Despatches from Syldavia

A Picture for Alan of Tradgardland

2012-02-09T15:04:00.000-08:00

In a thread over at the Tradgardland blog, Alan has been discussing some interesting pictures of 16th and 17th soldiers bearing both pikes and missle weapons, a combination which may or may not have been widely used! Alan's post reminded me of some images I have seen here and there of late 18th century Austrian grenzers using a sort of spontoon as well as their musket, the spontoon having a hook mid-shaft, presumably for stabilising the musket for long range shooting. Here is a one such picture of a grenzer scharfshutz , from the magnificent New York Public Library Vinkuizen web site.

http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/dgkeysearchdetail.cfm?trg=1&strucID=125794&imageID=90317&total=94&num=40&parent_id=120437&word=&s=&notword=&d=&c=&f=&k=0&sScope=&sLevel=&sLabel=&lword=&lfield=&imgs=20&pos=58&snum=&e=w

King Ivan's Campaign of 1683

2011-12-28T00:05:00.000-08:00

Shozod, thedusty Bordurian capital located in the Danube basin, had been transformed intoan Ottoman military camp by the early spring of 1683. On behalf of the Sultan, Kara Moustafa Pasha hadamassed over 150000 men under arms from such places as Rumelia, Bulgaria, theBosporus, Anatolia and the exotic oriental fringes of the vast Ottoman Empire; byearly May, these troops were billeted in the city of Shozod, capital of Borduriaand awaited orders there, or were on their way. This astonishing army was rapidly stripping Borduria barren of food andfodder, despite the seemingly endless trains of wagons, mules and even camels bearingsupplies for the army. Kara’s Mustafa’s orderswere to subjugate the upper Danube and the Kingdom of Hungary (comprising theterritory of northern Hungary, now in rebellion against the Habsburgs; southernHungary, or Transylvania, was already an Ottoman vassal), and secure adefensible frontier within Austrian territory. Kara’s Mustafa was an extremely ambitious and capable man who had risenfrom nothing to become second only to the Sultan; his vanity and ambition werehis Achilles heel however; he had already laid out plans to exceed his ordersand to take as much of the territory of the Imperium as possible (to his ownadvantage) by striking its fat underbelly, the capital of Vienna. The Habsburg Imperium crushed, he dreamed ofturning south, of taking Venice and invading Italy, even of taking Rome itself.

The Pasha tookstock of the reserves of men and materiel available to him and of the time hewould need to win his major immediate objectives for the campaign. Heavy snow and then protracted rain in theearly spring had saturated the roads and slowed transport of supplies and hisplan was now running late. New suppliescould be wrung out of Hungary and the southern Austrian provinces once cropswere ready, but even maraudage takestime, as do sieges of heavily fortified cities. Kara Mustafa knew that he hadto move quickly to be in secure winter quarters in Austria by autumn. Nevertheless, he had not yet gained completecontrol over the Balkans. Syldavia,Ragusia and the Venetian client state of Dalmatia were of some strategicimportance in the long term but were not essential immediately, nor were theyreal threats to Ottoman control of the Danube. Surely their fall would be inevitable, as would that of Venice itself,once the power of the Imperium was broken. So, on the 20^th of May, 1683, Kara Mustafa commanded his armyto march north into Hungary, where it would meet up with the forces of alliedWallachia and Transylvania, and thence march on toward Austria. The Ottoman threat thereby passed Syldavia byand King Ivan gained a reprieve.

Having ignored KaraMustafa’s attempt to coerce a Syldavian surrender and having in fact taken uparms against the Ottomans (technically alongside the Venetians), King Ivan Iwas preparing himself for the worst, a large-scale invasion of Syldavia fromBorduria. A more cautious man wouldlikely have bowed to Kara Mustafa rather than face the rather awesome force hehad assembled in 1683. Unable to thinkof backing down, King Ivan put his regiments on alert and drilled them endlessly,he saw that fortifications were supplied and ordered patrols to comb thefrontier for evidence of an invasion. Ivanalso brought up the strength of his army by training new drafts of men and bycalling militia companies to assemble at regional forts where they were amalgamatedinto auxiliary battalions.

In August 1683,finding the Bordurian frontier only lightly guarded, Ivan ventured a proactivemove and sent nearly his entire army into the field. A major force (including the King’sMusketeers, the Wladir and Ragusia infantry regiments, the Hum militia, the irregular“Grenzer” company, the Cuirassier Regiment, a squadron of irregular scoutcavalry and artillery (with a handful of heavy siege guns, recently obtained ata good price from the Venetians) moved up the Wladir river fromDjordjevaro. With them, Ivan forced hisway through the small, fortified frontier towns of Mocjiro and Orehovo on thenorth bank of the Wladir river and finally laid siege to Klow itself. If itcould be taken, Klow (and the adjacent St. Vladimir Grad fortress) presentedstrong points from which the Ottomans might be better resisted when they returned.

Typically ambitious,King Ivan also sent a strong detachment (consisting of the Travunia and Zetainfantry regiment, elements of the Ragusia, Travunia and Zeta militias, theDragoon Regiment and the small squadron of the Household “Husjzar” Guards(acting as hussar scouts) north over the St. Mihailo Pass with the intention tocut off eventual reinforcement or resupply of Klow from the east. This force stormedthe weak Bordurian fortification guarding the pass and then descended into theWladrujan plain. While the presence ofthis second force did cause the Bordurians distress, and paralysed theBordurian detachments in Istow and Neidzdrow, Ivan found that he was unable toremain in effective contact with it. Theforce bumbled about for a time before moving, as intended, to occupy the small townof Ottokardin, east of Klow, which controlled principal routes of access to thecity from the east.

No real relief force forKlow was mustered immediately by the Bordurians, as they were weakened by theircommitments to Kara Mustafa’s army and caught unprepared by King Ivan’s offensive. The undermanned Bordurian garrison of Klowproved to be determined, however, and the Syldavian army amply showed itsinexperience in this sort of technical warfare. Furthermore, the Syldavian army was short on suitable artillerynecessary to force the issue and lacked professional engineers. The direction of the siege rested in thehands of several of the new émigré officers, largely in the artillery (a branchoverlooked by King Ivan to this point) who possessed some idea of theprincipals of military engineering. Thesiege endured nearly three weeks before the artillery officers had trenches anda redoubt in place that could bring the army’s handful of heavy cannons to bearon a vulnerable portion of Klow’s walls and on a city gate. Once these were breached, Ivan launched anassault which resulted in a short but sanguine battle that ended with theSyldavian troops taking control of a section of walls and opening the citygates. Bordurian resistance collapsed atthat point and the city was taken.

A 19th century artist's impression of the entry of King Ivan into Klow, 1683.
Some details are erroneous. Count Nikolai Mikolic,
shown mounted at left centre, was not present nor were the Household Husjzar horse
(in yellow and red uniform), and the King's Musketeer Regiment (background,
wearing blue uniform) were still wearing round hats). Nevertheless uniform colours
are thought to be accurate.

It was a day of greatrejoicing in Syldavia and in Klow, when Ivan entered the old capital city ofthe Almazoutian dynasty. He was thefirst Syldavian king to do so since the Ottoman conquest of Wladruja in1430. The downtrodden city, which still rememberedwell its former days of glory, turned out to welcome Ivan. The mood of the countryside was more mixed,however. Communities of old-timeSyldavian farmer families flocked to the King’s banner, while those of morerecent settlers, from Borduria and the Ottoman empire, installed since theOttoman conquest were anxious at best. Some of these, including families descending from janissaries andholders of timar feudal holdings,packed up their households into wagons and streamed off into Polishov asrefugees rather than remain.

A Bordurian reliefforce was, in fact, being amassed as Klow fell; its advance was halted when scoutsreported the presence of the second Syldavian force in Moltuja, which wasassumed to be waiting to entrap the relief column. A second halt came when news arrivedregarding the siege of Vienna. Incredibly, Kara Moustafa’s siege had been broken by the counter-attackof a united Austrian-Polish army under King Jan Sobieski and Archduke Charlesof Lorraine. Even harder to believe wasthe news that the Ottoman army was routed with huge losses at Vienna and that itsruined remains were streaming in chaos back south toward Shozod with theAustrians hot on their heels. The Bordurianswere stretched very thin as the majority of their army went with Kara Mustafato the disaster of Vienna (though one imagines that the noted Bordurian talentself-preservation would bring some of those soldiers home…). The Bordurian pasha, Hassan Muhtar, still onhis hurried way home from Vienna, was in no position to intervene directly andso district commanders in Borduria were forced into a very defensive posture toprotect Borduria’s northern frontier as well as the provinces of Polishov andZympathia. Accordingly, the reliefcolumn intended for Klow was used to reinforce the St. Vladimir Grad fort. The weak and now isolated Bordurian posts inMoltuja, Wladruja and Zympathia had to fend for themselves for the time being.

Theatre of Ivan's campaign of 1683, showing approximate routes of his two attacking
forces along the Wladir River (left) and over the St. Mihailo pass (right).
Defensive positions of the winter of 1683-84 are noted in magenta;
very small towns and villages are in green and large towns are indicated in yellow.

King Ivan was greatlyencouraged by the progress of his campaign (naturally enough, he now hadcontrol of Klow, the strategic hub of Syldavia) and the trouble that hisenemies found themselves in. Afterleaving a garrison in Klow, Ivan attempted to exploit his advantage by eliminatingBordurian detachments in western Wladruja that could menace his supply linesand then by attempting to besiege the Bordurian-held fortification of St.Vladimir Grad, which commanded the frontier between Wladruja and Polishov. It was late in the year however and again theconduct of a siege proved a challenge for the Syldavian army. With no real progress and few local resourcesleft to sustain his army, Ivan broke off the siege and retreated to winterquarters. He established the bulk of hisforce in Klow and set up defensive positions at strategic posts controllingaccess to the city (Ottokardin, Nie Zilheroum, Klasdroje and Orehovo). He established a new supply depot in Klow andwaited for spring while he cogitated impatiently for a plan of attack.

Happy Holidays!

2011-12-24T09:26:00.000-08:00

It is time for the now-traditional Syldavian Christmas greeting and toast, brought to you by a chosen grenadier of the Polishov Musketeers Infantry Regiment. Some of you might remember him from last year; he is back this year to wish you and your families the joy of this festive season and a happy and interesting year to come.

It is a very busy time here, as we are travelling visiting with families and old friends and delighting in our three-year-old's excitement at the holiday's bustling social round. And sleeping in so far as we are able - something lacking the frenetic last few months. I'm away from my Syldavian army but I am scribbling away, in a few pleasant minutes here and there, at my next post on King Ivan. As well, in a few minutes before retiring each night, I am putting the primer and base colours on a unit of Bordurian cavalry I brought with me... It is a time of happy progress on all fronts.

My thanks for dropping in this blog over the last year. With help from Alan of Tradgardland fame, I am looking forward to presenting you the results of some real games played in 2012.

Syldavian History 1681-1682: Dbrnouk at the centre of attention

2011-12-10T00:35:00.001-08:00

Grand Vizier Kara Mustafa

King Ivan’s effortsafter 1677 to modernize Syldavia’s military were timely indeed. In 1681-82, Grand Vizier Kara Mustafa, theOttoman Sultan’s chief minister and satrap of Rumelia (the western provinces ofthe Ottoman Empire, comprising the southern Balkans) put in motion a grand planof aggrandisement, both Imperial and personal. Kara Mustafa sought to mount an aggressivecampaign against the Habsburg Imperium and to bring Hungary, then (as always) dissenting fromHabsburg rule, firmly under his control in doing so. In order to prepare the way for his plan, andthrough occupation and intimidation, Kara Mustafa attempted to consolidate hishold on the Balkans and to secure from that region both sources of men andmateriel. He also sought access to portsin the Adriatic from which he could sustain a naval threat to Venice or movetroops around the Balkan Peninsula. KaraMustafa amassed troops in Borduria and Wallachia and turned those client statesinto forward bases for his push northwards into Hungary. He attempted to extort Syldavia’s submissionthrough diplomatic threats backed up by raids into Syldavian territory fromSkhoder and Borduria. Similarly, thefree petty-state of Ragusia (the city of Dbrnouk) was threatened by KaraMustafa with outright annexation and extermination of its ruling council if itdid not consent to vassalage, to turn its fortress, fleet and fortune over andto aid the Ottoman fleet to confront Venice in the Adriatic. Dbrnouk’sexcellent fortifications, upon which Ragusian independence largely rested, hadbeen seriously damaged by an earthquake in 1679 and were still in repair threeyears later. The city’s governingcouncil felt quite vulnerable to the Ottoman threat as they knew that they couldnot hope to resist a determined Ottoman effort from an occupied Syldavia, andthat they could not defend themselves against Venetian reprisals that wouldinevitably come if they consented to be used as an Ottoman naval base.

Part of the fortifications of Dbrnouk

Scrambling to react tothe Ottoman threat, Ivan mobilised his forces and succeeded in pushing backraider forces that attacked the towns of Cetinjow in Zeta and Djordjevaro inHum. He personally led the force thatvanquished the Hum raid. Fortunatelyfor Ivan, Kara Mustafa was impatient and impetuous; he had already begun tomove the bulk of his army up the Danube and did not bother to ever send morethan a small force against Syldavia. Nevertheless, not knowing Ottoman dispositions, Ivan kept his forces, theirnerves taught with dread, on guard.

