This is my first attempt at an AAR, any feedback is welcome. For my first run through as the Norse I wanted to make the game a challenge, as much as possible at least, so I set myself a new type of migration game: overland migration. My basic rules are:

1. I can't hold any province for more than ten years until I conquer Jerusalem.
2. I can only conquer provinces that are contiguous with provinces I already own.
3. I must own at least one province at all times.
4. I must accomplish all possible Papal missions excepting crusades (Which force a blitz and break the fun of the game).
5. I can attack any faction, Catholic or not, to accomplish my mission, but I must seek peace with them when I move on beyond their borders.
6. I will recruit no ships or mercenaries.
7. I will only break an alliance under extreme necessity.
8. I can cross only at Constantinople or Gibraltar, and at the start of the game I'm only considering the (Formerly) Catholic crossing at Gibraltar, though diplomatic contact with the Byzantines may reverse that.

At the end of ten years holding a territory I must gift or sell it to a nearby ally or the Papacy, though I can liquidate all buildings first. Once I reach Jerusalem my purpose will be reclaiming the Holy Lands from Muslims and defending them from the Mongols and Timurids, after which I plan to expand to nearest Catholic borders, gift everything to the Pope and retake Arhus. The story bit doesn't really make sense, it's just the best rough justification I could concoct for the rules I thought I needed to make the game harder. Difficulty is m/vh with battle timers on. Enjoy!)
End Note
Arhus, 1080 AD, Day 0.

Eleven days since the royal family's second son was stillborn. Eleven days since the the witchy woman who prophesied that King Knud would never know another son was put to death. For these past eleven days the King has been taken with a great terror, unspoken but contagious, and now the very walls of the city hum with fear. The men are jumpy, sensing change in the air, and even the peasantry can smell an ill wind about. Christianity has officially held sway here for generations, but even the nobles visit a weirding woman when they take sick. Now the whispers have it that the All Father is awake, and angry. Riders out of the north report storms and sky-lights the color of blood. Today a messenger out of the west brought news that our entire fleet had been sunk by fiery rocks falling from the stars. I fear the King's reponse. Even now he holds council with a creature of the deep forest.

Arhus, 1080 AD, Day 1.

King Knud sat in chambers, with commands that no one disturb him, all through the night. When he emerged there was no sign of the filthy being he'd taken into his counsel, but the King was a changed man. He called the nobles together, commanded me to gather his bodyguard troops, and gave an impassioned speech about the debt of blood and honor today's men owe to history and the gods of our forefathers. Then, his voice rising louder and louder, he swore his blood, his line, and all his kingdom to proper payment of that debt. There was a chorus of 'Ayes!' from the nobility, much aided by the King's mead no doubt, but as the men stood to adjourn the King went on in a quieter voice.

'Odin spoke to me in the night.'

The King's guard, The Black Worms, had long been recruited according to the ancient rites, even when the kingdom officially forsook the old gods. At King Knud's words, my troop stirred. The reaction among the nobles was that of a sheep stunned for the kill. They simply stared as the King spoke on, about the necessity of repaying the debt we owed Odin, who had warded our land since the start of time. If we were to set the old gods aside once and for all, we would have to undertake one last quest in their names. The road will be hard, for the debt is great, but those of the people who survive the winnowing will be stronger for it, and free to follow the one God.

I saw my fervency for this quest reflected in the eyes of the King's guard, and in the eyes of King Knud. For the nobles, I saw a quivering recollection of the fear that had ruled our city for nigh on two weeks, and could readily fortell the failures of courage that would leave them scattered on the battlefields to come. I called a messenger to call up the troops for orders. Even those not familiar with the old ways would welcome any change from the snivelling terrors of these past days.

South of Arhus, turn 1, 1080-2 AD.

Our initial course is set, our Cardinal, Princess, Merchant, Spy and two primary armies head south. The Spy checks Hamburg out, discovering two peasant archers and two spear militia units. The southernmost army, composed of two spear militia units, a veteran peasant unit, a veteran Norse archer unit, and a unit of peasant archers lay siege to Hamburg immediately. They are commanded to prepare a ram and some ladders for the arrival of the King and his son. Diplomats and spearmen are to be trained at Arhus behind us before the structures are razed and the town is surrendered.
 

Hamburg region, turn 2, 1083-4 AD.

The King assess the troops holding siege of Hamburg, and determines to send the majority of them on westward, holding two units of spearmen, his Black Worms, and the Prince's guard, the Gray Wolves, for the battle. We are outnumbered, but the enemy is far outmatched.

To draw fire away from the ram and the approach of my cavalry one unit of spearmen assaults with walls with only ladders against two units of peasant archers. They fought valiantly, and the gates broke before their courage did.

Once the gates fell the King and his son charge forward with their guards, smashing all resistance and sacking the town.

