluded with ideas of his own greatness; his hold on power is more tenuous than he would like you to believe. He can always be dealt with later. It is the Mithradians who need our gracious intervention.''

''Do they now? Last I saw, the current regime seems to keep itself relatively stable.'' He said

''A good facade, I admit. There are things you don't know about the inner machinations of their court. When you and the other crusaders left, the Cardinal and I were invited for dinner with him. There, he would start coughing up blood, and in the months that I have seen him since, he has grown paler and more feeble; the death of his eldest son has made him completely lethargic. His dynasty is either to be led by a wastrel or one of his daughters. A Maniakid Mithras is closer than you might think.''

''Why are you so interested in what will happen then? It seems to me that you want to pick your own emperor.'' You said.

''Maybe I do, but there is more to it than that. The Mithradian government and some of their noble families have racked up massive debts with our merchants and bankers. Prokopios would default on the debt the second he sat on the throne. What I want is very simple: a stable Mithras that is open to trade and is paying its dues to us. That means there are no isolationists on the throne, that the infidels are to be thrown back to their little sandbox, and Raymond is sent crying back to Aurilie.''

''What is your plan, then, to secure a stable future for both you and Mithras?'' You asked.

>>6177655

''I will work behind the scenes; I shall look for a suitable replacement in place of Anastasios' son. This replacement will have to be quickly confirmed by the Senate and then consecrated by the patriarch of Elisnikon, so it will take some time for me to find someone who fits the bill. If things go awry, and, as unlikely as it may be, Prokopios would execute a coup. We should countercoup as soon as possible if it does come to that. I would like for you to help me in that regard; Prokopios isn't particularly popular among the regular army, but the palace guards and city watch are different beasts. If it comes so far, I would ask that you return at once to the capital. My navy will transport you across the waters. With a bit of luck, the Mithradian general will refuse his usurpation. Then we can kill it in the crib. That is all I ask of you: to act as backup in case matters go wrong or events travel faster than they should.''

>And if it truly goes wrong? Say we don't arrive in time and Prokopios is truly made emperor?
>What game are you playing here, Your Serenity? Are you asking us to intervene in a potential civil war in Mithras? What if I am engaged elsewhere if Prokopios reveals himself?
>I would be most happy to help you in this regard, Your Serenity. If the signal is given, and you call for my aid, I shall answer.
>I am sorry, Your Serenity. But I must refuse; I cannot partake in such a game of skuldug

>>6177656
>What game are you playing here, Your Serenity? Are you asking us to intervene in a potential civil war in Mithras? What if I am engaged elsewhere if Prokopios reveals himself?
>write in:"Why do you even consider me? "

You had never been good at this type of thing. Father considered such plotting to be a low and dishonourable act. He isn't averse to making backroom deals; that is how he acquired his duchy, after all. But in truth, he would never consider a coup or interfering in the affairs of other nations in such a manner. Mother did teach you something, mostly about being on guard for yes-men, flatterers, and orbiters. But most of that was how to react, not how to act. But you had enough sense in your head that you knew when someone was drawing you into a scheme.

''What game are you playing here, Your Serenity? Are you asking us to intervene in a potential civil war in Mithras? What if I am engaged elsewhere if Prokopios reveals himself?'' If you were on the other end of the Island, it could take a month of maybe more before you were back, that would be time Prokopios could use.

''That is a possibility. I cannot ask you to break off immediately, but you shouldn't worry that much in such a case; I have a backup plan.'' He told you in a reassuring tone.

A backup plan, one of which you don't even know the details. Perhaps that is for the best.

"Why do you even consider me?" You asked him.

He gave you a smirk.

''Do you think you're the only one I send a letter to? You are my first choice; I admit to that. Raymond won't cooperate or see it as an opportunity to sit on the throne himself; Castelanne spent a good chunk of his army taking a fortress up north. Marlwick is wracked with bouts of gout, and his army is dying of camp fever. Westernesse spends most of his time trying to clear out the remaining pockets of resistance there; these three could act as your substitute if it was necessary. There are other crusaders on their way here who can do the same. I have a friend among the strategoi who can keep Prokopios occupied. Your participation in this plan isn't crucial to its success, but it would greatly aid with the pace at which it can be executed.'' he told you.

''And if Prokopios does succeed? Say he manages to secure the loyalty of the army and the senate. And he cements his position as emperor. What will we do then?