The Venetians were notidle in this time and did much to add to the tension of the moment. In great anxiety himself over the Ottomanoffensive, the Doge sent emissaries to attempt to coerce the Syldavians and Ragusiainto vassalage once again as a means of better controlling the Balkan frontierand Balkan military forces (the Venetian army was not so very strong). In opening a front on the Ottoman’s westernflank in the Balkans, the Doge hoped to deflect some of the force movingagainst the Imperium and to create opportunities for re-conquest in theMediterranean islands at the same time. Messengersbrought the Doge’s stern admonishment to join in the fight against the Ottomansunder Venetian leadership to King Ivan and the Ragusian governing council evenas Ottoman troops were being amassed on the Bordurian frontier. Being entirely aware of the weakness ofDbrnouk’s defences, and informed by their spies of another impending raid into Travuniaand Ragusia from over the St. Mihailo Pass, the Venetians ultimately took theinitiative themselves and landed an improvised force of mercenaries,Oultramarinos, a light cavalry squadron and some artillery (including a fewsiege cannons) north of Dbrnouk, with the intention of seizing the city whenthe bulk of its troops were engaged with the Bordurian/Ottoman raidingparty.

A Ragusian man with Dbrnouk in the background

Ragusia had plenty ofits own spies, however, and knew of the Venetian plan of annexation. The leader of the Ragusian ruling council,Nikolai Marcusj, was a very crafty fellow and hurriedly mobilised his own forces(largely militia) and proposed an emergency meeting to King Ivan, who was innearby Hum province, having just repulsed the first Bordurian raid nearDjordjevaro. Marcusj met with King Ivan near the border village of Gladinajur. There, Marcusj proposed a joint defence inthe short term (ostensibly against the Ottomans) and a political union, whereRagusia would re-join the Syldavian kingdom as a semi-autonomous province legallysubject to the King but retaining its traditional laws and quasi-Republicangovernment. King Ivan was astonished bythe proposal but eagerly agreed (hardly needing any encouragement by hisministers who seemed well-informed of the proposal and rather too quicklyproduced papers legalising the union…). Returning to Dbrnouk with the Ragusiandignitaries and detachments of Ragusian and Syldavian troops, King Ivan andMarcusj intercepted the Venetian force. The political officer in charge of the army was more than vexed to learnof the de facto fusion of the two petty states; to overrun tiny and friendlessRagusia was one thing but an attempt to annex a Syldavian territory throughnaked force would be outright war on a country Venice hoped to steer back intoits fold and one with mutual allies with Venice (the Imperium). Even if it was a small and weak state, warwith Syldavia would be a pure gain for the Ottomans and a significant problemfor Venetian strategy to keep the Ottomans out of the Adriatic. The Venetian officer was a prudent man, heabandoned the planned move on Dbrnouk and to save face when challenged to explain thepresence of his own force, he had to concede to join the conjointSyldavian-Ragusian expedition against the Ottoman raiding parties inTravunia. In this venture, the Venetiantroops played a useful role (in one key skirmish, their siege artillery was used to effect against afortified position, forcing the Ottomans to leave the field), beforedeparting. Nikolai Marcusj went to bed ahappy man, having more than trebled overnight the number of troops defendingRagusia and in having repelled one weak Ottoman threat and one a very significantVenetian threat through a diplomatic coupde main that changed little for Ragusian political reality. And what delicious irony to have had thatVenetian army in the field technically inthe defence of Ragusia! King Ivanwas also extremely pleased, for he had expanded his kingdom by recovering a long-lostterritory without a shot fired, and gained a major city and a port. The port was significant for the trade andrevenues it would bring, even if it was not well-connected to Syldavia’s heartlandor rivers. In Venice, the unfortunate office incharge of the aborted mission had to explain to the glowering Doge that he hadat least forced Syldavia and Ragusia into the war squarely against the Ottomans. And elsewhere, in Szhod, Kara Mustafa put hisplans of conquest into motion...

Syldavian History of the 17th century

2011-11-26T20:49:00.001-08:00

Syldaviabegan the 17th century in possession of only a fraction of its historical territoryand was fortunate to have even that. Borduria held the rest on behalf of theOttomans and all of the country would have been entirely occupied if not forthe long intervention of the Venetians. Evenin the lands that remained in its possession in the 1600’s, Syldavia’s sovereigntywas open to question, as their kings had been vassals of the Venetian Republicsince shortly before the arrival of the Ottomans in the north-western Balkans. While the Venetians exercised their power inSyldavia principally to their own advantage, their interest in using thewestern Balkans as a front to contain the Ottomans did have the effect of proppingup Syldavia and the Almazout dynasty during their period of utmost weakness.

By thereign of King Karel II in the mid 17^th century, Venetian dominancein Syldavia began to chafe, most notably due to the trade monopoly and demandsfor taxes and ongoing troop contributions for the reinforcement of the besiegedVenetian army in Crete. Few of thosesoldiers ever returned home. Karel II’s intention was of course to continue topush back the Bordurian frontier but the Venetians’ attentions had, by then, beenturned toward their Mediterranean empire. The troops Karel lost to the struggle over Crete greatly weakened his effortsto recover more territory. Karel didmanage to retake the strategic town of Djordjevaro, key to the upper Wladirriver valley, but could not hold it in the long run. When the last treaty of vassalage expired in 1658, Venice was terribly weakened by theexpensive war still going on in Crete and was not in a position to coerce arenewed pact. Karel and then Ottokar VIII managed to forestall the question ofvassalage for years by signing trade deals favourable to Venice and consentingto a mutual local defence treaty. Syldaviahad regained its sovereignty.

King Ottokar VIII. Note purported Mace of King Muskar at right.

Ragusia (the territoryof the city of Dbrnouk) had also defected in the same manner a generationearlier and had guaranteed its security by building impressive fortifications aroundits port, through the growing importance of its trade which brought wealthrendered it too important for most neighbours to attack outright) and by newstrategic alliances. The governingrepublican Council of Dbrnouk extended preferential trade rules to the Ottomanswho then used Dbrnouk as a preferred (if secondary) port in the Mediterraneantrade. This was a matter of someimportance as trade goods originating in or passing through the Ottoman Empirewere prized throughout Europe and by supporting a separate market in Dbrnouk,the Ottomans cut into the trade of their adversary in Venice. Dbrnouk’s significance as a centre of Balkantrade was still limited however, as its access to the continental interior waslimited by poor roads and by the eternal hostilities on the Bordurian frontier.

Ragusian Irregular Infantryman, 17th century

With thediminished authority of Venice, Karel II, Ottokar VIII and their successors stroveto culture closer relations with the Imperium. The Habsburgs had played, since the time of Alexander I, more or less therole of a friendly uncle to Syldavia. Theywere certainly interested in expanding their influence in the Balkans and inworking with enemies of the Ottomans. Better yet, Syldavia was too far from the Imperium’s real borders topermit substantial gestures of aid and real diplomatic entanglements. By the latter 17^th century, manyyoung Syldavian nobles passed time in Austria, as students or wastrels. Aswell, Syldavian mercenaries found their way into Imperial service and some ofthese proved quite successful, at least at lapetite guerre. The experience ofthese men led some of the sons of Syldavia’s privileged families to venture toVienna (Wyenow in the Syldavian tongue) and to undertake military careersthere. Upon their return to Syldaviathese men commonly found their way into positions of political and militaryleadership, resulting tin a general sympathy for the Imperioum in Syldaviangovernment. With the battle againstBorduria going nowhere, Ottokar VIII turned to Imperial examples to modernisehis forces.

Syldavian Irregular Light Infantry and Cavalry of the mid to late 17th Century (image actually from the fabulous Vinkhuijzen Collection
http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/explore/dgexplore.cfm?col_id=206 )

Until the late 17^thcentury, the Syldavian Army was for the most part an improvised force built ofvaried and indifferently organised bands of troops raised by individualcommanders who were, in turn, held commissions from the Crown or forces raisedand organised through ancient clan kinship systems. While pike-armed troops were a necessity ofthe times, an important part of the army comprised light infantry and cavalrywell suited to the rough landscape of Syldavia’s interior. The soldiers themselves were of rather good quality,raised locally of hardy men whose former lives as shepherds, farmhands, woodsmenand the like were no less demanding of endurance and determination than theoccupation of soldiering. Like those of manyother regions of the Balkans, Syldavians often found their way into the forcesof the Imperium and of various Italian states, where they enjoyed a hard-wonreputation as wily and redoubtable fighters particularly adept at skirmishingand raids.

Despite being made ofgood raw material, the Syldavian army was hampered by its lack of formal trainingand organisation (outside of the clans) and by its commanders’ variable technical(in)expertise. Commanders preferred skirmishengagements (where their knowledge of the land, personal leadership and couragewere enough to give the Syldavians parity with their opponents) and avoided massedbattles. The efficient use of masses of troops was largely beyond them. As a result, Syldavia’s military forces were typicallyunable to break the long-standing stalemate with their Bordurian foes whoenjoyed the advantages of numbers and strong defensive positions.

Musketeer and Pikeman of King Ottokar VIII's army, circa 1660 (image actually from the fabulous Vinkhuijzen Collection

http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/explore/dgexplore.cfm?col_id=206 )

The first initiativesfor modernising Syldavia’s army came under King Ottokar VIII who in the midstof his reign (1652-1669), instituted moves to formally train modern modern Continental-style musketeersand artillerymen and improve the casting of cannon. With these improvedtroops he managed to push Bordurians out of the strategic town of Djordjevaroonce and for all. After the prematuredeath of Ottokar VIII, his sister, Beneficia (1669-1677), assumed the throneand continued to push the improvement of training and drill and instituted aformal bureaucratic office (the KönikstzrwaZyldav krag ministarstvo or Royal Syldavian War Ministry) charged withoverseeing supply, the artillery and fortresses. The campaigns of her reign saw both advancesand reverses and the pushing the Syldavian frontier several miles further upthe Wladir River. The most important militaryreforms were made under the leadership of King Ivan (1677-1712), the son ofQueen Beneficia. Ivan was nicknamed“Iron Head” because of his infamous temper and bloody single-mindedness.

In their youths, CrownPrince Ivan and his cousin Count Nikola Mikolic gained personal experiencewith modern methods of warfare as cadets and then as officers in the HabsburgImperial Army. Ivan returned to Syldaviaupon ascending to the throne in 1677 while Nikola remained to work as a staffofficer of the newly appointed Field Marshall Duke Charles of Lorraine. Ivan dreamed of reclaiming the Syldavianterritory still held by the Bordurians by breaking the impasse of borderskirmishes through a decisive offensive campaign. A more fully modernised army was essential tohis goal and, from the start of his reign, Ivan worked to introduce a system offormal and permanent regiments. Hebrought with him from the Imperium a cadre of experienced officers looking foradvancement (both Syldavian and émigré professional soldiers) and, as a richImperial gift to the new king, a body of Syldavian émigré troops who had beenin Imperial service as musketeers and as troopers of a dragoon regiment. Both bodies of troops had in reality dubiousreputations. These soldiers werereconstituted into Syldavia’s first formally organised modern regiments comprising the simplynamed King’s Musketeers and the Dragoon Regiment who, with the oldRoyal Guards (now a formal regiment as well), formed the basis of aprofessional army.

Living under thewatchful eyes of the King, church and kinsmen, and patiently drilled intodiscipline by the King and his officers, these miscreants eventually wereshaped into dependable and disciplined soldiers. Once he was satisfied with his results, KingIvan split up his regiments to serve as training cadres around which whole new regimentswere built. By 1681, Ivan was trainingmen for four regular regiments of musketeers, one of heavy horse and one ofdragoons. As well, a formal provincialmilitia was instituted in an attempt to circumscribe the power of the clans inthe countryside. From local militias, chosenmen were selected to form a small light infantry force comprising a couple ofcompanies. With these troops, King Ivanwas equipped to face the challenges and opportunities that were about to bepresented, unexpectedly to him and to Syldavia.

History of Syldavia from the 14th to 16th century

2011-11-19T20:47:00.001-08:00

In the late14^th century, Syldavia was caught in a vice between the Venetians whocontinued to expand into the Balkans from the northwest and the Ottomans whobegan to press into the Balkans from the southeast. Moving north from the ruins of Byzantium, theOttomans overwhelmed Bulgaria in the 1390’s. When Borduria fell soon afterwards,Syldavia suddenly found the Ottomans on their northern and eastern borders. Thewhole region fell into a chaotic and fearful reactive stance for the nextcentury as the Ottomans pushed incrementally to the north. Syldavia reinforced its frontier forts andwaited grimly. In order to stave off pressure on its vulnerable trading fleet fromboth the Venetians and the Ottomans, the independent city state of Dbrnouk choseto become a nominal tributary (on very liberal terms) of the Ottomans in 1469. They stayed assiduously out of conflict as faras possible and free of any real Ottoman occupation. The Ottomans, preferring to tax Dbrnouk’strade rather choking it off by making the city into an isolated theatre of warwith Venice, left the city largely alone.