2000 florins are gained, swelling our coffers. The money will be well spent in the coming years as a project to improve the recruitment abilities of Hamburg is launched. A small army of Germans is discovered by our spy near Hamburg. We do not wish trouble with the Holy Roman Empire so soon, so Princess Ingrid is sent to sue for an alliance.

Hamburg province, turn 3 1085-6 AD.

Princess Ingrid discovers that the HRE's Prince Henry is unwed, and is commanded to offer her hand in exchange for a small sum of florins. A firm alliance is thus concluded, and maps are shared. The Pope instructs us to build a small church at Hamburg, and King Knud determines to delay construction of other buildings to accomplish this holy mission. The King takes command of the western army, leaving Prince Charles to hold Hamburg.

Near Antwerp, turn 4, 1087-8 AD.

The church is completed, pleasing His Holiness. Prince Charles takes a bride. Most men of worth have abandoned Arhus and struck for Hamburg already, taxes are altered accordingly. Our Diplomats begin to scatter in every direction, seeking trade agreements and peaceful relations.

Near Antwerp, turn 5, 1089-90 AD.

The Council of Nobles asks that we make diplomatic overtures to the French.

Our spy discovers a powerful rebel garrison at Antwerp.

Even so, the King marches up to the walls, but lacks the time to prepare the siege. In a fit of foolishness our diplomat, meant to give away Arhus to our HRE ally takes a detour and runs out of movement points before reaching the city to negotiate. Arhus will not be abandoned on schedule because it cannot be allowed to fall into chaos and rebellion. Someday soon there will be a penalty for this foolishness, no doubt.

Besieging Antwerp, turn 6, 1091-1092 AD.

Surrendering Arhus to the Germans improves our relations to Outstanding, though they refused to pay so much as a wooden florin for the city. Our men sold all that they could before striking out for Hamburg with the last of the useful peasants in their train. Prince Charles departs Hamburg with a large force of troops, including newly trained Scouts, Raiders, and Huscarls. Antwerp is besieged and our spy discovers an even more powerful garrison at Bruges.

Soon after the siege is set in place, our enemy sallies out to meet us, suspecting that his force is superior. Little does he count the valor of our Black Worms!

Abandoning the useless rams, we position our two spear units behind four units of archers, while our Worm guards move off to flank the enemy and take advantage of his speed.

The enemy commander's own unit of mailed knights rush forward, but our archers withdraw in time, and our spearmen make short work of the cavalry, breaking them and sending 15 of them fleeing for their walls. Meanwhile the enemy has dispatched two units of pikes to threaten our King, and a third unit of pikes and a unit of spearmen along behind the mailed knights to threaten our archers and spears. The Black Worms deftly move between the units of pikes sent after them to catch the pikes from behind as they engage our spears, shattering their formation instantly. (This shot is poor, but you can see the two units of pikes marching slowly, far from the battle)

With the aid of Norse archers entering the melee, the spearmen are sent fleeing just as quickly. The enemy commander has rallied his knights by this time, and attempts to charge them through his crossbowmen to attack our King, who quickly wheels the Black Worms to meet the enemy charge, all but destroying the unit and killing the rebel commander. The remaining enemy pikes are lured into a hopeless chase, and picked apart by our archers. When their commander is killed, the first of the two remaining pike units breaks as well. Facing the charge of the King's guard, the city's peasants shut the gates when the last of their commander's guard attempts to re-enter the city.

Denied at the gates, our King orders us back to the field to aid in breaking the last whole unit of enemy pikes. This allows enough time for the pathetic remnants of the enemy who had fled into the city to rally and return to battle.

At the sight of the King preparing his men to charge once more, they broke and fled for the gates again, but this time the Worms would not be denied!

Hot on their heels we enter the city, charging not for their backs but for the square.

As the Guard roared up the city streets, the enemy surrendered at last, and Antwerp was ours!

2,000 florins were sacked from the city again, and with our finances in decline while recruitment continued at Hamburg they were desperately needed. Prince Charles delays near Hamburg to collect a ballista crew from Arhus. If the ballistae can be brought to the front in time they will greatly speed our conquest by allowing us to attack cities soon after we siege them.

Though we neatly outmaneuvered the three units of pike and our spy reported only two in Bruges, our next conquest, I worried what they might accomplish if their discipline proved stiffer in the battle to come.
Antwerp, turn 7, 1093-4 AD.

Prince Charles has determined to delay further west of Hamburg to collect freshly trained Huscarles and Raiders. He sends word that he will strike out for Antwerp as soon as possible. Rumor has it that the Prince's zeal is substantially lacking.

Meanwhile King Knud sets to training militiamen to hold Antwerp, and eyes the mighty garrison at Bruges. His reputation as a risky attacker may prove to be well deserved.

Near Hamburg, turn 8, 1095-6 AD.