The Dodge's features shifted to one of grim determination as he responded, "If that were to happen, I shall do everything in my power to ensure his downfall. The Mithradians have borrowed too much money for us to let them go now. It would ruin several banking houses and merchant families; if that were to truly happen, I would have no choice but to directly seize whatever the Mithradian treasury contains. It would be that or economic ruin for La Serenissima, capiche?''

>In that case, I would be happy to help, Your Serenity. May such a day never come to pass.
>I must decline your offer, Your Serenity. But my conscience cannot permit it.

>>6178023
>I must decline your offer, Your Serenity. But my conscience cannot permit it.
I worry this would just be letting a bunch of wealthy merchants to get their hooks into us. If they can coup an empire, dealing with us the second we do something they dislike would be a trifle.

>>6178023
>I must decline your offer, Your Serenity. But my conscience cannot permit it.
He never even offered us anything substantial for it. Does this guy think we'll just do his bidding no questions asked?

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This is too shifty for your tastes. And aside from that, this glorified merchant wants you to do his bidding without letting you know what exactly you stand to gain from this arrangement. Nor do you trust his plans; he has designs on this empire, and while he talks about using Raymond as a pawn, isn't he also hoping to turn you into a pawn? To be used to put strings on the empire, and to be discarded and sacrificed if the need arises. No, thanks, you deal with Prokopios the old-fashioned way. By running either your sword or your lance through him. Should he take the empire, you will dispose of him through a passage of arms. So you tell as much.

''I must decline your offer, Your Serenity. But my conscience cannot permit it.'' You said in a firm tone. Whatever this moustached peddler was trying to sell to you, you wouldn't have it. You were half of a mind to insult him with an insult made for his kind, something with copper, but you decided otherwise.

''A pity; I had hoped for a productive cooperation, but I am not as petty or as small-minded to bear a grudge. I thank you for at least being willing to hear me out. I hope we can depart on friendly terms and that we may meet in favourable circumstances in the future.'' If he is disappointed, he is hiding it well. Nevertheless, you decided against staying the night; you rode back inland and only set up camp when you thought yourself out of their reach.

It was hard riding back to Trorlinos; a hailstorm had made the roads into mud, and your cloaks couldn't handle the rains. It was a journey of dirty breeches, pulling horses out of the mud. And soaked clothing, but you managed to pull through. As you rode back through the gates and back inside, you changed clothes before receiving the report you wanted about the bandit Maurus.

To determine what kind of man Maurus is, roll a 1d100, if you please.

1-34: Maurus is the last of a once-prominent noble family, whose estates had been burnt by the enemy. He led the survivors into the woods and hills, from where he wages a guerilla war. He is a true patriot and more than eager to help you in the war effort.

35-67: Maurus was once a lower-ranking officer in the imperial army; now, without purpose or master, he made off for the wilds, where he set up his own little army. Cynical and world-weary, Maurus is willing to hear you out, but yearns for something more peaceful.

68-100: Maurus is nothing more than a hoary old bandit, with no loyalties save his own coffers. He is willing to sell you iron at exorbitant prices but wants you to stay clear of his own turf.

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>6178153

>>6178241
Well hell, I guess it is to be a battle then.

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>6178153
I'm just gonna roll and convince the QM as the player who suggested this plan this should be the roll he takes.

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According to the men you had sent into Maurus' territory, there seemed to be an absence of, well, anything. The villages were all empty, or so it was thought at first. As it turns out, the villagers tend to hide whenever someone, or something, comes approaching, as Maurus' men tend to round up the young to work in the mines. These people are kept in line through a regime of terror and intimidation. At this point, only the old and the crippled, as well as the very young, are left in the villages.

When they did come across his men, your men feigned interest in buying some of his iron ore. However, as they haggled, Maurus' true intentions became clear. He demanded a hefty price for the ore and threatened violence if it was not paid. Fortunately for your horsemen, the brigands are more used to intimidating poorly armed and armoured peasants, not professional men-at-arms. They quickly broke through Maurus' feeble bodyguards and left for Trorlinos and have been awaiting your return for a few days.

From what you can gather, Maurus and co. are not professionals, at least not when it comes to proper setpiece battles; rather, they prefer targets that don't fight back.