Dbrnouk in the 17th century

Syldavia’s mountainousborder and its marginal value to the Ottomans given their much greater interestin richer lands further to the north (notably the Danube corridor and theHungarian plain) saved Syldavia in the short term. A combination of stubborn military resistanceaided by troops and fortifications paid for and built by the Venetians,diplomacy and the continued resistance of Albania further prolonged Syldavia’ssemi-autonomy. Nevertheless, through incessantraids and episodic small campaigns, Syldavia gradually lost most of its inlandterritory to the Ottomans and Borduria by 1430. In between these campaigns, the desperately weakened, King Karel and hissuccessor King Grygor II pledged vassalage alternately to the Venetians and theOttomans and a few times to both at once, in order to forestall outrightconquest. Under unremitting pressure,however, (especially after the fall of Albania in 1468), Syldavia was finally overrunin 1494 and annexed to the Ottoman Pashaluk of Borduria. At the 11^th hour, with the final Ottomanadvance bearing down, the ageing King Grygor knew that Syldavia’s time had runout. He smuggled his family out ofSyldavia with his most loyal retainers and treasure. The promise of a possible future for thedynasty secured, Grygor led a final raid against the Ottomans in the WladirRiver valley near Rivajow, where he was captured. In shameful captivity, Grygor was executed, his body buried in an unknown place. The Almazout family fled in exile to Italyand later to Vienna, where they were received with sympathy by the Habsburgcourt. The family converted to Roman Catholicism at this time, a move notedboth in Vienna and Rome. The young heir in-exile,Alexander I, become a notable officer of the Knights of Malta and a scourge ofthe Ottomans at sea, many of whose corsairs in the Adriatic were now based atCattaro. Many Syldavians became exilesas well as refugees moved to Croatia and some to Italy, Austria and furtherafield. There is even mention of a troopof mountaineers from Zympathia in the employ of far-off Tradgardland.

The Ottomanoccupation was soon contested. TheVenetians organised and armed displaced Syldavian refugees and allied with therestive clans still residing in the coastal provinces in a long struggle topush the Ottoman frontier back to the east. The conspicuous service of Alexander I with the Knights of Malta servedhim well, as he (now a man in his prime) was given command of a force ofSyldavian exiles, Knights and Austrian volunteers with which he re-took thetown of Douma in 1516 and then lead a night attack on a key fortification inthe harbour at Cattaro in 1517. The portwas opened to the Venetian ships and the Bordurian garrison capitulated oncethe Venetian troops made land. In 1518,the presence of Alexander in Syldavia at the head of an armed force incited apopular uprising (much as happened in 1204) and the bulk of the provinces of Hum,Travunia and Zeta all fell relatively rapidly to the Veneto-Syldavianforces. Dbrnouk became a vassal ofVenice as well. Venice, facing the obvious political situation caused by theuprising inspired by Alexander and considerable pressure from Vienna and theVatican in support of him, reluctantly accepted the reinstatement of theAlmazoutian dynasty as kings of the reclaimed territories.

Venetian-built fortifications at Cattaro, modified in the 17th century

Venetian-built fortifications protecting the landward approaches to Cattaro

The priceof Venetian protection of the Almazout dynasty included a pact guaranteeingSyldavia’s quasi-colonial status and other such niceties as preferentialVenetian trade rights and bases in Cattaro and Douma. Several generations of Syldavian kingspreferred their tributary status to extinction and happily lived with thisdeal. Quite naturally, Syldavian societyand its military followed Venetian trends during this time. While the Venetians oversaw thereconstruction of the coastal territories, including building imposing fortificationsand new port facilities, the military situation was deadlocked in theinterior. The Ottoman (Bordurian) –Syldavian border fluctuated frequently along the mountains separating Wladrujafrom Hum and Travunia at this time; occasional minor gains in territory werebalanced by minor losses. This stalematelasted well into the 17^th century.

King Alexander I, wearing habit of the Knights of Malta

A modern view of the town of Cattaro

2011-11-18T20:30:00.001-08:00

History of Syldavia from the 12th to 14^th century

Last year,I was still involved in relating the early history of Syldavia as a diversionwhilst I painted its 18^th century armies. The story of Duke Jiri trailed off in midstream, partly because I was running out of ideas and certainly out of time,and also because I found writing something deliberately fictional (nothing atall like my real life!) with plot and dialogue and brevity prettydifficult! I quite failed at that. It did amuse me and I would like to get back to Duke Jiri’s adventure but as my original and trueinterest, the 18^th century, comes closer into view I would like tofinish setting out my version of the history of Syldavia. So, here goes…

The Kingdomof Syldavia, first established by Muskar I in 1127 was re-established in 1205by Duke Jiri Almazout, the Duke of Hum. Duke Jiri profited from a popular revolt against the occupyingBordurians and the Viceroy Surov to marshal sufficient forces to throw outBordurian forces from the coastal provinces and then from Klow, the capital andthe interior highlands. The rebels heunified included the general population, a faction of old noble families and amonastic sect allied with the old Muskarian regime, and exiled Syldavians who, uprooted once again by the Venetian conquest of the state of Zadar, returned to reclaim their place and properties in their homeland. The Bordurians were weakened by their own unwilling involvement in the Fourth Crusade, enforced by the alliance of their overlords,the Bulgars, and the Venetians against the Byzantine Empire. That ill-fated campaign brought shame toVenice, ruin to Constantinople, defeat to Borduria and a unique and gilded opportunity toDuke Jiri, who seized the day. In such amanner is history made.

Duke Jiritook the name Ottokar I as King of reclaimed Syldavia and established theAlmazout family as a dynasty. He alsorebuilt the institutions such as old King Muskar’s Church (now Cathedral) of StVladimir, which had made the capital, Klow, one of the leading cities of thewestern Balkans. His son, Konstantin,and grandson Ottokar II continued the war against the Bordurians, breaking theback of their grip on Polishoff and northern Zympathia and expanding Syldavia’sborders for the first time into the Bordurian plains north of the Zympathianmountains. In one notable battle at the town of Bellicosow, Konstantin routed the Bordurian army with their Viceroy present and siezed elements of his viceregal regalia, the gold and jewels of which were used to make the new Syldavian royal crown, an eternal insult to Borduria. These two kings saw to the improvement of the provinces, buildingfortifications, roads, markets, building a new port at Cataro to replace theentrepot of Dbrnouk (still in Venetian hands), and a new monastery and schooldedicated to St. Stanislaus in Travunje, enfranchising the monastic sect whohad worked secretly for a generation to replace the Syldavian monarchy. Ottokar IV is notable in history for his wise and largely peaceful rule and for having reformed laws, instituting a kind of Magna Carta defining the limits to regal and baronial powers.

Seal of Ottokar I, rare example courtesy of Prof. A. Halembique

Over the two hundred years following Ottokar I, Byzantine power (which was largely friendly toSyldavia) disappeared while that of the Venetians increased. One by one, the independent petty states ofthe Adriatic were swallowed up by Venice. The Syldavian kings, now a weakerlot, used diplomacy and tribute payments to maintain their independence fromVenice, but Venetian strategy became more directly menacing by the beginning ofthe 14^th century. King Demetro was forced to assent to become a vassal of the Venetian Republicand to grant a special concession for a semi-independent Venetian free port andtrade centre at Cattaro, which has an excellent natural harbour. These weredifficult times for Syldavia, as it had lost control over much of its coastlineand all of its major ports. The port of Dbrnouk,however, had become an important and prosperous trade centre with a fleet ofits own. Its proud burghers dared to expel the Venetian administration in 1358. The city became arepublic and allied itself with Hungary for protection. Despite Venetian pressure, much illicitSyldavian trade moved through Dbrnouk because of its more favourable location. The official Venetian trade monopoly andother exactions were onerous and the Syldavian population grew resentful ofVenetian interference. While Syldaviawas increasingly pre-occupied by relations with its superpower neighbour in theAdriatic, the Ottoman Turks overthrew the remnants of the Byzantine Empire and stoodpoised on the threshold of the Balkans…

King Konstantin, leading the Syldavian army in battle against the Bordurian Viceroy
and allies at the Battle of Bellicosow, Polishov

A page from Prof. Halembique's notebook

2011-10-16T14:42:00.000-07:00

It is known that while he was working in the archives of the archdiocese of Dbrnouk, Prof. Halembique encountered Prof. Aethelstan Gruber, lecturer in Balkan history at St. Andrew's University. Halembique's (winestained) diary records that the two had many long discussions regarding Syldavian history over meals in Drbnouk's smokey cantinas. We are lucky to have one page from his diary available to us where the two sketched out the dynastic history of Syldavia during the mid 17th to 18th century, with Halembique's notes in his native French and Gruber's annotations in English alongside in pencil. This page will prove quite useful as we head toward wargaming the campaigns of the 1730's and 40's.

Où est Grouchy? (announcing a very cunning plan and a peek at some new Minden grenzers)

2011-10-08T18:32:00.000-07:00

This is High Street, Edinburgh, some of you will know this corner.

Somewhere in this picture are Tradgardmastare Alan and myself, looking for each other! Well, ok, to be honest, it is a Google Streetview picture. Nevertheless, the week before last Alan and I had a rendezvous planned for exactly this spot. I was in Edinbugh for a conference and we took time to arrange a summit meeting to formalize Imagi-nation-ary diplomatic relations between Tradgardland and Syldavia and to negotiate a pact over a pint. I thought it was rather a big moment, as a bit of the virtual Imaginary was about to become concrete. Most unfortunately and to my lasting regret, the meeting didn't take materialize; the Syldavian representative (me, foggy-headed with jet lag and unfamiliar with the city) arrived rather late and missed the Tradgardland ambassador. Tragically, we may have been there within a minute or two of each other. However, we have continued to exchange diplomatic messages and we have put our pact in place.

"What is that?" you say? "Hard to believe"? How could a pact between Tradgardland (beyond the northern frontier of the Imperium) and Syldavia (in the Balkans beyond the southern frontier of the Imperium) work? Will they collectively invade an island someplace? Well, Dear Reader, here is an outline of our cunning plan...

As I arrive at a point where I have collected sufficiently large armies to mount a real game, I have been wondering about how to organize a fun campaign, solo. How to preserve the fog of war, unpredictable human element and character when a single person controls both adversaries (deliberately or with randomized choices)? The best answer is perhaps not to do it solo, but to profit from the experience of the EvE community. Enter Alan to the rescue! He has taken a particular interest in my Syldavia project since the beginning and has been of late working it into his own project.

Our plan is to conduct a Syldavian campaign in two parts: conjointly (facilitated by the miracle of the Internet), and in parallel fashion. The first is a traditional campaign in the vein of "Annexation of Chiraz", one of us controlling the sybaritic Syldavians and the other in charge of the rotten Bordurians. We will submit map moves to a referee and, with his aid, conduct our maneuvers with limited intelligence (that will be me at any rate) and struggle to bring units into contact for battles. Paul, of "Funny Little Wars: Borduria Calling", has kindly agreed to be our arbiter, though one wonders how objective the Borduro-phile will be ;-) . Many thanks to you, Paul. I have recently modified my Syldavian map to better regulate movement and with a few more tweaks and some campaign rules, this part of the campaign organization will be settled. These "regular" battles will be fought by me using my 18mm armies which are slowly but surely growing to reasonable size. I have enough now for a decent battle of 6 to 8 btn per side, though cavalry is still a bit lacking, especially for the Bordurians. Alan will take charge of a frontier theatre, which he will game in the form of small raids and skirmishes. As he has explained on his blog, Alan has been busy putting together a number of small 25mm units using existing figures and painting up some new ones. And while I missed him in Scotland, I did manage to post off to him a unit of RSM Austrians recently hired through eBay, who will stand in for a btn of Syldavian infantry and speed up our start date in the process.

The 18mm campaign will focus on the Polishov region, which offers the principal route of access between Syldavia and Borduria and which has for ages been the most contested part of Syldavia. The 25mm border skirmishes will concentrate on the mountainous territory around Lake Polishov, where terrain offers multiple routes for infiltration but hinders large actions and heavy troops. We have plenty of details still to work out but a clear objective is in now in view. I'm looking forward to seeing the game get rolling as it will be more fun to play a real game with other people rather than simply solo, a nice payoff for all that painting work. It will also be a spur for both of us to continue to make progress with painting. Here is to EvE and the Internet for allowing this campaign to happen!

As we build up to the start of the campaign, my posts in the near future (with others from Alan of course) will be intended to flesh out the scenario, rules and map, and to introduce the armies, their uniforms and histories.

Charge!

Jim

PS:

In order to whet your appetite for more, here is a bit of eye candy: a sampling of a few grenzers recently commissioned from none other Alte Fritz himself, including the Warasdiner Creuzer and Karlstädter Oguliner regiments who will, during their weekends, fight under the flags of the Syldavian Zympathia Grenzer regiment and the Kragoneidin Border Militia. They are the among the very first elements of my ultimate goal, old school-ish 25mm syw armies. They are Mindens of course, sublime figures, and gorgeously painted. I am not so experienced in this scale myself so these will serve as exemplars, I couldn't have anything better to learn from. Pretty nice, eh? They are perfect, right down to their glowering eyeballs. My thanks, Der Alte!

The Zympathian Grenzer Reg't (click to enlarge)

Kragoneidin Border Militia. Don't fire till you see the whites of their eyes! Yes, Der Alte painted them too!

A few more pictures of the fortification...

2011-07-09T20:25:00.000-07:00

As promised, here are some better pictures (or so I hope) of the fortification model. There is still a little fuzziness, I find the 15mm scale a challenge to photograph.

The bastion model; I'll make another one or two of these

The future skyline of the Klow with the Trumpkov Tower at center right?

IR 2 Klow and the Gendarmes horse regiment marching out from the city with hussar picquet escort

Dropping in on my Vauban fortification

2011-07-09T06:17:00.000-07:00

I'm home for a very short stay between a couple of work-related trips. There are still places on earth without wireless or even internet access, I seem to be good at finding them...