The Prince continues to be slowed by the ballistae he picked up from Arhus, and he dithers on, clearly now dragging his feet. The King keeps himself busy with preparations for the coming assault.

Antwerp, turn 9, 1097-8 AD.

At the risk of angering the King, I continue to prevail upon him to wait for Prince Charles' forces to arrive before we come against Bruges. Our spy has scouted an English castle and rebel held city beyond that will be more easily taken, and the King is in no mood for counsel of waiting. Word is sent for the Prince to abandon the ballista to make it's own way and speed to the city.

Meanwhile diplomatic contact is established with the French, per the Council's orders, and the Polish. Neither nation is particularly receptive to our offers, but the nobles offer the King a paltry reward of 500 florins.

In private the King tells me he finds their lack of faith disturbing.

Antwerp, turn 10, 1099-1100 AD.

Prince Charles left mainly the crudest militia troops behind to handle the dismantling of Hamburg, unfortunately these men misunderstood his orders and, in their haste, also destroyed and sold off the local church.

The Pope is outraged, the King is enraged, and Prince Charles once again slows his march to Antwerp a few miles outside of town. In private, however, many of the Black Worms express relief that our failure to obey Odin has had such mild consequences. Hamburg is gifted to the French, our new allies, leaving us with only a single city under our control. King Knud vows to capture Bruges in all haste, and in an ironic twist, trains a ballista at Antwerp, making a mockery of all Prince Charles' wasteful dithering.

Besieging Bruges, turn 11, 1101-1102 AD.

Prince Charles' soldiers reached the east gate of Antwerp just behind King Knud's assault force departing by the west gate. Whispers abound that this was no mistake on the Prince's part. In any event, battle will soon be joined! I can smell in the air around Bruges that the men inside are well led, confident, and will sally out against us posthaste.

This happily prove to be the case! At last the Black Worms ride to battle again!

This Captain Lancelot is clever, he charges forward with his cavalry to press our ballista unit immediately, knowing that they are our slowest men and that we won't have had time to set our spears.

The battle breaks up into chaos at this point, as the King leads a charge against the enemy crossbowmen when their pikes and spears abandon them. Unfortunately none of the enemy's pikes or spears turn back, and our spearmen are badly out manned and outclassed. Only heroic efforts by our Norse Archers save them all from breaking, and they spend all their blood before the enemy pikes even arrive. Meanwhile Captain Lancelot has been all over the field, charging our valiant archers, breaking our smallest unit of spearmen, and chasing our ballista men far afield from their engines. He has done much harm to our forces, but his horsemen have also been whittled away. At last a unit of peasant archers traps him and cuts him down.

Meanwhile, however, the enemy pikemen reach our much depleted spear line. The Black Worms have broken the enemy's rear ranks, and have a chance to chase them through to the town square. The King, surveying our remaining troops, makes the determination that it is more important to capture the town than to ensure their survival. At worst, they are faster than the pikemen, and will make it safely off the field. Those of us in his guard who remain ahorse turn and charge for the gates.

One unit of pike is engaged by both our spears, one unit of peasant archers, and the few remaining Norse archers. They break, but the cost is high, as the other unit of pike has flanked our spears and engages them even as their brothers flee. Now it is our turn to be broken, and our spearmen run for the hills while the archers lead the nearly whole pike unit on a merry chase, with the second archer unit shooting into their ranks from behind. Eventually they will break. Surely the King can secure the square to take victory in this siege.

The Black Worms, however, have had to clean up the broken enemy units before they could stream back to the square, and so, tired, much reduced, and yet triumphant we finally move into place at the square. Minutes pass as the peasants try to muster up their mayor for the official surrender. As stout men struggle to drag him from under his bed, however, the formerly broken unit of pikemen, still numerically superior to the Worms, begins their slow, orderly march up the streets.

The fool mayor, upon spotting them, turns tail to run, but our men are near enough to snag him and bring him before the King. In his most bloodcurdling voice our mighty lord leans down and demands the surrender of the town. Quivering from end to end, the Mayor looks over his shoulder at the advancing pikes, and, perhaps realizing his posterior is perfectly positioned between those poles and our brave knights, bellows out his acquiescence at full volume.

The pikemen, twice broken and now betrayed, with nothing left to fight for, kneel and lay down their pikes. The battle was hard fought.

At the end of the day, Bruges was ours!
Author Note:
Slight rules alteration in that, rather than give up a town ten years after I take it, instead I'm giving up a town every ten years starting with the town I've held the longest. Simply easier to keep up with. I'm abandoning the dates too, because they don't make much sense.
End Note
Bruges, turn 12.

The King, hoping to train units other than militia for the conquest of Caen, has determined to convert Bruges into a castle. Some question the utility of this move, but in private the King also relates that he is concerned that the large native populace will be disorderly if their hands are not turned to some great work.