You had fought against this type of scum before; in Greifswald, such men would often hide deep in the woods. Preying on isolated villages and caravans, Father had a series of specialist rangers patrol these forests, which helped, though some of them moved deeper into the forest, where things dark and dangerous dwell, so that problem usually solves itself; on the other hand, they tend to stick to sparsely populated areas on the border, where the men-at-arms are less thorough.

It was nearing the end of Pulvimons (X), and the winter solstice would happen at just over the halfway point of Nivosus. So you still had time, if you so wished, to pull a quick one, jump Maurus, kick him in the shins, and have his head on the Eparch's desk before the winter is even here. On the other hand, it might be prudent to postpone such actions until the new year.

>Maurus is a loose end that should have been tied up long ago; we will march.
>Though it pains my heart, I cannot aid the poor fellows who suffer under his oppression until next spring.

>>6178589
>Maurus is a loose end that should have been tied up long ago; we will march.

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You wouldn't be much of a knight were you to let the evildoers of this earth harm the innocent without taking action. Ever since you were but a squire, no, but a page in your father's court. You have been instilled with a sense of justice. The commoners till the fields, mine the ores, and yield you your taxes; it is, therefore, within your interests to protect these good fellows from those who mean them harm.

You marched lightly with as few waggons as possible, as you wouldn't want to be stuck in any autumn mud before delivering battle. You ordered the men to wear their woollen red cloaks to protect them from the wind and the cold. A pleasant surprise it was when the weather stayed clear for the coming days, and roads thus dried up.

You crossed a bridge over the river and took the road up north into the valley where the iron mines were located. You ordered the men to be billeted in one of the abandoned villages for the night while planning your next move.

''Maurus won't give us battle; he knows his men aren't cut out to fight ours. He will remain hidden and only re-emerge when we have left.'' One of the men said.

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>>6178738


''Then we should force him out of hiding by squeezing where it hurts, his iron mines; we'll do it slowly and carefully so that he will muster out his men. Bandits are cowardly creatures, and I have a feeling that he'll only come out if we hurt his income," you told the man.

In the two weeks that followed, you and your men marched upon a variety of mines; the guards stationed there were easily dispatched with a crossbow bolt to the throat. And what you found inside was truly sickening; boys and girls as young as ten work themselves to the bone alongside their parents. You quickly freed the lot of them. It might have been careless to send them straight back to their villages, but you knew that Maurus would be kept busy with you.

It was when you were marching towards another mine that your scout spotted something that could be called an army. When you first saw what they had been composed of, you couldn't help but laugh. There's a reason bandits don't rob castles, and it's the same reason as the one here. You and your men are too well armed.

This is going easy, is what you thought as you ordered the footman and archers into the line formations. You spotted the enemy had about ten men on horseback; one of them probably was Maurus.

>Have the calavry poke at their flanks, ride on, regroup and then charge them from the back.
>Order the crossbowmen to cut down the curs where they stnad, nice, clean and easy.
>Have the line advance, youll do this the oldfashioned way.
>Write-in

>>6178742
>Have the calavry poke at their flanks, ride on, regroup and then charge them from the back.

Maybe this old goat is more cunning than he appears? Probably not.

Anyways, this way our men get close enough time test their mettle, identify if these are even bandits and not dressed up hostages, and spring any flanking traps these dirtbags may have planned.

>>6178742
>Order the crossbowmen to cut down the curs where they stnad, nice, clean and easy.

No sense wasting good men

>>6178742
>Have the calavry poke at their flanks, ride on, regroup and then charge them from the back.

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From a distance, they might have been mistaken for an army or a unit of them. But as you get closer, it is more a mob of rioting peasants. Their armour is improvised, their weapons poorly maintained; mining iron is easy, at least compared to forging it into something. They seemed to content themselves with throwing insults at you and your army. Only you and a select few could understand them; these threats fell on deaf ears.

You would end this quickly and decisively; a good cavalry manoeuvre will bring them to their knees. You rode over to one of the squadrons with your own bodyguards to inform them of what you wanted to do.

The cavalry on both sides formed themselves up and began to pick up speed. Slowly, at first, but fast enough as you came closer and closer to the enemy.

They responded by throwing javelins and pelting you with rocks. As the pang of something that bounced off your helmet told you. You and the rest lowered your lances and chipped off some of their men. You rode past, slowed down outside their range, and regrouped for the next charge.

