You’ll Regret Your Decision, My Lord
The war was short. They invaded and Sieth’s loyal soldiers were slaughtered before the year was out. Count Alastor called for the retreat and surrendered to the King of Danmark. The terms were as follows:
- The county of Sieth would be vassalized under the Kingdom of Danmark.
- Sambor’s daughter, Daria, would be betrothed to the King’s only son – Ture Knudsen.
- Alastor will be offered a position on the King’s royal council.
The Count begrudgingly agreed as he would not risk endangering his legacy any further. Sambor still had much to learn, and his younger brothers as well. After all, he had something up his sleeve. Secretly, he had contacts throughout the Kingdom of Danmark and had learned that many vassals supported Chancellor Prince Erik of Danmark to be the next ruler of the kingdom. In summer of 1103, Alastor met with the Chancellor after a council meeting to discuss an alliance. Prince Erik was the Duke of Jylland and the most powerful vassal in the kingdom. Alastor knew, that with his help, he would be able to invade Obotritia and secure land for not only his heir, but for all of his sons.
Years pass. Cyrus had grown up to mimic his father by becoming a thrifty clerk and running a shop with his wife, Fronilda. Jarec had grown to become a masterful administrator in the kingdom and married his betrothed, Clemencia de Montpellier, an ambitious daughter of a baron. Alastor continued his role on the King’s council with his granddaughter, Daria, under his tutelage. Everyone in the Sieth family was patiently awaiting the day Alastor would make one last attempt to boost the family ever higher.
Alastor was still secretly promiscuous. It made it easier since he was away from home most of the time. He gave up when one of his relationships went sour and things eventually ended. His lover had pointed out in the end that their age difference was great and he had a wife he should be with. Additionally, she knew of his ambitions and encouraged him to go after them before the end. After all, years had passed and he was well into his sixties. It was time.
September 21st, 1109, Count Alastor Sieth decided to make the move. He sent two messengers: one to his friend, Prince Erik – Duke of Jylland, Chancellor of Danmark; the other to his enemy, Duke Wartislaw of Obotritia. He was determined to leave this world a Duke, and leave territory to all his sons at the age of 64. Europe was already in the midst of the Norwegian-Holy Roman Anti-Papal War that had started in 1100. Neither side was coinciding and had ended as the claim became invalid when both leaders were called to assist in the Swedish Revolt of 1108-1113.
Take These Broken Wings
Alastor felt like a broken man who had failed his ancestors. He had hoped to bring glory to his family and his country. The death of his friend, Marshall Udalrich, had only added salt to his tears during a quiet moment in the royal council chambers. His friend Prince Erik, still loyal, talked about taking over the throne of Danmark since Knud had begun to noticeably fade from reality. The prince had spoke of no promises or plans that would favor Alastor or his family. He had lost hope. His son, Cyrus, was unfortunately called to war in Aragon to fight in a Holy War as requested by King Knud himself. Cyrus took up the position of Marshall of Sieth and spoke of his own plans to launch a new war against Obotritia before leaving.
The old Count had stayed in his bedchambers all morning when he had discovered his wife had passed away in her sleep. For many years she had been faithful, where he had not. Nonetheless he remarried to a young woman of 22, Feodosia, in the year 1113. She had kept him company and was diplomatic with the issues that arose in court. She became invaluable to him as the days went by. Until his son Cyrus had finally come home.
“Father,” Cyrus greeted him in the royal council chamber after a meeting adjourned in the year 1115. “I have returned and I have plans to show you.” He approached the table and unrolled a map.
Alastor’s tired, weary eyes rose to meet his son’s. He smiled at him as memories of practicing in the barracks flooded back. Cyrus knew that he may not get a chance at the throne or any land, but he had heart. He wanted to fulfill his father’s dream of seeing the family rise up to become powerful. To leave behind a great legacy.
“We’ll need the support of Prince Erik of course, but if we secure the funds by the end of winter, we’ll be able to launch an attack and take the remaining lands of Obotritia.” Cyrus looked up from the map. “You’ll be crowned a Duke, Father.”
Alastor coughed and gave a chuckle. “You do your old man well, Cyrus. I’m getting to be far too old now though. You’ve met my new wife, haven’t you? She’s taking care of things for me. I’ll be gone soon. You’ll have to help your brother, Sambor, take the seat. You both and Jarec have made me proud all these years.” He coughed again and took a look at the map. Borders have changed, new lines drawn. Alastor couldn’t read the map with his weary eyes like he could 20 years ago. It was possible though. A long shot, but possible.
“What do you think?” asked the Marshall of Sieth.
“If you want to do it for me,” croaked the Count of Sieth. Everything was getting harder by the day. He leaned onto the table and pushed himself up to stand. Looking into his son’s eyes, a fire had found fuel. “Gather the troops. We head to war.”
The Three Brothers Convene
“That BASTARD!” roared Sambor Sieth, heir and Chancellor of Sieth. “His first-born son is betrothed to MY daughter and he skips over him for his second son to be his heir?” In his rage a table is overturned, papers scattered, and wine pours down a wall after a bottle of it was thrown against it. Sambor paced around the his chambers, fuming. “This is unbelievable!”
“We have to act,” stated Jarec, the youngest son of Count Alastor. Working with Prince Erik was a privilege serving in his administration, but his son, Duke Harald, was quite the opposite. After Prince Erik’s death, Harald was quickly made Duke of Jylland and changed the entire administration of the duchy in less than a week. The alliance between Prince Erik and Count Alastor was broken. “We can’t let either Harald or the King’s new heir take the throne of Danmark. We’ll be vassals forever. We’ll never regain our independence!” The three brothers agreed.
“It is a shame my plans were not ready earlier,” digressed Cyrus, Marshall of Sieth. “Once the prince died though, we’d be stuck and have had to rely on mercenaries. We couldn’t draw out a long war if we wanted to. Not by ourselves.” He paced the room, thinking. His two brothers stayed quiet. Sambor spoke up.
“Cyrus,” he started. “We need allies. The best we can do is start a Holy War of sorts.”
“We need a fortune,” interrupted Jarec. The youngest was keen on financial weaknesses in plans. “You’re all thinking about how to best start and how many numbers you’ll need, but you keep forgetting how you’ll fund it.” He sighed began to organize the documents strewn across the room. “There’s funding the war and funding whatever happens after. Father barely had enough to keep Sieth independent in the beginning.” Jarec gave a sorrowful look at Sambor. “Sambor, I don’t blame you for what happened between you, father, and the king, but it proved that we were too weak.” Sambor stared Jarec down. At first with disgust, then resolve.
“You’re right. Not only do we need allies, but gold to maintain position and the war and for the consequences thereafter.” Sambor had felt defeated, but properly counseled. His brothers were by his side as they all were with Count Alastor. He adjusted the table and gathered fresh parchment and ink. The men moved chairs around the table with Sambor declaring, “let’s take what’s ours.”
Crusader Kings 2 Stories 