Near Angers, turn 13.

The King's financial advisor strikes the first blow against our next enemy, taking over the export of wine from a fool Englishman in this area. Superior troops are moved from Antwerp to Bruges to ready for the assault on the English at Caen. The Pope asks that we build a church at Antwerp, and the King commands that it be done ahead of all other projects.

Bruges, turn 14.

The Pope is pleased that the church is completed, and Prince Charles' reputation for noble acts is also thus enhanced.

In darker news, the Scottish have landed a large force from the fleet near Bruges, and the English have moved in a smaller force from the west just as the King sets out for Caen with his invasion troops. Bruges is held by green militia troops deemed too likely to break for the King to bring them on the road to Caen. Word is sent for the Prince to reinforce Bruges in all haste.

Road east of Caen, turn 15.

Diplomatic contact is established with the Spanish and the Papacy, at long last. The gift of Antwerp to the Papacy allows an alliance to be reached and relations to be improved to outstanding, but relations with Spain are cooler. They're between us and our God given mission. The Prince's slowest troops halt outside the gates of Bruges while he assumes control of the city.

Caen, turn 16.

Because we were forced to detour around the small English army in the countryside the siege cannot begin on time. The King is livid, camped mere miles from the castle he meant to be preparing to assault. Also our finances reach dire straits, and we fall into debt. The King's merchant assured us this was inevitable, but the King was certain one god or another would provide. Just one more test along the road.

Diplomatic contact is established with Russia, who refuse our offer of alliance, and (Per council orders) Venice, earning us too small a reward to bring our nation out of debt.

Besieging Caen, turn 17.

War!

The English are but the fools of fate, set in our path by no ill will of their own, but destined for death all the same. An Englishman named Robert commands the garrison, and he sent a messenger begging to know what our intentions were. Word has it that King Knud sent back a fiery diabtribe on the Dane's place in history and the will of God. Rams and ladders are being prepared for the butcher's work ahead.

Our diplomat has been recalled from Spain to negotiate a settlement with the English after Caen is taken, and hopefully to keep the large Scottish army restrained, though they've shown no sign of open war yet.

Caen, turn 18.

The English fool Robert has only a bare troops on his ramparts. Our ram destroys his gate as our Raiders butcher the defenders. Our losses are light until we engage their cavalry, but the Englishman Robert aquits himself well against the scouts that raced ahead of the Black Worms before falling in battle.


The scouts who still live will hopefully have learned a valuable lesson.

King Knud's offer to ransom the men taken in the assault is callously refused. The King's reputation in battle is growing fearsome, and increasingly at odds with the Prince's public persona.

 
Something in the siege has set the King in a terrible mood, and so he strikes out for the rebel held Rennes immediately, with no pause for rest, taking only a ballista, a few peasant archers, and a unit of Raiders with the Black Worms.

Besieging Rennes, turn 19.

The craven Council, sensing which way the wind blows, has promised a princely sum to the King for the sack of Rennes. With our mounting debt, who could refuse?

My personal suspicion is that the Council urged him on in the hopes that he would throw his life away against the rebel held walls, but those cowards have underestimated the valor of the Black Worms, and the fear our King inspires in his enemies. Rennes will present no difficulty. We begin the siege and set the peasants to building rams.

The enemy has some reliable troops, including a few knights, but they are rabble even so, and I suspect we will scatter them to the winds with one good charge.

Meanwhile the Scottish leave our lands to have a look at the Papacy's lightly defended Antwerp, and our diplomat prepares documents for seeking peace with the English.

Our spy discovers from afar that the Spanish garrison at Bordeux, next on the King's list, is quite weak, but that reinforcements are near.

Turn 20, Northern France.

My son has come of age, and I pray that someday he will follow me into the ranks of the Black Worms. Indeed, King Knud set him on that path by sending him with a smoldering, furious letter to the recalcitrant Prince Charles and putting him under orders to join the Gray Wolves. I am proud, but also worried. The Prince has shown little enthusiasm for this battle, and I cannot help but wonder if the gods will not take umbrage at his footdragging.

When the letter reached the Prince at Caen our King's dreadful nature stretched across the lands to whip him into action. Setting out for Bordeaux with a substantial force, the Prince rode on ahead alone to secure the bridge and was ambushed by some 220 rebel spearmen.

According to later accounts, the Prince whipped his men into a state of near madness with a rousing speech, and then personally led charge after charge into the teeth of the rebel spears.

These rebels were a doughty lot, and no mistake, because they continued to pursue the Gray Wolves even as they were cut down and broken, unit by unit.
(12 August 2007)

Finally their captain, who had spent the lives of three other units of spearmen before risking his own in combat, was cut down under the charge of the Wolves.