In the meantime, the footmen and archers would advance to truly envelop them. And as fate would have it, they were already wavering; this was doubly so when you came back to their rear. Unable to decide between fighting you and your advancing footmen. The brigands scattered, to be easily chased down by the light horse.

Casualties were light that day, fewer than a dozen actually dead; the rest had injuries that could be treated, mostly undeep wounds from the pebbles they had thrown. As for them, you had them hunted down and put down like the dogs they were, though they were without the nobler characteristics of that animal.

You had the field searched for Maurus, either for his body or to take him prisoner. And you did eventually find him. His lower legs were stuck under his horse, a cheap farm nag, riddled with four crossbow bolts. You had your men drag him from under his horse, then you had him tied up with his hand behind his back.

''You little turdmongler, I had a good thing going, you filthy rat.'' You hadn't seen him in person before, but you found him very ugly, with a voice that was guttural and low. You refrained from retorting, instead motioning to one of your men.

''Still!'' One of the common soldiers said as he deposited his armoured fist into Maurus' mouth. This made him cough up even more of his already missing teeth.

''Right, make sure he's tied up properly; if he tries to run, you shoot. Now, what to do?'' You said.

>Kill him on the spot
>Bring him to his home village to stand trail there
>Take him before the magistrate of the area, the Eparch that is.

>>6178799
Yeah no, Maurus, or rather is version of him, is the most hostile of the three, but also the weakest. Asking him to fight a battle is like putting a 1940s mobster in charge of a battalion in World War II, without being trained.

>>6179262
>Take him before the magistrate of the area, the Eparch that is.
He was a taint to the whole area and has hurt more villages than one. Also gives some legitimacy to the local Eparch for handling his own local affairs, so he's in a stronger position should we be not there.

>>6179262
>Take him before the magistrate of the area, the Eparch that is.

>>6179262
>>Take him before the magistrate of the area, the Eparch that is

>>6179262
>>Take him before the magistrate of the area, the Eparch that is.

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You would do this by the book, handing him over to the rightful authorities, who would then deal with them. What would happen then was of no concern to you.

The trip back was thus mostly uneventful; you had him wear a bag over his head to keep his identity hidden from any angry villagers.

You rode to the Eparch's residence. There you brought the criminal before him, and he seemed pleasantly surprised.

''So we meet each other at long last. You know, I now know why they used to call you Maurus Mangled-eye, looking at that face of yours. At any rate, Maurus, you stand accused of crimes ranging from sheep-stealing to the kidnapping and murder of Mithradian subjects. As such, I do hereby summon you before the court of law; your trial shall begin this afternoon.'' The Eparch told Maurus, who seethed in silence.

The trial itself was a short affair; some of the villagers of the village he grew up in told the Eparch, who, much like a feudal lord back home, would preside over matters of justice, that he started stealing sheep and other cattle from a young age. He would later be hired to chase out smallholders by corrupt nobles, though this was at the start of his career. Later on, when the authority of Mithras collapsed, he set himself up as a king of criminals of sorts. The Eparch kept it short and sentenced him to death by hanging. To be carried out imminently.

It was a short affair; the Mithradian priest kept his plea for repentance short on account of the weather. He was quickly put on a barrel and put under the gallows.

He turned to the crowd before facing his death and said, ''What care have I for your laws and states? I am an outlaw, beyond your reproach, and I shall die a man free from law and base morals.''

The rope worked its work quickly; the man was dead after the first snap. The Eparch had decided to move the corps back to the entrance of the valley he once terrorised to remind his few former subordinates of what fate awaited them.

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>>6180113


Winter was a late visitor in this land, and though the peaks of the mountains had been capped with snow for a while now, the higher valleys were busy being snowed in as well. It was a mild cold compared to the blizzards and freezing temperatures of Greifswald, according to the Eparch, who invited you to dinner nearly every week. Further down south, there are snowless winters, which was something you found hard to believe. Winter would always bring snow, of that you had known for as long as you had lived.

Thanks to your timely intervention, the food stores this year were amply supplied. That didn't mean there were problems; many men caught the typical winter diseases, which put many out of action. You had also taken the prisoners back from out of the fields to prevent any from freezing to death.