Needless to say, with travelling and family, the summer hasn't been amenable to much progress on the Syldavia project, though I have made some. I've done a little painting here and there and completed some bits of my fortification. I have experimented with sizes of ravelins, some wall sections and a bastion. As I described a few months ago, the pieces are made from masonry-textured panels of hydrocal cast here at home. I used sculpting putty (mostly Milliput) to finish details and hide imperfections. Trimmed down to size with a dremel moto-tool and with their ends well-filled with a cheap sculpting putty and sanded flat, the pieces fit pretty well together. They are a bit of a both but simple in concept and the work gets much easier with new piece. They are solid, durable (though I haven't yet dropped one) and not so heavy really.

The bastion works well, I think, the walls are ok and the ravelins are all too large or too small! I think that I will replace the ravelins with another bastion. The gate is definitely still a work in progress as it is far too ungainly and I still need a ravelin set up to be an outer gate and part of a covered way These pieces still need a lot of clean up, detailing and painting but from the pictures below you ought to get the general idea of how they are ending up. The fortification is quite large for my purposes, and is obvious by how the town buildings dwindle into insignificance. I don't need any more wall pieces and I can't really see how to use more than a half-circle of a fortification, except for eye candy.

Comments are welcome of course!

I see that my photos are not very good, I'll try to post new ones today.

Jim

Envoyé

2011-05-28T12:54:00.000-07:00

Envoyé…

7 September 1713

Leaning against the rail amidships on the Lightning, General Ritter Petr Kotrimanic felt the ship being carried away in the tide. A puff of wind fluffed out the Lightning’s sails and the ship began to move with a sense of purpose. Soon the sounds of Dbrnouks’ wharves faded away and then the building of the town’s seafront and their bright roofs began to fade from sight as the ship pulled way into the Adriatic. The ship’s crew settled into their busy routine while out of their element, the passengers, Kotrimanic with them, settled into a mood of listless waiting.

Ritter Kotrimanic, now more properly entitled Ambassador and retired General, reflected on the expected two days of isolation ahead of him. Kotrmanic’s appointment was a newly-created position as Ambassador-at-large to the states of the western Mediterranean, his orders were to establish contact with the states of the region, including the newly-seceded Catalonia, to determine which, if any, might become useful allies and trading partners fro Syldavia, It will be a chance to breathe and catch my thoughts he thought, not that it will be too restful here… was his second thought, as his cramped personal cabin came to mind. To avoid that stuffy and mouldering space brought the necessity of sharing the deck with the ship’s sweaty crewmen, the Syldavian officers travelling with him, and his own small troop of hussar body guards. Five young officers hung together in a knot exchanging absent-minded conversation. They were a cadre of officer-cadets on their way to a secondment in one or another regiment of the Imperium, part of the training of more Syldavia’s more favoured (or well-connected) young officers. None seemed too sure of their footing on deck or of the ship’s unnatural and destabilising movements.

Already in a worse state were the half-dozen hussars forming the Ambassador’s Kotrimanic’s troop of bodyguards. These men were hand-chosen from amongst the older enlisted men in Syldavia’s pair of hussar regiments, experienced and competent veterans who had survived years of la petite guerre with Syldavia’s Bordurian adversaries, and who were approaching the legal end of their term of service. They re-upped for the less onerous and more exotic circumstances of service and somewhat better pay of a diplomat’s bodyguard (all more tempting than going back to the farm…). For all of their fierce moustaches and leather-hard faces, they looked hopelessly out of their horsey element on board the ship. Their booted heels and scabbards skittered about on the deck, they smacked their furred hats off their heads on the low door-frames and ropes and a few began to turn noticeably pale and fingered their dolmans’ buttons as the ship began to pitch and roll ever so insinuatingly. Ritter Kotrimanic was wholly a landsman as well and wondered about his own stomach. So far so good for me, it wouldn’t do to be caught in a weakness in front of these men, thought the Ritter.

The Lightning was to land at Monfalcone, a small port at the very northern tip of the Adriatic, Kotrimanic was then to begin his mission by traveling in the opposite direction, going to Wyenow (the Syldavian rendering of Vienna), where he would shepherd the officer cadets, and where the Emperor was convening an assembly of his allies. Kotrimanic would meet the Syldavian ambassador at Wyenow and they would begin to conduct their diplomatic missions in light of the meeting’s outcome. Upon arriving at Monfalcone, Kotrimanic would rendezvous with the Syldavian ambassador to Venice, Ritter Mathej Musiloj and they would travel on to the conference in Wyenow together. He was somewhat worried about the meeting with Musiloj, one of Syldavia’s wiliest and most experienced ministers, and one who had long held one of the country’s most important foreign postings. With his years of experience as diplomat Musiloj would surely have some advice to offer.

The whole affair was bittersweet to Petr Kotrimanic. Only two years ago, he was a newly minted Lt. General with the favour of the King and a brigade under his hand, and the Polishov War turning, full of opportunities, in Syldavia’s favour. Those were two tense and bloody years to be sure, but ones with a momentous and a glorious result for Syldavia. But barely a few months later, the old warrior King Ivan « Ironhead » was dead and gone, a new regime presided in the Könikstzrwa Zyldav krag ministarstvo (Royal Syldavian Ministry of War) and the doorway to Kotrimanic’s career advancement and even his chances at further senior command snapped suddenly and irrevocably shut. Instead, here he was watching the Syldavian coast, with the mountains of his native Travunia far off in the eastern horizon, fall away as he and his career were shipped off into what might turn out be a dead end. No, I must not look at it like that, thought Petr. It isn’t the stuff of dreams to be sent away to an ambassadorship at the far end of Europa but it isn’t the end of the road. Petr still held a royal commission, a new title and land grant that would help keep him confortable in his waning years. His mission, was truly an independent command and one that could lead to great distinction. Who knows, perhaps there will be a new war next year, and a need for officers like me….

A Revised Map for Syldavia

2011-05-24T11:38:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

I have updated my map for Syldavia, fiddling with minor details like the direction of river courses, the location of national frontiers and changing some place names. The most noticeable change is the presence of a hex grid, each hex is supposed to be 10km in diameter. This particular change is a big help (obviously!) figuring out distances between places in real terms, such as numbers of days (or hours...) of travel between point A and point B. Syldavia is smaller than I thought!

Jim

Response to the Stylish Blogger Award

2011-05-04T19:47:00.000-07:00

Sure he is stylish, but can he write?

It is high time to respond properly to the Stylish Blogger Award, which was generously granted to Despatches from Syldavia by Alan of the Duchy of Tradgardland. As I understand them, the conditions of the award require that I post a link to the award’s donor, so click here to pay Tradgardland a visit (and say Syldavia sent you!)

Also, I am to reveal seven unknown things about myself. Well, I’m 6’6”, a former astronaut and…

Well, you already knew all that. Here are six other things:

1) My roots in this this curious hobby go back to a childhood gift of some Britons guardsmen, then of some Timpo knights which were followed by my own purchases of Airfix 1/72 figures, bought with saved-up small change. After quite some long time, I stumbled on some old lead toy soldiers that needed repainting, did so and so came to the realisation that I could paint my Airfix soldiers. My model was not just any old thing, it was Félix Phillipoteaux’s tableau of French cuirassiers charging a square of Highlanders at Waterloo, a picture of which I found in a book. Stirring stuff even when shrunk to a page, the real thing (at the V&A) is a dizzying, larger than life epic. I recall horses bearing very fierce looking armoured troopers pouring into the centre of the painting, the Highlanders grimly bracing themselves off to the left, wreckage to the right, and cavalry charges extending off into the distance. Better than a movie and I was hooked in a moment (the first one is for free, kid) and still am. No doubt this story sounds familiar to you…

2) I have been lucky enough to visit a few Napoleonic battlefields. I once worked in Portugal and quite by chance spent a few days at the battlefield of Vimeiro. I was on the foreslope of the hill occupied by Craufurd and Nightingal. I also put my hands on the table where Jean-Andoche Junot signed his capitulation. I have fond memories of a fabulous little restaurant in the village that served a tasty local wine. I spent a little more time at my table there than Junot did at his. Nearby were fortifications of the famous Lines of Torres Vedres and in that town were cafés serving espresso and delicious little bean tarts. Strange but very tasty. I enjoy food and drink as you might have noticed.

3) I also once spent some time in the ruins of a tiny castle in the Ardennes once owned by Godfroi of Bouillon. He mortgaged his lands to the Bishop of Liege in order to finance his crusader army (1st crusade). It paid off as he became King of Jerusalem, but died there in 1100. One story told around there (that corner of Belgium) concerning his death is that he ate a poisoned apple sent by the malevolent Bishop, who did not want to return the land to the newly-enriched King. You know what they say, « An apple a day… ». Belgium was wonderful place to be a student and there was of course loads of absolutely splendid Belgian beer to be had in the local. And there is always a local…

4) As for war gaming, readers will know that I am currently working in 15mm but am planning a classic Grant-style project. I have RSM and Mindens at the moment and am looking forward to seeing my own Sittangbad-esque scenario in the big and spacious 28mm-1/56^th scale.

5) The first wargames store I ever saw was the defunct Minifigs/Skytex shop in London, near Victoria Station. This was back in the age of Punk and I hadn’t yet seen anything better than Airfix and a few copies of Military Modelling. Imagine the revelation brought by seeing figures mounted on bases, let alone all that stock on display. It was Aladdin's cave! I still remember the thrill and I still have the catalogue as well.

6) Lets see, what else? My formal introduction to organised social (that is to say not solo) wargames with experienced gamers came with people who were motivated by the ideal of a moving diorama. Some of their tables were very beautiful and as a result of that, I spent a lot of effort in pursuit of "realism", though obviously falling short of my goal. Stumbling upon EvE and the Old School-inspired sites of its readers was a wake-up for me and I’ve since read Grant Sr., Jr, Young and Lawford, etc. What great fun! I’m sold and like the Old School "it is a game" ethic but I have to say that I still find the visual esthetic almost terrifying in its simplicity. The distracting excesses of realism are swept away, leaving flat, non-textured green-painted surfaces, terraced hills, etc; it is all quite abstracted. That is taking me some time to get used to we’ll see how I work out a compromise.

7) Last thing – and it is my worst character flaw – I’m chronically late. Nevertheless, I do finish my projects, and Syldavia will be completed. There is a plan and progress, even if you can’t see it from your side of the screen. I look forward to presenting it.

Finally, Nominate other bloggers for the coveted award.

At the current pace of things, pretty much every site I visit is nominated or soon will be! That is odd for an award, but it is a good thing, as this process lets us point out who and what is inspiring and generates a little discussion. I’m a great fan of several sites, especially of some that are widely admired and I believe already so honoured. Rather than gilding the lily, I’ll nominate a couple of sites that have not yet been noted (so far as I know):

1) The Hetzenberg Chronicles (http://hetzenberg.blogspot.com/)

AJ’s well-known and much appreciated serialized novella is to my mind a fun and original experiment in building an complex and playful story as the backdrop for a wargames campaign.

2) Desperta Ferro ! http://desperta-ferro-ed.blogspot.com/ and Defiant Principality (http://what-if-catalonia.blogspot.com/)

Lluis’ sites about WSS campaigns in Spain, uniforms and wargames also have a storyline, lots of game results and are really active.

3) Frundsberg Freistadt (http://frundsbergfs.blogspot.com/) Fireatwill’s site also boasts an intrigue-filled storyline married to a campaign. Great fun.

and here are a couple that are a little off the beaten EvE track :

4) Golden Sun (http://goldensuninn.blogspot.com/

Really useful and interesting 18th century digitized books and other things.

5) Dante’s wars (http://swampster-danteswars.blogspot.com/)

Not 18th century, but lots of very well-painted Medievals and Ancients in 15mm, and really skillful terrain building. Mr. Swampster does everything I want to do, except better.

Finally, I have two compatriots (two so far as I know) in the Syldavian imaginations biz:

6) FUNNY LITTLE WARS - GARDEN CAMPAIGNS - BORDURIA CALLING

http://funnylittlewars-gardencampaigns.blogspot.com/

Paul‘s project is all about the interwar period, and looks pretty much like authentic Hergé, relaxed and very playful. I wish I could campaign in my yard too, but there is all that snow ! You have to admire his courage or question his judgement however; he has taken up the side of the Bordurians…

and 7) Alan at Tradgardland, has worked Syldavia into his 18^th century Imagi-nation and ventured into the interwar period himself. Alan’s blog is ample evidence of an active and unfettered imagination (and thank goodness!) and it was a key motivation for me to go public with my own modest project.

Stylish Blogger Award

2011-05-01T17:54:00.000-07:00

Tintin about to be awarded the Order of the Black Pelican (from Hergé's Ottokar's Sceptre)

I opened up the internet today to find a surprise awaiting me, Alan (aka Tradgardmastare of the Duchy of Tradgardland, at http://tradgardland.blogspot.com/) has honoured Despatches from Syldavia with the "Stylish Blogger Award". I believe that Alan is terribly generous as what passes for style around here is pretty threadbare compared to the splendour and wit of some of the web sites we are lucky enough to visit, and I myself have been so inactive the last while that even the "blogger" part of the honorific seems a stretch. Nevertheless, and to be serious for a moment, a nod from Tradgardmastare (who runs one of my favourite places on the web) is indeed an honour and one to be gratefully and graciously acknowledged. My thanks, Alan. The Stylish Blogger Award looks like an interesting exercise given some of the spots I have read in the last few days and I would be pleased to take this buck and pay it forward. I'll try to have something interesting to say about this tommorow.

Cheers!

Appointments and Promotions

2011-03-27T12:51:00.000-07:00

Once again, time flies by and my little Syldavian garden lies neglected for a few weeks. The work life has been intensely busy and I have had to concentrate on meeting numerous deadlines. I haven’t felt full of Imagination or energy, sadly. However, I have managed to do a tiny bit of painting and a bit of terrain-building (the Vauban fortification) here and there. Today I’ll give a little attention to Syldavian foreign relations, making long-overdue contact with some other EvE rulers whose story lines seem to be pertinent to my own in one way or another. No offense is intended to those not mentioned here - more ambassadorships are possible!