Even so, the last unit of spearmen rallied and tried to come against the Prince once again, uphill no less. They too would be broken and swept aside, as none could withstand the frozen steel lance heads of the Gray Wolves on this cold and snowy day.

Ten of the Wolves were buried on that field, with a mighty pile of their slain enemy's weapons mounded up nearby to mark the place. Prince Charles would be known as a better commander for what he did that day, as well.

Negotiations with the English produced a satisfactory peace, including handing over Bruges to them in exchange for some 2700 florins, a tribute of 500 florins for the next five turns, and an alliance. We also learned that Bordeaux had been reinforced, but the Prince's will, and the King's letter, drove him onward.

At Rennes the King determined to move forward with a night assault, despite our inferior numbers.

Our Ballista troops had bragged about their skill, and they proved it, firing at full range through a small hole they'd made in the enemy gates more than once.

King Knud was impressed, but he knew it would come down to steel meeting flesh once the gates were broken, and so it did. The enemy neatly arrayed himself in a bunched formation on a tight street, and our Raiders held them in place while the King moved in behind them and the archers and ballista rained fire on their heads. When the King charged their rear and butchered their captain, the rest of the enemy surrendered and begged for their lives.


The Council's 2500 florin reward was enough to buy our way out of debt, temporarily at least, with 1000 florins to spare, which were quickly spent on fresh troops.

Besieging Bordeaux, turn 21.

Despite the presence of a Spanish Cardinal and possibly inferior troops, the Prince went ahead with the declaration of war and the siege of Bordeaux, aided by our spy, who had slipped in the day before.

Caen was left in the hands of a few militiamen and peasants, Rennes was reinforced by the quality troops from Caen, and King Knud took the veteran units and the Black Worms and moved down the road to reinforce Bordeaux, fearing that the Prince would be driven back or unable to conquer the place on his own.

Siege of Bordeaux, turn 22.

The fool Council, showing their incomprehension of our quest, asked that we blockade the port of Leon, despite Odin's prohibition of the building of ships before the accomplishment of our task. The King laughed contemptuously, and order them to board wagons and make for Bordeaux.

Prince Charles, having word of the King approaching the last bridge before Bordeaux, determined to prove himself and sack the castle before being reinforced. My son sent word that the Prince again delivered an excellent speech, and inspired the men to brave high walls and hard steel with fire in their hearts.

The battle was uneventful, and though our fearless scouts raced ahead once again, there were few casualties and a generally dispirited defensive effort from the Spanish.

I know the King will be much encouraged to hear of the spineless Spanish troops and their weak efforts. I can further hope that matters between the King and his son will be smoothed over with the rapid capture of this fresh fortress by Prince Charles.
Southern France, turn 23.

A member of our diplomatic corp brings most excellent news, we've made contact with the empire that holds the crossing at Constantinople, the Byzantines. For a small sum of coin and copies of our own maps the Byzantines were willing to send us maps of the area around the crossing. For the first time since our quest began we have a choice to make.

News also reached us that Prince Charles has adopted a young noble from his retinue into the royal family. The King is enraged, and he can hardly be blamed. Rumors have swirled around the Prince for some time, centering on the lack of children, and now bringing this man into the fold smacks of something best left unspoken. Worse, the King's wife is clearly past the age of bearing more children, and the King's daughters will give him no comfort when he thinks on where the crown will pass.

Even more maddening for the King, a small Spanish force has taken the bridge north of Bordeaux and will have to be cleared away before he can meet with his son to discuss the matter. They quickly fall back from the bridge when we ride forth, and I urge the King to turn aside and make for Bordeaux, but he will have none of it. The Spanish are to be put to the sword.

Late a night, on the rain swept coast of France, we take the high ground and prepare to assault. King Knud commands the rest of the force to hold their ground as the Black Worms ride out to clear away the enemy archers.

They break quickly, and the guard pulls back to suck in the enemy cavalry. When we reach a good spot we turn to attack as our Huscarls ride in from the side under a shower of burning arrows. The enemy general is struck down, and his cavalry flees.

Our horses trample a few more burning spearmen under their hooves, and the battle is won.

We lost only nine men, and after the battle the Spaniards who surrendered are put to the sword.

Prince Charles, having word of the King's coming and his mood, departs Bordeaux via the south gate (Bumping into a small Portuguese force) in considerable haste as we arrived at the west gate. I am sorry to have to record that King Knud's temper got the better of him, and he killed two gate guards on hearing the news. The peasants were suitably impressed with the need to be orderly.

Our spy scouted the fortress at Pamplona and a Spanish city called Zaragosa, and reported them both lightly held by small armies.

Southern France, turn 24.