It was the tenth of Novisus (XII). When you got up, long before the dawn, you put on your best and warmest clothes. Forgoing your armour for now, you put on your woollen overvest to keep out the cold, a jerkin to keep out the wind, and, to top it all off, a heavy fur cloak and hat. You had the same done to your horse, and before long you were riding over the frozen roads.

It was six days of hooves crunching in the snow; through whitened mountains and dales you rode, rode back to the palace, hidden deep in the mountain chains, hidden from prying eyes and foreign armies.

This time, you didn't need to go through some convoluted trail to get there. When you got to the temple ruins, the portal opened on its own. Riding through, you found yourself in a place you had never been before, the stables of the palace. And the Vilicus was waiting for you this time.

'''Please place your steeds in the empty stalls," he said, gesturing towards the spacious stable. "I take it you are here for the return for my lord. Well, you are just in time; I shall fire up the hearths.''

''Hang on, what do you know about the return of your lord? What exactly will he do?'' You asked.

''I can't say too much. Titus told me at my creation that I should not say anything, because that would ruin the surprise, so I can't say what it is, sorry. Oh, no, wait, there is one thing: you should come out at midnight because it is then that he will appear in front of his mausoleum.'' And then he disappeared.

You spend the next few days silently reading in the library, eating in the halls, studying the stars, and swimming in the underground steam baths.

The night has come; all of you didn't sleep. No, that would be something you could do afterwards. There were no clocks, and the sundials would obviously not work. You and the others spent two hours outside; there was no wind, and the weather here wasn't as cold as elsewhere, just cold enough for snow to fall and stay.

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>>6180116
You and the rest remained there in front of his mausoleum, as nothing seemed to happen. The sky was dark; there was no moon nor stars that night. So it was extra dark.

It was then that not one but two little golden suns appeared. Sparkling with radiance, then more appeared, a man, of middle age and tall of state, regal and elegant, came into being. The suns, his eyes, shone bright golden light as he slowly approached you. Everything, from his golden laurel crown, his purple toga, his staff in one hand, and an orb in the other, made it clear who had materialised before you. It was as if a god had descended from the heavens, his presence commanding awe and respect. The surrounding air seemed to shimmer with power, as if the very fabric of reality bent to his will.

He looked at you and your fellowship, and then spoke: ''Are you without tongues, or has my presence struck you speechless? Fear not, for I am not here out of malevolence or ill intent.'' He spoke with a voice that could crumble rocks, uproot trees, and instil the coward with the courage of ten ordinary men.

>Ave, great and noble Imperator, I humbly bow before your immaculate splendour and offer our utmost respect.
>My lord, I come before you with need for your council, I feel like this land is tearing itself apart.
>Gracious Emperor, I seek answers to many questions, could you help me?
>Write-in

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>>6180118
And the close-up of his face.

>>6180118
>Ave, great and noble Imperator, I humbly bow before your immaculate splendour and offer our utmost respect.
>Write: in give your name, titles and land where you are from and also let your other companions introduce themselves.
>Write in: Your majesty your land is currently in the process of tearing itself apart and beset by foreign powers against it and ones who at first position themselves as allies, but are ready to bring it to ruin faster so they can feast and desecrate onto it's corpse.

Do we have anyone of us writing down what is happening?

>>6180137
You did send your scribe over to copy books from the palace library, and he is present.

>>6180118
>My lord, I come before you with need for your council, I feel like this land is tearing itself apart.

>>6180118
Support >>6180137

>>6180118
>My lord, I come before you with need for your council, I feel like this land is tearing itself apart.

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You went on your knee; normally you wouldn't have done so, as you didn't consider yourself a subject of the other monarchs that you had met before; indeed, the only person you had ever knelt before was your father.

''Ave, great and noble Imperator, I humbly bow before your immaculate splendour and offer our utmost respect.'' You said as you went on your knees.

''Arise, young one. I have heard your words of greeting and would now like to offer my own. I am indeed emperor, though obviously not reigning. You obviously know who I am, which is good. So I would now know who you are and from where you and your companions hail from.''

''I am Albrecht von Adlershorst, son of Dietrich von Adlershorst. Heir to the duchy of Greifswald, knight of the realm. These, my companions, mostly hail from Greifswald also.''

They all went before him, introducing themselves by name and title. You wondered what the thought of you, in his time, Tautenland was, but a wild land ruled over by wild barbarian kings; Greifswald lay beyond even that land.