The mis en scène:

Koprow Castle, Klow, 1731; the door of the Royal Privy Secretary’s office swings open, the Secretary drops his quill pen and bolts up from his desk. King Stépan, a big-boned man with rather wild, jet black hair strides into the room and slaps a thick dossier onto the Secretary’s desk.

“Ah, Lazlo, there you are. And here you are, these are my plans for renewing our Foreign Policy”.

“Er…Foreign Policy, Your Majesty”?

“Yes, indeed, Lazlo. Amongst other things, we need to rejuvenate our relations with other small... er...well... middle-sized Powers. We are forever buffeted by our bigger neighbours, always at the mercy of their interests and shying from their blows. We need other allies among states our own size, places like Bembach-Shönau and New Byzantion. But, we have neglected our relations with these states, we lack ambassadors where we need them. We lack an ambassador in Tradgardland, even, our old friends. It is a shameful situation.”

“What are your commands, Sire?”

“Well, select some Ambassadors, obviously. I need some reliable and observant people, people who can open doors abroad for us and keep us up to date with what is going on. I’d like to send young Count Ignatio Hartthröb to Tradgardland, he will be able to establish contacts with the artists and scholars of the Duke’s court, perhaps we can attract a few of them here. And some time away from court might save him from being challenged to a duel… it would be a sad thing to lose his talent with a fiddle and the court ladies will be morose for a year. Bembach-Shönau and New Byzantion are among our nearest neighbours, we need to maintain peace and trade with them and to be aware of their military preparations. What do you think of that commerce-minded fellow, Lowenbrow, for Bembach-Shönau?”

“Ah, Majesty, a wise choice for certain, but you appointed him Ambassador to the Reich Duchy of Beerstein a year ago. We have already sent his first report of the famous Beerstein brewing techniques to the new breweries at Pivow. ”

“Oh, indeed, quite right. I look forward to tasting…I mean seeing their progress. In any case, I would like to see experienced, prudent and percipient men sent abroad. Perhaps a recently-retired officer with administrative experience, or two. I need a list of candidates by tomorrow afternoon, we’ll announce the appointments after we review Elkow’s regiment. Remember that these men are to be duly invested as Knights of St. Vladimir, and the heads of State who receive them are to be awarded the Order of the Black Pelican, with all the rights and dignities that come with it.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The Most Ancient Order of the Black Pelican, presented to Foreign Rulers
and to those giving the most outstanding service to Syldavia

Announcement of the Office of the Chancellor, in the Service of

His Royal Majesty, King Stépan II of Syldavia

Stépan II, King of Syldavia, is pleased to announce the appointment of the following noble and meritous Gentlemen to the office of Ambassador and their investment as Knights of the Order of St. Vladimir:

Count Ignatio Hartthröb, who shall present his diplomatic credentials to the Duke of Tradgardland,

Baron Mihailo Milutin, who shall present his diplomatic credentials to the General Council of Tipplebruder,

Ret. Colonel Baron Janos Kerevice, who shall present his diplomatic credentials to the Reichfurst of Bembach-Schönau,

Ret. General Baron Josef Hrzik, who shall present his diplomatic credentials to the Basileios of New Byzantion,

Ret. General Ritter Petr Kotrimanic, who shall present his diplomatic credentials to the Viceroy of Catalonia,

Ritter Paul-Mihailo Pompphrish, who shall present his diplomatic credentials to the Ezerherzog of Hesse-Cassoulet,

and

Ret. Col. Ritter Ijani Bartolemi, who shall present his diplomatic credentials to the King of St. Maurice.

Upon formal appointment, these officials will depart forthwith to establish their embassies, where they will serve, at the King's pleasure and with the King’s confidence, as the King's spokesmen and witnesses abroad, in the service of the Syldavian homeland.

Decreed, in the name of King Stépan II

A few more buildings

2011-02-13T19:52:00.000-08:00

It has a been a while since I posted something here, I’ve been trying to keep up with a number of deadlines, dealing with a delightful little flu and enjoying a little time with my daughter. In any case, in little bits here and there, I have been continuing to work on the urban redevelopment project I discussed in my previous few posts. This time, I was working on houses and other buildings and have finished enough of them for a post.

Here are a couple of pictures of some scratch built buildings, some of which are brand new and some of which I made quite some time ago for a “Suvarov in Italy” campaign. That campaign never really got off the ground (maybe one day) but the buildings make a useful legacy for the Syldavia project as I think that they will be ideal for rural and town buildings, especially for southern and coastal Syldavian settings. I’ll supplement them with some of JR Miniatures Italian buildings derived from the defunct Architectural Heritage line. The pseudo-Italian buildings approximate reasonably well the simple plastered masonry and tiled-roof buildings depicted in Hergé’s King Ottokar’s Sceptre.

Never having been satisfied with the solidity and finish of my own attempts to a building houses in balsa and cardboard, I made these houses out of Sculpey modeling putty. Had I seen what many of the EvE contributor are making, such as these super buildings from Lead Gardens, I would probably have persisted with these materials. Sculpey isn’t the easiest of materials to use, but it is fairly cheap and strong for this purpose and more widely available around where I live than Milliput, for example and paints well. I made the houses by building up putty blocks over an armature of crumpled aluminum foil. After I hardened the blocks in the oven, I filed and sanded more or less even surfaces and corners onto them and cut some finer details like door-frames into the putty with an exacto knife. Doors, shutters and other details were made of paper or wood, painted and then glued on. The roofs were made of card cut and glued to fit the building form. I covered these too in Sculpey, into which I attempted to model a tile roof texture effect. I found it difficult to produce the exact texture I wanted but, viewed from afar through squinted eyes, the texture looks ok anyway! The buildings were finished with acrylic paint and various washes.

The only other thing worthy of noting here is that I attempted to scale down the buildings in order to have models that fit the ground scale of the rules I was using at the time. I wanted them to look like the buildings they were supposed to represent but also to remain plausible in size in relation to the size of a battalion. This is, of course, a standard approach but I think now that I could have scaled the models down yet further, having seen the results that Charles Grant obtained, and those of numerous people inspired by his book. I came up Grant’s book quite some time after the first of these houses were made and I decided to try to keep a measure of consistent scale in my inventory of buildings.

I think as the buildings came out reasonably well. To my eye, the scaled down effect was more easily pulled off with farm buildings (perhaps because of the myriad small houses, barns and outbuildings that can be represented) than with more elaborate urban structures full of cluttered rooflines and other gingerbread.

A final set of buildings that I have also recently added to the collection are these three half-timbered structures from JR Miniature’s German Napoleonic line. These will represent places in Syldavia’s interior and northern frontier that, in my min’s eye, ought to have a different building tradition reflecting more ready access to wood and a stronger Gothic/Slavic flavor (rather than Italian) in architecture.

The small model is a barn, from the JR Miniatures German Napoleonic range. The other two models are the Ratshaus from the same line. That on the left is one painted by and purchased from none other than Ioannis, Mr. Leuthen Journal himself. Lucky me! He did a splendid job on it, especially the weathered metal roof and the mottled plastered walls in between the timber framing. The model has a lot of character and I am pleased that what was a bit of an impulse buy worked out so well for me. The building on the right is my own work with a fair amount of conversion; I cut off the cupola and placed it on top of a small teetering tower that I added to the front of the model. I built up the base of the cupola into a belfry and added a somewhat extravagant roof and a clock. The additions were made with Milliput while the belfry roof is card covered with strips cut from an aluminum pie plate, intended to suggest copper sheeting. I’m not at all convinced that the effort working with sharp edges while building the belfry roof was worth it, however I now have a unique and idiosyncratic model of a rather flamboyant gothic civic building. I’m not changing it now! It will soon appear as the town hall of the city of Klow, for example.

A final photo here gives a look at some of my recent buildings set up together; a preview of the skyline of Klow, Syldavia’s capital.

Coming up next – the Syldavian Army begins its review!

(Extended) Holiday Properties Pt. 2

2011-01-06T22:12:00.000-08:00

Among the improvements I have been attempting to make to my Syldavia project terrain pieces are fortifications. In my mind’s eye, Syldavia and Borduria ought to have a generous sprinkling of fortifications and walled towns built by the various powers that have held sway in these territories at one time or another during their tumultuous histories, Byzantium, Hungary, Venice and the Ottomans among others. I’d like to be able to bring a bit of this colour to the table with some appropriate town walls and small fortifications that can help evoke the setting and serve real roles as needed in games. It would be nice to have a siege game down the line, for example.

Among the nicest commercial fortification models that I know of are the Hudson and Allen 25mm medieval castle (now produced by Vatican Miniatures) and Terrain Warehouse UK’s 15mm Vauban star fort, both of which are splendid models but rather large and a bit pricey. Big tables and big budgets are needed for these! I don’t own either and in any case I would like to build my own to measure. They are, however, useful guides for my building plans as both make good use of a modular system composed of relatively simple elements (wall sections and towers/bastions). My plan is to make some prototypes of similar basic wall and sections in appropriate style, which can be easily reproduced and used in a flexible fashion on the table. This is obviously a long-term project so in the short term so I chose to make a small fortification in order to experiment with materials and methods. Here are a couple of photos of my experimental building; it was intended to be a ravelin, which is intended to be a ravelin for a Vauban fortification but is large enough that it might be best used as a battery or bastion.

The outer wall of the structure is made with of panels of sculpting plaster (hydrocal) that I cast myself, glued to a styrene foam core. The panels are textured to suggest masonry; I tried to obtain a rough, irregular finish suggestive of large blocks and a stylized look. My mould produces panels about 12cm x 10cm which I trimmed down to strips about 4.5cm tall with a Dremel cutting tool. The panels at the vertex of the ravelin walls were trimmed to give a 13^o set back from vertical, an angle that (I think) approximates the slope of Vauban-era fortification walls in the sources I had at hand (perhaps one of you knows if this is a good approximation…?). The embrasures were also cut out of the panels with the Dremel.

Making the mould and the master was a little time consuming but not seriously so and once the mould is prepared, one can produce great numbers of blocks with ease. The mould material (Smooth-On urethane) was fairly easy to use. Hydrocal reproduces surface detail very well and is a strong and durable modelling material once dry.

The deck, ramp and interior wall were made with LINKA blocks cast in hydrocal and a couple of other materials I experimented with. These fit together quite easily (being much better designed than my panel or mould!) and give a good appearance with little effort. One has to take some care however to fill the seams between the blocks, upon painting it is clear that I wasn’t quite careful enough. Seams, corners and the masonry on the wall top were all modelled in Milliput.

Here are a couple of photos of the finished model with its initial painting and some figures.

I am not sold on the rough texture nor on the slope of the wall, which should be, I think, a little sharper. The LINKA blocks might make a better surface for the outer wall. Any future ravelins I make ought to have a more acute point as well. Based on this little experiment, master models suitable for casting wall sections and bastions (and ultimately medieval walls?) seem within reach. Of course, all of this takes me away from figure painting and games, so it remains to be seen how much of this will be realized ; ) The model is however very solid and strong, it should prove quite durable.

On a final note, here is a model of a battery I made way back – gasp – some 30 years ago, quite soon after I visited the Musée des plans-reliefs the first time (see post of 19 December). I’ll not comment on the (lack of) plan but it was made of REAL masonry – small bits of gravel mortared together as I couldn’t think of another way to make it. That was back in the day before I realised I could glue my Airifix soldiers to bases so they would stand up… It was a real pain to build as I recall, but I recently rescued and repaired it. I’m going to re-use it in my campaign as - you guessed it – an archaic, decaying fortification. Even the Bordurians ought to be capable of taking such a fort!

Cheers!

Bordurians Sighted!

2010-12-25T23:42:00.000-08:00

While Syldavians sleep deeply after their Christmas feast, dreaming of their just-eaten roast goose and sugarplums, a patrol of Bordurian cavalry probes Syldavia's mountainous eastern frontier. These men and their horses are hard indeed, inured to the privation of the trail and to the snow. They ride through the frontier town of Vukaselo, making off with horses, lambs and plum brandy with barely a noise, and disappear into the mountains. Later, an aged veteran swears that the men were Wallachian light cavalry, feared servants of the Bordurians. What does this forebode?

-----

These are unfinished figures which I have been painting in quiet moments here and there during the holidays. They are 18mm Eureka SYW cossacks, painted to resemble a few illustrations I have of 17th and 18th century Wallachian boyar cavalry, sometime allies/subjects of the Ottomans. They will, I hope, be finished shortly and then can march to join the rest of my Bordurian force. The unfortunate village is of course a quite innocent Christmas town, one which has seen quite a few holidays but never a hostile cavalry patrol.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T09:49:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas to all of you from the King of Syldavia and all of his subjects! Best wishes to you and yours for a happy and productive New Year as well! Please ignore the "humbugs" coming from the Despot of Borduria!

Jim

Holiday Properties 1

2010-12-19T10:04:00.000-08:00

We are now well embarked on the holidays over here in the Kingdom of Syldavia. I am back in my hometown visiting my family with my own young little family with me, and I am anticipating a fine stretch of days with nothing more important to do than read, eat very well, enjoy family time, visit old friends and indulge in a few other pleasures like pints of stout, skiing, skating on the lake and soaking in the hot springs. Busy busy busy! Clearly it is good to be home.