Diplomatic contact is established with the Venetians, and maps are traded with a small sum of florins thrown in. We now have a fully mapped route to Muslim lands in the east, with our allies holding our north border much of the way. To the south, a hard slog through Spain followed by the trackless deserts of Africa. Additionally the Venetians and Byzantines are at war and will no doubt weaken each other before we arrive. The choice seems obvious to all, and the Prince heads east towards Toulouse with the spy preceding him discovering that it is very lightly garrisoned.

Additionally a large army of Spaniards is spotted near Zaragosa. The Council tries to prevail upon the King to turn aside from Spain, even going so far as to point out that he must head east to bring his son to heel. In a towering rage King Knud attacks a nobleman, and a brawl develops in the council chambers. We drag the councilmen out, resisting the urge to add to their bruises and broken bones. The next day the council, two units in need of retraining, and most of the peasants strike out east, to join Prince Charles, as the King takes his army south.

Southern France, turn 25.

Prince Charles is joined by some units from Bordeaux, and remains on the Danish border near Toulouse. The council has met with the Prince, and with their support he has commanded that a diplomat enter negotiations with the French for the peaceable transfer of Toulouse into our holdings. After much wrangling the French are given the castle at Caen, the city of Rennes, copies of our maps, military access to our lands, and a promise of an attack against some rebels on their borders. It is enough, and Toulouse is ours. Relations with the French are outstanding on the news.

I personally bring word of this to King Knud, expecting the worst, but the King simply sits at his desk muttering when I give him the news. Finally he glances up and with darkness gathering in his eyes he dismisses me.

The next morning the King delivers a glorious speech, proclaiming that Odin has promised him a great victory at Zaragosa, but the darkness in his eyes was still there. I don't expect it will ever recede again.

More orders out of the Prince see our weakest troops disbanded in an attempt to gain control of our financial situation. All the town militia and peasants, some of whom were raised in Toulouse for the handover, are dismissed. Still, a debt is forcast to mount quickly. Some of these men were under the King's command when word arrived that they surrender their weapons and join the peasantry. Still there was no fire in him, and the order was passed down as though it had come from his own lips. He was left with a few units of spear militia, some archer militia, a weakend group of Huscarls, and, of course, the Black Worms.

In the Pyrenees, turn 26

We camp in northern Portugal. Messengers from the east are few, but we gather that the Prince has ordered Bordeaux all but abandoned and our northernmost armies are moving to join him as he heads for the rebel city of Dijon, to make good our word with the French. Toulouse too is very lightly held, but seemingly unthreatened. Of late the King drinks and makes merry with the guard often, spinning great yarns of Danish history and his personal exploits from his youth, but the blackness in his gaze is growing. I'm no witch, but I can sense what is coming.

Near Zaragosa, turn 27.

We've moved to the outskirts of the Spanish province and learned that the garrison has been substantially reinforced. The enemy clearly outnumbers us, and has a superiority in cavalry and infantry troops, some armed with deadly javelins. King Knud wanders through the camp, slapping backs and shoring up courage among the militia.

Word out of the France is that debt has crippled production at Toulouse, preventing the retraining of battered units. Prince Charles has moved into rebel territory.

Soon the siege begins.

Besieging Zaragosa, turn 28.

We've reached the walls. The Spanish commander, a man named Vaasco, sent a messenger to demand our surrender, proclaiming both the superiority of the troops he had in the city and the nearness of his reinforcements. He was sent back with a warning, that any of the men of Zaragosa who did not surrender would be slaughtered.

The last word from Prince Charles was that the rebel garrison was small and weak, two militia archer units backed by some bloodied spears and mailed knights. Debt was mounting, but expectations were high of another successful negotiation with the French regarding Marseilles.

Siege of Zaragosa, end of turn 28.

On the eve of battle the King is joyful. The weather has been still and dry, and the men are well rested and ready. When the Spaniard Vaasco gathers his banners by the gate, we form up to await his sally. The King, with no time for a speech, simply delivers an old joke about not chasing the enemy too closely for fear of their loosened bowels.

The King has detailed instructions for the spearmen, they're to form two lines with room between for the archers to fire in a tight line into the enemy. They are not to simply charge into melee, but instead to form up first, close enough that the opponent's cavalry cannot charge but not so close that his infantry are drawn into a fight. Meanwhile the archers will light their arrows to drive fear into the Spanish, and the Black Worms will ride to the walls in support of our weakened spear flank, while our Huscarls ride to the walls on the other side.

The pocket develops perfectly, with the enemy cavalry engaged by our spears, his infantry desperately trying to form up under our fire arrows, and our cavalry charging on both sides of them. Fighting so near the walls, we have shelter from enemy javelins, arrows, and tower bolts. The King kills Spaniard after Spaniard, working his way toward the gate. I watched him decapitate one man against the wall, swinging so hard he had to dislodge his sword from the timbers before he could continue the massacre.

When our Huscarls charge in behind where the enemy general has engaged our spearmen, his will falters, and in that moment our spears cut him down.