He looked you all over and then gazed into your eyes. ''I know what those blue eyes and blonde hair mean. You're a Tautenian, though your culture has advanced since last I saw one of your kind, but the fervour of the old Tautenic warrior remains hidden behind a sincere sophistication; you remind me more of the civilised northern nobles we subjugated than the wild men beyond the limes, but then again I assume there is much that has changed since I last walked the earth. But this land of which you speak I know little; the far north was the domain of the Elves, and we were content to let them keep it. They gave us stones and metals for our marble and wine; they also didn't raid our ships or towns, so we were content in where we had drawn our northern frontiers.''

>>6180705
''But I could look at your land if I so wished.'' He told you.

''You can? Is that what the orb in the tower is for?'' You asked

''You know of the orb, which is good, but you cannot properly use it; it can only bring you here; it requires one who is able to understand the higher mysteries to properly use it; allow me to demonstrate.''

He threw the dark blue ball in the air, where it remained, floating. With his hand, he began to manipulate the orb, which changed from a dark centre to the whitened forest you were all too familiar with. He stopped over the city of Libau, where the orb showed you the silhouettes of the cathedral and the town houses. He looked inside, where the bishop was conducting a service.

''How quaint! I had been told that you worship some distant family member of mine, but to see it happen is a whole other matter. No sacrifices? Ah well, I am not one to judge; your religion seems far better organised than ours ever was. Let me tell you, they kept filling the temple hill with more and more temples, all so the patricians could have more of a chance at claiming the high priesthood of one of our gods. Thankfully, this practice was in decline after the rise of the path of the elder king, which looked down on such practices. Anyway.'' He made some more motions with his hand.

He continued on, along the roads and villages that were so deeply nestled in the forests; he looked at the castles and monasteries, which he found mildly amusing, especially after you explained why a bunch of men would spend their entire lives together with each other. Then he made the orb project Rittersbach, the capital of Greifswald.

>>6180706
''A quaint little pile of rocks, is this where you live? The windows of your father's home are rather big, a novelty of your time, I assume? Glass was far too expensive to be used in such large quantities in my time.'' He looked inside, where, before a warm hearth, a blonde middle-aged man sat behind his desk, working the hours away.

''That's my father!'' You exclaimed. ''He can't hear us, now can he?'' You asked of the emperor.

''No, and neither can you hear him. This artefact can do many things, but hearing isn't one of them. Your father seems a diligent and dutiful man, of which I approve; neglect is the most common vice among the monarchs; the only thing worse is an active malice or hatred of the country one rules. He might not be able to solve all problems, but at least he is willing to work on solving them, rather than distracting himself with feasts and hunting.'' The orb turned dark again as it fell into his hand. ''That's enough of that for now. Is this something you need from me?'' He asked.

''Your majesty, your land is currently in the process of tearing itself apart and beset by foreign powers against it and ones who at first position themselves as allies, but are ready to bring it to ruin faster so they can feast and desecrate onto it's corpse.''

''The Provincia Mithradia is my home, not my land. My true homeland, Aurunicum, was sunk beneath the waves. That province was the cradle of what would become the Imperium Isidoricum. It is true that Mithras was one of the first additions to the empire, and that it was an important economic hub, but make no mistake. This palace, and the grounds surrounding it, is simply my vacation home. My official residence, in the capital. It was much, much larger and more spacious than this palace. Though I am fond of the old girl, my actual homeland is gone, sunk beneath the waves for so displeasing the one whom you worship. He is much younger than I was when I died, but when he smote the corrupted remains of what was once our empire, I came to a realisation.''

He drifted off in a muse as he pondered something. So you asked him again.

>>6180707
''My lord, I come before you with need for your counsel; I feel like this land is tearing itself apart.''

''Have you ever considered that it was meant to fall apart? That the foreign powers that are now eyeing it to feast on and desecrate its corpse have reasons to do so? Nothing, and I do mean nothing, lasts forever. Before the empire, you had the regional hegemonies. We defeated them and became the empire. Before the time of men, the continent had many great Elven and Dwarven kingdoms on it, but all of them, even the empire I, my predecessors, and my successors worked so hard to create, expand, and preserve, would not last forever; to think so was a folly. I realised that when I saw Aurunicum struck down, some things are best left to give up the ghost.''