The goal of this post is to do a do a little tour of a recent terrain project. I have been on a bit of a terrain binge in recent weeks, including the purchase and painting of some commercial models from JR Miniatures 15mm European range, the conversion of one of these models and the construction of a couple of scratch-built buildings. All of this effort comes from a decision to improve my townscapes and rural landscapes for my Syldavia/SYW project. The impulse for this upgrade comes from a trip to Paris I made on business last August, where I stole the time to revisit Les Invalides and the Musée des plans-reliefs, the astonishing collection of 18th century dioramas of important fortifications and fortified towns. It is an amazing and underappreciated collection; the dioramas were commissioned by Louis XIV and later kings and studied by the likes of Vauban and Napoleon. The collection has been subdivided since I first saw it in 1980, but the half still on exhibit in Paris (consisting of models pertinent to southern France and the Atlantic Coast, the rest are now in Lille) has been expertly restored and is now beautifully housed and light to great advantage. The skill of the original craftsmen who worked on these models is to be seen to be believed and it is both inspiring and humbling to see what they accomplished with hand tools and excellent but unprocessed raw materials (for example, raw silk was dyed, chopped and sorted to make foliage). My first visit spurred me to attempt my first terrain boards, buildings and fortifications, to actually attempt paint my Airfix HO scale Napoleonics and to play a wargame with actual rules (Voltigeur, if I recall). One could say that it put me on the path to wargames before I knew such a thing existed and well before I knew anyone who undertook this hobby. So, it should come as no surprise that my second visit sparked a new attempt to reproduce the AHH! effect I had in the museum. A noble quest though utterly vain of course! I’m still well off the mark but I’m pleased enough with some of what I have done recently and have learned how I might do some things better.

Chateau Trompette, Bordeaux

Fortification at Marseilles, I ve lost track of its name.

The gallery was dramatically light, but too dimly so for my little camera

Anyhow, on to the Syldavia project. Syldavian architecture as depicted in Hergé’s book consists largely of fairly humble structures (excepting the King’s medieval/Romanesque castle and Baroque palace) with raw or plastered masonry and clay tile roofs. Many buildings seem to be artifacts of the Middle Ages or at least could pass as such. Also, there are a conspicuous number of towers illustrated in the book, including fortifications, some church towers and most notably mosques’ minarets. I already have a number of buildings from JR miniatures 15mm Italy range (the old Architectural Heritage line, probably my favourite line of 15mm buildings), and several more of my own scratch-built buildings which were intended to pass for Italian farm and rural town buildings. These are perfect for Syldavia’s coast and southern regions. However, I have something different in my minds’ eye for Syldavia’s highland interior. There, the use of more wood and a gothic rather than Italian look seems more in keeping with the alpine context and Slav and German-influenced cultural setting. I also wanted to have some fortifications, both to dress up the town and for use in games.

My first building is a tower, built with masonry-texture blocks cast from LINKA moulds, glued to a wood dowel about 1.5 inches in diameter. Ideally, the tower should be quite a bit thinner than that as a 1.25 inch wide tower in 15mm is a very substantial structure, but this size proved to be a sort of physical limit. LINKA moulds are vey flexible and can be bent and taped around something to impart a desired curve to one’s blocks, normally cast in hydrocal cement. A 1.25 inch diameter circle appears to about the smallest one can effectively make with a LINKA mould; the rubber began to noticeably pucker and deform with the stress this curve produced. At this curve, it also proved very difficult to retain wet hydrocal in the mould so I made the blocks with white hardware-variety epoxy putty and green Milliput. Both of these materials worked well in the moulds; the white epoxy putty set quickly and retained a degree of elasticity if it was removed from the mould a little early. This flexibility helped me fit the blocks to the dowel. The Milliput also worked well though it is much slower to set. Its longer period of malleability also helped me tailor certain pieces to fit, as needed. The LINKA blocks fit together admirably well but the circumference of the dowel did not fit the pre-determined size of blocks precisely. I had to fill gaps with small LINKA bricks and with Milliput which I then gave a suitable texture. Painted, the gaps aren’t so obvious and, in fact, the small irregularities in the Milliput patches help break up the uniformity of the blocks’ texture.

The unfinished tower - I see here that I shoud have filled some joints with plaster a little more rigorously!

I added some buttresses at the tower’s base, and a ring of rampart blocks glued around the top, with some added Milliput details. This work was rather easy. I finished it off with a tiled roof made quickly from card, the eight identical roof panels were erected in pairs over a base which later served as the eaves, and were crazy-glued in place. This step was somewhat delicate but adding card shingles over top hides the inevitable imperfect corners. It is also much easier to model the tiles in card than in putty. Once dry and solid, and sealed with thinned white glue, I solidified the roof by filling it with hydrocal cement.

Tower with roof attached

The roof is attached by a nail which fits into a hole drilled into the dowel at the top of the tower; it is detachable. The roof isn’t exactly symmetrical but it works and I’m not going to fuss with it any longer! Finally, in the attempt to obtain a second and different roof line, I built a smaller watch tower for the tower top with a second very steep roof, also made of card. This detachable spire is also affixed by a nail. It is a bit roughly finished but does give a much different looking tower, one that evokes to some degree the profile of a minaret. A better model of a minaret should be taller and/or thinner than this model however and I will have to put aside the LINKA moulds and go with a simpler method to model one.

Alternative roof: watch tower and spire

Building models by this method (LINKA blocks, epoxy putty) is quite a bit slower and fussier than the very nice and efficient card buildings Stokes Schwartz discussed some weeks ago at his blog here.

However, I’m largely happy with the results I have obtained, even with the greater investment of work, as I like the masonry texture which paints up easily and I can have three different buildings with the core of the tower I made by swapping roofs or leaving it off entirely. I can make another different roof if the mood strikes me one day. Being constructed of epoxy putty, wood and hydrocal cement, the tower is solid, very durable and has a bit of heft. It ought to last for years and years, even through Bordurian sieges.

That is it for the tower. Next up – fortifications!

Jiri receives an unexpected omen on the road to Douma

2010-12-09T22:44:00.000-08:00

The morning following his encounter with the returning Syldavian exiles, Duke Jiri set his newly-expanded army marching back toward Douma. Jiri rode at the head of the column where he chatted with Count Josip Marklin and a few of the other exile leaders who he had invited to join him. East of Starisveta, Jiri’s route back to Douma brought them through a range of low but rough and rocky hills. There, the ancient Roman-built road wound along a steep-sided ravine cut by a fast and shallow stream. Rounding a bend, Jiri’s army approached a gorge created by an imposing cliff on opposite side of the ravine. Less than a hundred yards down the road, at the far end of the cliff, was a small bridge. Merely a few yards away, however, was an old woman in ragged clothing at the side of the road above the stream. Taken by surprise, she turned quickly to look warily at Jiri and his men and then stood aside to give them space to pass. She had been watching a flock of goats on the opposite side of the narrow ravine and a young shepherd who stood on the hillside opposite, above the ravine. The goats too were taken by surprise by the sudden arrival of the men, their big horses and their jingling harness. A very big buck and a few kids had begun to venture out into the centre of the cliff while the dams and most of the kids hung back. All froze and turned their heads to gaze at the men and horses.

Alarmed, the kids on the cliff nimbly turned and scrambled back to their mothers, who herded them to safer ground up the slope toward the shepherd. The buck, however, hesitated, taking one fateful step further into the cliff face. Then, after looking back at the departing kids, it too turned back. However, it was a big and ageing beast with think flanks and both stiff legs. While it turned, its back pushed against the cliff face. Seeking to regain its balance, the buck dislodged the rocks under its hooves, knocking them into the gorge. The buck scrambled to keep its footing, its hooves scraping in vain an instant against the loose rock, and then he too slipped, cartwheeling, into the gorge, crashing into the rocks edge of the stream in front of the dismayed onlookers.

The old woman gasped as the buck fell. One of the men with Jiri cried out "Ha! A pair of silver crowns says that brute of a buck gets up ! Have you ever seen such a beast?"

The buck did struggle to get up, but its foreleg was clearly shattered and he finally stopped, lying back down in the water and trembling. The old woman cried out a second time when she saw him maimed: "Oh no – my poor buck! He is finished! Who will lead my goats through the snow this winter?"

Jiri looked down at the buck and its ruined leg, and then motioned to a mounted archer to finish the animal off. Turning to the old woman, Jiri said "Your animals took fright because of us, ma’am. It is not my wish that my passing should bring you misfortune. Please accept this compensation. It should be enough to buy you a fine buck or two." Jiri dismounted and handed the woman a handful of silver crowns.

The woman took the coins, looking warily with a cloudy eye at Jiri as she pushed back her stringy hair and bowed. "Thank you, my lord, you shall save my flock and my family. We were trying to lead the flock to the bridge so that we can go to the market. Fate! None of us can escape it when our time is up." The woman then gazed distractedly down at her ram, which was now lying still, his battered and sun weather-bleached horns peeking like crescent moons out of the reddening water. She then spoke again, cleverly to Jiri : "You are the Duke, yes? This is your omen, my lord. For a gold crown, I will read it for you, I will ." She poked a crooked tree-root of a finger at Jiri as she spoke and nodded.

"What?" replied Jiri, astonished.

"The old gods still live in these hills, my Lord. They know the fates of men and sometimes it pleases them to reveal them to us, if only we know how to listen. A gold piece, my lord – I’ll read your story for you. Men like you seem to always want to know what is lies in store for them…". A few of the riders with Jiri crossed themselves, a few others pulled out evil eye beads and murmured prayers.

Jiri too was suddenly chilled by the insistent and weather-beaten woman, but he was certainly superstitious enough to want to know what she saw for him as he set out to fight the Bordurians. Besides, with his men and the exile leaders all around him, he knew that he could not seem too fearful of what she had to say. This had better be good news, or else there will be second thoughts through the army within the hour… and she had better not make a joke of this either… Jiri thought to himself.

"Here is you money, woman, what do you have to say, then?" Jiri kept his back to his men and steeled himself for her story.

Pointing down at her dead and bleeding buck with its horns still arching above the water, and then at the Ducal flag which fluttered behind Jiri. She exclaimed "Two white crescents against red – the buck is YOU, my Lord." A few soldiers nodded in assent "Yes, its true - the horns are Duke's the two white crescents." The woman continued: "He was always a strong brute and so damned proud and stubborn!" Some of the men snickered at this and Jiri squirmed a little. "But, so strong as well and he always knew his way in the worst of weather and snow. That buck was as sure-footed as any animal I’ve even, he never put a foot wrong in his life until today. But goats are so…hard to predict … sometimes. He changed his mind and tried to turn about when he should have gone straight on across that cliff. He would be waiting for us at the bridge now if he had bone that ".

"You, lord Duke, you too are poised on a cliff. No matter what, tough footing, your dams and kids going off somewhere else behind you, you can’t turn back now OR YOU WILL FALL!" The old woman wagged her crooked finger again at Jiri’s face, as he blanched and recoiled a little. He didn’t back off quickly enough however, as she grabbed his cloaked shoulder with an unnaturally strong hand and forced him to peer down into the gully, pointing at her buck with that boney finger. "Look hard at his carcass, my lord. His head points to the north but his broken leg points to the east. That is the way he should have kept on going. Your fate, great lord, is that way, to the east." The woman released Jiri the then made a grotesque sort of curtsey "Thank you, my lord, for listening to an old woman. That is all I have to say. Good Day!" she said, and then scuttled up the bank on the other other side of the road, where she seated herself behind some trees and counted out her money.

Brushing himself off and bemused, Jiri remounted his horse and gave the order to resume the march. "On to Douma. And Travunje!"

The Die is Cast!

2010-11-19T22:32:00.000-08:00

Gregor Mihailovic, Velimir Milutin and Duke Jiri rode back to the rebel’s line with Jiri’s standard-bearder and his bodyguard trailing behind, both feeling increasingly agitated. They headed toward the leaders of the rebel side, a ring of over a dozen two dozen men in all, all of whom had their attention fixed on Jiri. Velimir, Duke Jiri and his two men reigned up about a fifty yards from the line, Jiri let his horse prance while Gregor continued on and then began to speak with his peers. A crowd began to gather in a ring around the commanders while sergeants in the battle line adjacent struggled to keep their men in formation; the eyes and ears of everyone were trained on the discussion breaking out amongst the commanders.

A cranky voice called out, cursing, on the fringes of the crowd: "Get out of my way, Oaf! Who is that riding back with Gregor Mihailovic? Blast it, Mirko, there are too many people, I can’t see past – move over! Is that the precious Duke? Must be, with that fancy horse. And there is a flag. Ouf - I can’t see a thing! Mirko…! "

A taller man beside the first answered “Yeah, it is the Duke but be quiet, Blago. I’m trying to hear what they are saying. They are talking – some of them are having a go at Gregor, I am not sure that they are saying. It looks a little hot! Wait, they are waving the Duke over now, here he comes. He is talking to the bosses now …”.

“So, what is he saying, then?”

“Oh ho! He is demanding that we surrender!”

" What? Surrender? Did he say that? Did that peacock just strut up to our line and demand we give ourselves up? What an … "

" Will you shut up, Blago?"

" Well, that takes some nerve, I have to say. Who does he think he is?"

"Quiet, you ass! He said surrender to him. He is acting like a Duke, that's all!"

"What do we need him for? We’ve lived for years without lords now. He’s crazy! I didn’t come all this way just to…”.

“Shut up Blago – he is still talking, I can barely hear. He says that he needs us to retake Syldavia. He will lead us Travunia himself and overthrow the Bordurians. Wait - he just said that he will return the land we once had. Is that good enough a reason for you?"