King Knud drives the enemy back through their gate, butchering them, and they are saved from a total disaster only by those of their men who had fled already and reformed at the town square. The King, with a froth of blood in his beard, roars order for his guard to pursue. The militia spearmen struggle to make their way through the gate with good order, blocking the Huscarls from following the King's guard. The Black Worms, surrounded by enemies, tear up the city streets and enemy soldiers throw down their weapons in despair as we pass. Some are trampled under, some wail and cover their faces, and the rest flee in any direction, even back to the rest of our army. It is a glorious charge, with me right by the King's side.

At the square we meet a stubborn unit of enemy spears, recently reformed, and smash them aside. Another reformed spear unit, just a dozen men strong, moves up to pin us in place and suddenly enemy javelins come flying in thick and fast. There is a moment of unutterable clarity for me as I look desperately about. Where are the Worms? Where is the King's Guard? Behind us is a trail of death and destruction, hundreds of dead, but atop those piles, here and there, is the body of a Worm or his horse visible. It's enough. It's too many. There are no bodies left between King Knud and the storm of javelins.

Pierced a dozen times over, the mighty stallion of the King falls. Lord Knud, feared, dreaded, and much beloved servant of two gods, struggles to find his feet as the last of the Spanish spears swarm over him and run him through.

Screaming our rage, the last remnants of the Black Worms lay about us. I try to keep my head, bellowing that we must get clear of the square. Too proud to break, five of us charge through the encircling javelin throwers and press out the north end of the square, far from the rest of the army to the south. Damnable Spanish Jinetes follow us, and before we can reach the north gate we must turn to fight them back. They are killed, but again javelins have reached us and fall in a cloud amidst the remnant of a remnant. My horse falls from under me, and I am spilled into the street just as the enemy's last few scattered bits of cavalry roar down the street. Blackness takes me.

I wake sometime later, with the sounds of battle still near. I am able to drag myself to the wall of a cottage, though my legs are crushed, to watch the rest of the fight at the square. The enemy sits there, gradually cut down by our militia archers. Huscarls give their lives to cut down the last enemy archers, and by the time the last exhausted Spaniard falls the square is awash in blood.

(Note the one 'healed' bodyguard member)

The King is dead, long live the King. In truth King Charles' time came long ago, and in the end Knud knew this. I can only hope the new king carries out the mandate of Odin and restores the Danes to their place in history.

My body is broken, and I, the last of King Knud's Black Worms, have spoken all the words I have left.
Southern France, turn 29.

"Look down at your feet men. Go on, look! Some among us would have me cast aside the work of these past decades under the ruse that it was my father, and not I, who set our feet on this difficult path. Some would have us lay down our arms and seek peace in these foreign lands. So who is the master of your feet? Who set your feet on the path you now bestride? You are, every one, the masters of your own feet.

I do not command feet! I command men, as did my father before me!

And for me, it will be god's will above all. If your feet take you along another path, slink down it you coward, dragging your belly in the dirt! For us men, us sons of Vikings, we will walk the path that God and King have set for us until we find it's end!"

The men roared as King Charles dismissed them from the gathering, in the middle of the road to Dijon. Word of the death of King Knud arrived only a few hours ago, along with my father's journal and a sack of Spanish coin. The most striking thing about the book was how many empty pages wait for me in it. I mourn my father, but I also hope someday to find so valiant an end.

King Charles had already assumed the mantle of leadership at the encouragement of the noble council some years ago, but now it was firmly in his hands. He dismissed a claimant for his sister's hand immediately, and heard a Papal messenger soon after. The Pope had orderd a cessation of hostilities with Spain.

I am not often privy to the King's thoughts, but it was clear that this message pleased him, I suppose because it offered him an overwhelming reason, supported by the old King's own words, to not take revenge for King Knud's death. We broke camp and reached the walls of Dijon later that day, setting a siege immediately.

A small force of Spaniards was reported near the flighty garrison of Zaragosa, but the King send word they were to hold there.

Siege of Dijon, turn 30.

Another suitor for the Princess, also turned away. King Charles, ever mindful of the Code of Chivalry, evaluated his force in siege of Dijon and determined to take most of it towards Milanese lands, which we would need to capture next. He left the new crown Prince, Sweyn, in command of a mixed scout cavalry and militia archer force with orders to sack the town.

Word came to us on the road south of Dijon that the new Prince performed admirably, though his voice failed him in his pre-battle speech. Rather than attack the enemy's heavily defended gate where towers could fire at them from every side, Sweyn ordered that holes be knocked in the walls along the closest axis and the scouts be sent in quickly to clear away enemy archers.

It was done, just so, and losses in the sack of the town were few. Prince Sweyn has decided to name his guard the Red Hawks, they were fleet afoot this day and earned their name.