''And besides that, why are you, a foreigner from a far-off land, so invested in the future of this land?'' He asked.

>Mithras is the eastern bulwark against the infidel; to let it fall would open up the mainland to them.
>Because I believe that this country can still be saved, it may need new vigour, but its part isn't played out yet.
>I have grown rather fond of this country, and I would be loath to see it fall.
>Write-in

>>6180708
>Because I believe that this country can still be saved, it may need new vigour, but its part isn't played out yet.

>>6180708
>Mithras is the eastern bulwark against the infidel; to let it fall would open up the mainland to them.

>>6180708
>>Because I believe that this country can still be saved, it may need new vigour, but its part isn't played out yet.

>>6180708
>>Mithras is the eastern bulwark against the infidel; to let it fall would open up the mainland to them.
ALL HAIL MITHRAS
I took your advice and just voted with zero information :D

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''Because I believe that this country can still be saved, it may need new vigour, but its part isn't played out yet.''

You have seen some of the problems that were prevalent in Mithras. A corrupt, divided, and apathetic nobility; chronic shortages of manpower; an overburdened bureaucracy and manpower; and a stagnant economy. But that doesn't mean that coming here was a waste of time, is it? No, you were here to crusade for its preservation; letting it die would be antithetical to your purpose here. Did you come here for nothing? Was what you were doing pointless? Those were questions you would rather not ask yourself; Mithras simply needed new, young, and energetic leadership. Letting it fall wasn't an option; it was the eastern bulwark, keeping the wicked fireworshippers out of the door. Letting it fall would mean opening the gates to them.

''And because Mithras is the eastern bulwark against the infidel; to let it fall would open up the mainland to them.'' You told him with conviction.

''That I find believable, but don't appeal to me by using religious arguments; you should know better than that. The states of the Near East shall fall and crumble one day. Don't act like your faith is in existential danger; it isn't. As for your other plea, if its role isn't played out, do tell me then, how is it to be saved? Will you single-handedly save it from itself? Or are you waiting for some promising young man to stand up, claim the throne, and save the realm in its darkest hour?'' He said in half a mocking tone.

''I, I don't have a real plan. But that's also partially why I came before you, Your most August Majesty. The players are moving too fast for me to act, and I am not much of a schemer. Can you help me in this regard?'' You asked him.

The Emperor put his hand to his chin, before he spoke: ''You haven't really explained the situation in full, I sense that there are more players in the game than You, the crusaders, the Mithradians, and the infidels, as you so graciously describe them. Lay it out in full, the entire picture, and I shall see if I can help you, preferably inside.'' He took off; you noticed that his robes dragged along on the ground; he was obviously lifting himself off the ground. When he had entered the throne room, he floated up to the raised podium the throne was placed upon and sat down; he motioned you with a hand to begin your briefing.

He listened with quiet interest as you told him of Prokopios, who was planning a coup to then kick the rest of you out. Of Raymond, the Aurilién, who was in the process of carving out his own kingdom, of the Doge, who had contacted you to brew a plot to counter the coup that Prokopios was brewing. About how Emperor Anastasios was effectively broken, no longer able to effectively counter the plots of the snakes who now tore at his empire

>>6181181
''From what you have told me, I can conclude that the situation you described is dire, there are too many enemies for you or the Emperor of whom you speak to take on at once, if you aren't able to save them all. You should learn to prioritise; it is a hard and often cruel lesson to learn, but if you want to save Mithras, you should not try to take on all the problems at once. Stop, analyse, and evaluate the threats, then go after the one you consider the greatest foe. Deciding your attention and resources can and will overwhelm you on all fronts, rather, you should give ground on one front so you can go all in on the other. By defeating them in detail, you will have the advantage. Now tell me, who do you consider the greatest threat to Mithras?''

>Raymond, Duc de Montpèlerins
>Prokopios Maniakes
>Carlo Scandellago, the Doge of Alotoro

>>6181184
>Carlo Scandellago, the Doge of Alotoro
He's rich, has influence over the crusaders in transport and supplies, controls the flow into and out of the country and can simply run away and return later to try again.

>>6181184
>Prokopios Maniakes

>>6181184
>Prokopios Maniakes

though this guy is right: >>6181335
that's more of an indirect danger

>>6181184
>Raymond, Duc de Montpèlerins
making his own kingdom..