" Ack – I don’t need any pretty princeling to give me orders – and what is mine is mine!"

"Oh, so you would rather go back to the outlaw’s life in the woods would you? Me, I’ve had enough of being hungry and freezing! I want to go back to my home and he can get my land back for me. How are you going to get yours back if someone is already living there? You’ll need the Duke to be a judge for you. And I daresay you will need a pardon from him to in the end, for all the dirty deeds you did the last twenty years. You’re a bad, bad man my friend! "

"Huh… Look – is that old man Marklin going up to the Duke? They say he is a Baron?"

"Yes, that’s him, and better yet he was a Count, lots of land somewhere in the north, and a war leader years ago. Ha! He is kneeling to the Duke. The others are going to him now; I’d say they all are thinking about getting their lands back. Like it or not Blago, you old scoundrel, it looks like you are going to be marching under the Duke’s banner now!"

------------------------------------------------------------------

An illustration of soldiers of the Duchy of Hum on the
march, from the Vita Ottocari Rex

Standing in the flank of Hum’s levy spearmen, and sweating under his gambeson, Bhojan Antic watched Duke Jiri ride across the valley. The air around him was charged with tension but all seemed peaceful still. A little behind him was Ritter Pawel Vitros, the Bordurian observer, and his two men. Vitros watched tensely and muttered to himself.

Across the valley, Duke Jiri was to be seen approaching the rebel line. A levy soldier near Bhojan cried out "The Duke, he is all alone with them. He must be crazy!" Jiri seemed to be speaking to a group of men who then approached and knelt before him. Jiri then rode along the rebel line with his flag bearer and bodyguard in tow and appeared to be exhorting the rebel soldiers. Finally, he took up the banner of Hum himself and stood up in his stirrups, holding the banner high in the air. What Jiri was saying was impossible to tell, but a great roaring cheer rolled across the valley, leaving the soldiers of Hum wide-eyed. A makeshift and ragged flag of red and white cloth, Hum’s colours, appeared, waving in the rebel lines. Duke Jiri reared his horse back on its hind legs, gesturing towards the rebel line and then towards his own. The then turned to walk back towards his own troops. A number of armoured men of the rebel side mounted up and fell in peacefully behind him.

Bhojan heard Pawel Viros speak urgently to his fellow "Treachery! Just as Baron Dokovic foresaw! We must fly!" A commotion suddenly broke out however. A squad of armoured men seized Vitros and one of his men. Mounted archers shot the other from his saddle as he attempted to flee. The men of the levy looked on, most stunned and confused, but more than a few cheered the sight of the Bordurians being set upon. Bhojan looked on warily; Pawel Vitros shot Bhojan an angry and urgent glare as he was hauled away.

Jiri finally arrived with the rebels at his back and called out, smiling "Be at ease men and welcome your brothers and countrymen! They are joining us and we shall join with them! We march now to Travunia! "

Puzzled whispers spread like wildfire amongst the men, interspersed with cheers here and there.

"Yes, to Travunia, where the people have risen up against the Bordurians! They have the governor and his men trapped in the castle of Travunje and we shall help them! Men of Hum, we go to war against the Bordurians! To avenge a generation of injustices! To avenge the lives of our countrymen lost in Bordurians' wars! To avenge the House of Muskar! To avenge the sack of Starisveta!"

The two armies camped for the night where they stood and started marching in the morning. In the dark of the night however, Bhojan rose and slipped away undetected from the camp. Hours later, he stole a horse from a stable near Starisveta and sped off toward Douma, where he had an urgent report to give to Baron Dokovic.

11 November, Remembrance Day

2010-11-11T11:37:00.000-08:00

Men of the Toronto Scottish going over the top, Vimy Ridge April 1917

Parley

2010-11-07T06:40:00.000-08:00

Duke Jiri rode out to approach the two horsemen seeking to parley. He was mounted once again on his favourite horse, his gleaming black mare, which he allowed to prance for effect. One of the approaching men was Brother Velimir, who was now openly wearing his sword over his clothes. The other man, an extremely stocky man wearing simple armour, looked strangely familiar to Jiri. “Hail, my lord Duke!” said Velimir and Jiri nodding in return. “We are grateful that you have accepted to parley. Allow me to present the spokesman for the returning exiles, Ritter Gregor Mihailovic…”.

“Gregor Mihailovic? We have met before, I think”, Jiri interrupted. Then, as he looked over Gregor’s own fine horse, which he also recognized, he knew when and where.

Gregor replied “Yes my lord, we met on the road a week ago, you were on your way north from Douma on a hunting trip. You had the great charity to help my father and I with our broken wagon. We thank you again, my lord”.

Ah yes, that was you? By St. Vladimir! I took you for a farmer, or so you said you were. You were on your way to Travunia to see your father home, no? And yet here you are, in my duchy and at the head of an army. I ask myself if you were entirely truthful with me, my good knight Gregor”.

Gregor flushed a little, “Forgive me my lord, but I told you no lies. My goal is certainly to return with my father to our old home in Travunia, though our road is far from straight. And I am indeed a farmer. My father was granted a small domain from the Duke of Zadar as a reward for his service. It was nothing more than a farm really but it provided well for us, we raised the some of best horses in all of the Duchy! I have long done my father’s service to the Duke as a knight but we have been farmers for most of my life.

You were at the siege of Zadar then? How is it that you escaped?

My lord, the Venetians and the Crusaders arrived in ships and disembarked very quickly. There were so many of them; the siege was all over and the Duke was dead by the time I arrived with men from my district on the northern frontier. After the sack of the city, the Venetians started to seize the Duke’s lands and dispossessed his followers, like my family. We fled and lost everything of course, except what we could carry with us. There are some survivors of the sack of the city here with us, but not many escaped”.

“But there are over three thousand of you here, I am told. You cannot all be refugees from Zadar”, asked Jiri. “Not all my lord. We followed an inland route to stay away from the Venetians, on back roads through the hills and forests. Many Syldavian exiles have lived in those lawless places since the Bordurians came. They took us in during our passage, and most have joined us, as have some of your subjects”.

“Ah, the celebrated outlaws have come home too, there can be few Syldavians left abroad” repled Jiri, looking briefly over at Velimir who coughed impatiently. Turning back to Gregor, Jiri continued “Well, here you are in Hum. What is it that you want here? Are you here to offer me war? Jiri pulled himself up in his saddle and put his gloved fist on his hip beside his sword hilt.

“My lord, we have come to reclaim Syldavia from the Bordurians. We will start in Travunia for that is where they are weakest, and so we wish to go there immediately. We ask for your aid in this enterprise my lord, although we realize that this is difficult given the power of the Bordurians in your Duchy” said Gregor, Jiri flushed and scowled at the answer. “At the least, we wish to have your leave to pass through Hum on our way to Travunia. Hum is not our enemy but we are well prepared and capable of resisting anyone who tries to stop us. We are strong enough to force our way through…”.

Image attributed to Duke Jiri Almazout, from the Rex Regis Syldavinae, by Abbot Remedio

Jiri responded quickly and coldly “Are you indeed? It is well that you are confident but from my perspective you are caught between the hammer and the anvil and that is regrettable. You are driven from your homes but you arrive here as an armed force, unannounced and uninvited. An army does not pass through a foreign country like breeze, without effect. You have only to consider the misery that has befallen the “hosts” of the Venetians and the Crusaders this past year, in Zadar, here and in the Empire. Your presence here imperils everything for us. At worst, you invite the intervention of the Bordurians who will seek to destroy you and will willingly raze the whole Duchy to do so. At best, you will become robbers and sow discontent. You will surely run short of supplies before long and what will you do then? Your men will prey upon the common folk, who will turn against you. You will spoil the honour of your cause. I cannot allow that to happen. And mark my words – you have a formidable army, but you have a long march across open ground between here and Travunia, and your cavalry is ah… sparse. Are you prepared to try to fight me with my horsemen unopposed behind your lines? With your women and children accomanying you and your strength spent down, you have even less ability to sustain a defeat than I do!” Jiri glanced over at Velimir through narrowed eyes as he finished his sentence. Jiri continued “The only solution for you that I know of, one that saves the honour of your cause and that of Hum, and that will keep Borduria on the defensive, is for you to surrender to me”.

Gregor turned red and muttered as beads of sweat appeared on his brow. Velimir took in a sharp breath of air and looked on tensely.

“Yes, I said surrender. Accept my legitimate authority and leadership as Duke and I will be able to lead you myself to Travunia and against the Bordurians. With your surrender, and only with your surrender, we will have a clear and unified command, our two armies can fight together and the people will know to support you”. Jiri saw that Gregor and Velimir were somewhat mollified by his explanation. He continued “And, as Duke, I can ensure that the restoration of your lost lands and titles is legal and legitimate, or at least compensated. We can start in Travunia. This will probably be of interest to at least some of your number…”. Jiri looked quickly from one to the other of the men before him, catching them both making unconscious calculations and looking like hungry pups with meat waved in front of them. “These are my demands of you. Do you accept?”

Gregor answered soberly, looking reassured, “My lord, I will put your demand to my comrades. They are assembled and await my return”. Velimir looked relieved as well.

‘Well, good then. Let us go together and I will speak to them all. And I would take it as a great favour to be able to review your troops in person, they look quite fine from other other side of the valley”. Jiri spurred his horse forward to keep even with a surprised Gregor and Velimir, and gestured to his bodyguard and standard-bearer to follow.

Encounter with the Rebels

2010-10-27T09:57:00.000-07:00

So, I've been trapped at the desk with a number of big deadlines the last few weeks. I spent the scarce spare time I had on painting rather than thinking about 13^th century Syldavia. Things will be calmer for the next few weeks (I hope…). Here is the next scene of Duke Jiri's story.

Encounter with the Rebels

Alone in the ruined chapel of St. Narcissus, Duke Jiri and his son Konstantin held a whispered but intense conversation about Brother Velimir’s proposition to lead a rebellion and then left to rejoin the waiting army. Soon the mass of men was put grumblingly back into motion, marching towards a dark hilltop a few miles off to the west. A few hours later, at the end of the afternoon, Jiri lead his army over the crest of hill, to see the high wooded hill and the rebel army before him across a narrow valley, just as Velimir forewarned. Jiri ordered his men into battle line and then marched them down into the valley, coming to a halt again on a long low terrace near the valley bottom.

Across the valley, on another slightly higher terrace was the rebel army, arrayed in their own battle line, looking impassively at the Hum soldiers. They were obviously more numerous than the Duke’s army, both of whose flanks were plainly overlapped. Higher up on the slope were the obvious traces of a large camp, smoking campfires, tents, penned herd animals and women and children milling about. Men in Jiri’s army began to mutter and grumble about their disadvantage: There are so many of them, this will be a hard day for us…. Sensing a spreading unease among his men, Jiri called out « Courage, men! They make a fine looking army indeed, don’t they? So much the better! They may have numbers but we have the advantage of cavalry on our flanks, let them worry about that! Stand tall men of Hum! Turning back to survey the opposing line, Jiri secretly suppressed a sly smile; he was impressed and a more than little delighted to see that the rebel force was indeed quite a bit bigger than he expected and so well turned out.

Syldavian soldiers on the march, commemorated in the Basilica of St. George, Douma

Konstantin pointed out a pair of riders descending from the rebel line, one carrying a white flag « They wish to parley ».Jiri walked his horse out in front of his battle line and motioned Konstantin to accompany him. Once clear of his men, Jiri spoke to Konstantin « Son, the moment of decision is upon us. I now know my own mind but you will have to live with today’s consequences for longer than me. So, tell me, what do you think we should do? ». Konstantin’s eyes widened a second but composed his answer rapidly «For the moment, the Bordurians aren’t in control of things in Syldavia and we have a small advantage. I think we should use it while we can. I say we should join the rebellion ». « So be it » said Jiri with a grim smile. « I will go meet these men, out of earshot of the army. I need you to stay here and keep the men calm, there will be a little theatre if all goes well! Speak to no one of Velimir’s plan and get your hands on Dokovic’s lackey Pawel Vitros and his men right away, we don’t need any reports getting back to the Bordurians”. Jiri motioned for two chosen knights to join him, one his bodyguard and one who carried the ducal standard, and spurred his horse out to meet the approaching riders in the middle of the valley.

A question about site formatting

2010-09-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

Hello all,

I recently changed the colour scheme of this site while fiddling about with Blogger's new templates and found that I couldn't replace the original. The white and green replacement was a bit hard on the eyes and uninspiring, so I have switched yet again to another format. If you have any opinions about this one (softer colours but perhaps the text is now harder to read?), please let me know in the poll in the right margin or leave a comment down below.

Thanks!

Jim

A Climactic Meeting with Fate in the Chapel of St. Narcissus

2010-09-29T21:20:00.000-07:00

Taken aback by the black-clad figure approaching him from across the ruined chapel, Duke Jiri finally recognized him, crying “Who?… Why? …Velimir Milutin!”. Jiri was somewhat stunned, as he had not seen Velimir in very many years. Velimir was one of Duchess Franka’s cousins, and he had been a prominent and accomplished young officer in King Wastrelmir’s army that was vanquished by Viceroy Surov. Following that battle, he had been imprisoned and the Viceroy confiscated his baronial domain of Pivow in Wladruja. Finally ransomed by his family, he left Syldavia an exile, gaining service with the Duke of Zadar. That is no coincidence, Velimir surely knows some of these would-be rebels, thought Jiri. Velimir had finally returned having taken Holy Orders as an initiate of the monastic house of St. Stanislaus, one of several socially and politically-prominent men who had became initiates in recent years. And this is no coincidence either – these are the men who the Bordurians are trying to root out of the monasteries. Jiri’s initial surprise at seeing Velimir faded rapidly as he began to calculate the implications of meeting this particular man.