Added to the florins from Zaragosa the treasury was, at last, solvent. The money would likely be needed, for we faced another negotiation with the French over Marseilles. Recognizing his victory, King Charles sent a veteran warrior to watch over Prince Sweyn and keep the line of succession safe.

As it turned out the French were quite anxious to have Bordeaux, and putting Zaragosa into the deal earned us a few florins beside. Marseilles was ours!

The King's sister then negotiated a ceasefire and a wife for Prince Sweyn out of the shocked Spanish as they watched the French investiture of Zaragosa. So hungry were they for peace, that they paid us some 2,000 florins for it and a husband for their daughter. Relations were poor, but we left an ally and a trading partner behind us all the same. Sycophants at the court were quick to crow over King Charles' clever coup.

On the road to Northern Italy, turn 31.

Prince Sweyn met his new wife for the first time. Reports have it that he is quite taken with her. Fresh troops are sent from Toulouse to Marseilles, passing the old French garrison on the road. Confused Spanish forces gather outside French Zaragosa as our garrison departs, and a diplomat is dispatched to speak to the Milanese about the surrender of Genoa.

Northern Italy, turn 32.

The Council has asked that we make entreaties to the Turks, they are anxious to know what lies on the road ahead of us. For myself, I am more concerned about the Milanese. We have few florins to offer them, and they are notoriously tight fisted about giving up any possible advantage. We offer them everything we have to avoid a war, and they send us away empty handed.

Our spy slips into Genoa, and discovers their Duke commands it with a light garrison. It will soon be ours.

Northern Italy, turn 33.

A daughter is born to crown Prince Sweyn. King Charles is heard to wonder aloud if Odin's plague of daughters on his line hadn't yet passed. The King and his spy determine that, after Genoa, Milan will be our next target, and a tough nut to crack. A ballista is ordered to the front to aid it that coming siege.

Besieging Genoa, turn 34.

Genoa was seemingly taken by surprise at our attack, as only their Duke was within the walls when we arrived. An army heavy on infantry sets to work building ladders and rams, while the Milanese dispatch reinforcements from their capital to aid the city. Our own reinforcements, including the ballista, stop just short of the city as well.

Word reaches us that Emperor Henry of the Holy Roman Empire, husband of King Charles' own sister, has discarded our alliance to maintain his friendship with Milan. Dark tidings indeed!

Trade rights and maps are exchanged with the Hungarians, filling out our view of eastern Europe.

Near Genoa, end of turn 34.

Milan has sent a force of crossbowmen backed by spears to block our reinforcement of the siege of Genoa. The King watches the battle from a hill west of Genoa, but determines not to lift the siege to intervene.

Our ballista crew cracks jokes about everything being much smaller in Milan as they catch sight of the Milanese crossbows for the first time.

Our cavalry ride out to either side as our spearmen rush forward. They all meet in the middle, on the hill chosen by the Milanese captain.

That same captain flees for his life afterward, the last man of Milan left standing on the field.


Milan paid their ransom, so the captives were released and crept across the border towards their capital. After the battle word reached us of a horrific act of treachery by the French. They've sieged us with a vastly superior force at Dijon under a captain named Godfrey.
 
Sieges of Genoa and Dijon, turn 35.

King Charles debates a night attack, but decides that it is unnecessary as the Duke will hardly dismount his men and set them on the walls.

The King has high hopes of capturing the Duke of Milan alive, so he brings his whole force to the battle. In this case chivalry seems to dictate both showing respect to the enemy and striving to keep him in good health to be ransomed.

In the field outside the city we once again ride down those same crossbowmen and spearmen we had just ransomed. Their masters will not be pleased to buy them back a second time. King Charles' Gray Wolves sound the charge of the new King's guard for the first time against them.

In the city a taste of fire tipped arrows drives the Duke from the square, where our men surround him and dismember his personal guard. When he is finally pulled from his horse he begs for his life, and swears that his nation will pay a King's ransom for his head to stay on his shoulders.


He is correct, they pay. King Charles is delighted to accept!

King Charles, after suffering a nasty scrape on his knuckles in the battle for Genoa, recruits a shield bearer to stay by his side. Fortunately it is not I who is tasked such work.

In accordance with our mandate, negotiations are entered with Venice to secure Bologna in exchange for our western cities. After much wrangling, and quite a bit of our new coins thrown in for good measure, a deal is reached.

We have agreed to attack the single unit of rebel peasants parked outside the city, and (In due course) the Byzantines, Venice's current enemy. The peasants are not expected to cause any trouble, so we send the newly mustered town militia after them. The town militia broke, and reported a loss with light casualties. A unit of spear militia is sent to 'mop up' the remaining peasants. The peasants slaughter them almost to a man, on a featureless plain with the spearmen fighting downhill no less.


No more attacks are sent for now, for fear of disorder in Bologna.