Jiri called out “Should I be surprised to see you of all people here, Lord Velimir? Or should I say “Brother Velimir” these days?”

“Brother” is more than enough dignity for the like of me, a humble and landless man, my Lord”, replied Velimir with the slightest of bows. “And as for surprise, perhaps you should not be, as I have been in pursuit of you for several days now. Forgive my imposition, my lord, it is imperative that I have an audience with you. I bear the greetings of the Abbot of St. Stanislaus’ in Travunje, and have a message from him to deliver to you”.

“You wait for me in a burned-out church merely to give me the good Abbot’s respects? You have something else to speak to me about, don’t you? What is your business?” replied Jiri.

“Yes, my lord, indeed I do. My business - and that of the Abbot - is the same that brings you here to Starisveta. It concerns this uprising and the Bordurians, and your own plans in all of this” said Velimir, suddenly wondering how to sweeten what he had to say.

“Well? Go on then”

“Well, my lord, it is this. The Abbot wishes to ask if you are marching to meet the rebel force”.

“I am in my rights to do so. By their presence and their acts, they have broken the peace of the Duchy. Why is this the concern of the Abbot?” replied Jiri coolly.

“My Lord’ began Velimir, fixing Jiri’s gaze with his own as he spoke and Jiri felt himself being sized up. “I am here in the name of the Abbot to offer you this advice. With all the respect due to your highness, you are embarked on a very dangerous course and the Abbot begs you to reconsider it. First of all, I believe that you are overmatched, my Lord. I have seen these men with my own eyes, there are over 3000 men waiting for you – you marched here with nearly 2000 men I believe”? Jiri flinched at this, the calculation was almost exactly his own count made that morning. We have just arrived at Starisveta, how did Velimir come to have such an accurate count?

“Your approach was well observed my lord, and not just by me. You have mustered a considerable force overnight and that is a credit to the strength of the Duchy, but these rebels are no simple rabble. The majority of them are Syldavians returning from exile, refugees and survivors of the sack of Zadar. There are many experienced warriors and are well armed, my Lord”.

“Hmph…. A lot of crossbowmen among them, I’ll wager” muttered Jiri.

Velimir continued, “Er, yes, there are. In any case, they are also quite homeless now. They have nowhere else to go and will surely sell their lives dearly. You could win a victory here, but it will take a masterstroke worthy of Muskar or Belisarius, as they have the advantage of numbers over you and the ground they defend favours them; they are well settled in on a hilltop with thick woods on the flanks. Loose this battle and you will lose Hum to the Bordurian Governor, who would be only too pleased to pick the over your Duchy’s carcass. Any victory is likely to be bloody and your force will be greatly weakened – and how will you resist the Bordurians then? Or the Venetians? We both know that a conflict with the Bordurians is inevitable. To fight these men here will be a disaster for all of us”.

“Us?”

“Yes, my lord, for you, Hum and for Syldavia. It will also aggrieve the Abbot as he sympathizes with the plight and the cause of these “rebels”. As such, the Abbot wishes you to take them under your protection”.

“He asks what?”

“I beg you to heed me, my lord. You cannot win by fighting here, regardless of the outcome on the field. You can only weaken the Duchy and aid the Bordurians to strengthen their hold on power. The only victory you can achieve is to not fight these men at all. Instead, you should parley with them and hear their case for yourself. They are no threat to you and they have no desire to attack Hum, they are here to overthrow the Bordurian yoke and to regain their lost lands and titles. With your protection, they become your allies and together you will be strong enough to gain the upper hand on the Bordurians”.

“Hmph – if I do so much as leave these men untouched, I make myself a wanted man immediately. It is quite a choice the good Abbot offers me”. replied Jiri.

Velimir answered in a stern voice “Better a man wanted by the Bordurians than one unwanted by his countrymen. You will alienate the Abbot if you attack these men, and the Bordurians will eventually brush you aside if you are weakened by a battle”. Seeing Jiri draw himself up in offended pride at this lecture, Velimir gave a slight rueful smile, saying “It is the days we live in, my Lord. However there is a moment of opportunity open to us, right NOW”. Velimir pounded a gloved fist into his palm to add emphasis. “The Bordurians are weak and distracted for the moment. There are revolts everywhere and they are spreading, not just here but in Klow and in Zympathia and in Travunia. The word has not yet spread here, but just six days ago, the Bordurians tried to break into the St. Stanislaus’ itself, under the Abbot’s nose, and sieze a number of the Brothers, myself among them. We were forewarned and we turned the tables on the Bordurians; we fought them off and the townspeople chased them back into the castle of Travunje. We have them trapped there, both the Governor of Travunia and the major Bordurian force in the province, and they are under siege. The fight against the Bordurians has already begun, my Lord, and the Abbot asks…begs you to join us. Will you bring your men to Travunia and bring the siege to an end?”

Pausing for breath and drawing a step closer to Jiri, Velimir continued determinedly “These men from Zara are a gift from God, with them you have the numbers to tip the balance, clear the Bordurians out of Hum and Travunia and from there…”.

“Velimir, Hum hasn't the treasury to pay all these men” interjected Jiri.

“They do not ask for pay my lord, they want only their lands and titles restored, and to be led to battle against the Bordurians. They only need a leader, my Lord, now in the field and later, to restore the old order”.

“It will be difficult restore what is dead and gone; Muskar’s family is no more, Prince Branislaw is but a rumour”.

“You, my lord, are the one who can lead us”.

“Me? Indeed?” Jiri’s head began to swim at with this unexpected proposition.

“My lord, my crux of the message from the Abbot is this, he will support you in leading the fight against the Bordurians and, with Syldavia reconquered, he will recognize you as King!

“King! What? You offer me the crown? Do you happen to have it in your saddle bag?”

“No, my lord, but I carry this token of the Abbot’s solemn pledge to support you in this war and to pronounce you King once you have won”. Velimir removed a glove and opened his hand to reveal a jewelled gold ring which he place din Jiri’s hand. “It is the Abbot’s ring, he swore upon it and upon the altar of St. Stanislaus to name you king. Syldavia needs a king, and who better than you? Yours is the most powerful and senior of the noble houses remaining from Muskar’s kingdom. And you are related to Muskar though marriage, if I understand correctly…”.

“Well, I’m not sure that will hold up – there was an illegitimate child by a concubine… many Syldavians could claim Muskar as ancestor by the same reckoning…” replied Jiri dismissively but his mind was elsewhere. The leader of a victorious army would in effect be King with or without the Abbot, but this promise would put the Almazouts on the throne officially, with Konstantin King after me, not just a warlord! And it would give me the means to keep Hum secure. Quite a solution – to save Hum, simply become King of Syldavia! Or guarantee the extinction of the family if you fail…”.

Having played all of his cards, Velimir watched Duke Jiri ruminate and then said “What do you say, my Lord? Will you parley with the Rebels?”.

Velimir’s question brought Jiri quickly back to attention. Looking Velimir square in the eye, he replied “Tell your friends to expect my army in battle line before their position this afternoon. I will parley with them there”. Jiri turned, looking for his son, who had withdrawn to the door to let his father speak in private. “Konstantin, my son, a solution presents itself to us. We have much to talk about, you and I. Right away!”

A few minutes later, Jiri saw the distant figure of Velimir speeding away to the west on his horse. Up the hill at the army’s camp, Ritter Pawel Vitros, ever watchful of where Jiri went, saw the dark-clad rider heading away as well.

Jiri marches to Starisveta

2010-09-22T22:10:00.000-07:00

The early morning found Duke Jiri and his commanders before the walls of Douma, marshalling up their little army for the march to Starisveta. The force comprised the town’s garrison and the levy from Douma and the surrounding countryside. Enough newly-called up men were present, sleepy and only a matter of hours from their farms, that the organization of the army proved somewhat chaotic.

It was, however, a clear morning and it promised to be a fine day for marching. The light, still a soft gold after the dawn, glinted on the polished metal in the men’s armour, harness and weapons, and picked out the bits of red cloth (the colour of Hum’s flag) they wore . The army, which was otherwise plain in homespun linen and wool, thereby gained a sparkling, dazzling effect for a moment. Duchess Franka rode out from the town and joined Duke Jiri and her son Konstantin once the troops were finally in order. She carried the standard of the Duchy of Hum in her own hands and rode holding it aloft before handing it to Konstantin. The standard, showing a pair of decrescents, argent, on a field gules, also caught the light, glowing and pulsing as it fluttered at the head of the army. This was not exactly typical behaviour befitting a Duchess but the soldiers were delighted and cheered the gesture. Jiri laughed admiringly at how Franka instinctively found a way to take the lead, and to dispel with a grad gesture the anxious murmurings he heard here and there amongst the men …Are we really going to fight? How many of these rebels are there? When will we come back?..

With a gesture from Duke Jiri, answered by the blast of a horn, the column shuffled into motion. Franka rode with it a hundred metres before said her farewells. She murmered a private word to Jiri and clasped his hand, into which she placed her scarf, as a token. She then led her horse aside and watched in salute as the column passed her by, before returning in the now quiet and empty-feeling town. Jiri recognized the scarf, it was one she had let fall before him in a tournament many years before; he had retrieved it and tied it about his lance, the start of their courtship. He turned in his saddle and tied it to the shaft of his pennon, held by a squire riding behind him.

The army marched through the day, arriving dusty and thirsty in the late afternoon on a broad plateau near the town of Starisveta. They caught up to Stépan Gladic’s force of levy soldiers on a high hilltop just northeast of the town. Having already been there a few hours, Stépan had his men fetch water, start campfires and prepare a simple meal for the Duke’s men. The land sloped away to the southeast, to the sea, from the hilltop. From this vantage point the town of Starisveta was clearly visible, a cluster of red tile roofs nearly a mile away. Also visible was the ruined, roofless and blackened hulk of the St. Narcissus monastery. Smoke still issued from parts of it and its bell tower had partially collapsed, taking on the form of a broken and jagged tooth silhouetted against the sky. Duke Jiri felt cold anger overtake him to see the mess that had been made of the place. As word of the state of the monastery, one of Hum’s most prominent ecclesiastical sites, spread amongst the army, men lamented and spat in their fury, some crying out against the Bordurians. “Vandals! Vagabonds! By St Vladimir!

Stépan Gladic rode up and hailed the Duke “We were not opposed but my scouts have spotted the rebels are only a few miles away. I thought it best to find a position we could defend while we waited for you”. Jiri nodded and gazed moodily once again at the ruin of the monastery. Stépan continued “Why don’t we go get a look at the damage for ourselves while the men take their rest, my Lord? The monks are awaiting your arrival, in fact”.

Jiri agreed and turned his horse to follow the road to the town, with Konstantin and Stépan in tow. A voice edged with anxiety cried out behind them behind them “My lord , where are you going? Should we not continue on to meet the rebels before the light fails? The voice belonged to Pawel Vitros, a Bordurian officer in the command of Baron Dokovic. He had been sent along with a pair of troopers, to observe the progress of the ducal army and to give a personal report of the encounter with the rebels. The Baron had decided to not accompany the Duke’s army himself, in order to oversee the recovery of his wounded men and to prepare for the anticipated arrival of the major Bordurian force. Pawel had reason to be anxious, he was a survivor of the force that had been massacred by the rebels and might well have been one of those who had burned the monastery. He was worried that the sight of the ruined monastery would provoke a negative reaction amongst the soldiers, as was in fact happening.

Glaring at Vitros, Jiri spoke bitterly “Ritter Vitros, I am going to the church while my men take a well-earned rest. It seems appropriate to pray for a victory and for the safety of the men. Perhaps while I am there I should pray for mercy for you and your Baron, who shall one day have to answer to God for the needless destruction of one of His houses…”

Pawel Vitros paled and slunk back speechless through the crowd of ill-tempered soldiers. He set himself up on the edge of the camp with his two underlings but kept his eyes on Jiri and the monastery.

Jiri and Konstantin entered the monastery grounds and saw up close the state of the place. Few buildings still had roofs and many were completely collapsed or were roofless, the chapel included. The air was acrid with smoke which still emanated from buildings and piles of charred wood. A few monks. Their habits filthy with grey ash, worked here and there and animals walked about in groups, having been loosed form their barns before they burned. Jiri was welcomed by a group of monks who had been attempting to bring down at the roof of a half-burnt barn. The aged Abbot came out to greet the Duke and, clasping Jiri’s hands in his own, began a long and disconsolate description of the calamity that had befallen the monastery. He then lead Jiri and Konstantin to the chapel and blessed them, gesturing at the gaping entrance to the roofless sanctuary before turning and withdrawing.

Jiri walked into the chapel, ash swirling around his feet as he avoided piles of spilled roof tile and burned roof beams. At the far end of the chapel, a figure moved. A tall and solid man dressed in a black, travel-stained cloak and hood, seated on a stone pillar base, stood up and hailed Jiri making only the slightest of bows before walking closer. “My lord Duke! Welcome, your highness”. Jiri was taken aback by the man, whose dress resembled that of a monk except for the horseman’s boots he wore, and for his bearing, that of one used to command. Wary, he drew himself up and looked appraisingly at the man, thinking Franka warned me that one who would be an ally would seek me out – could this be him? Having come to within a few yards of Jiri, the man pulled back his hood , revealing close-shorn gray hair and a stern face with chiseled features.

Though it was years since they had last met, Jiri recognised him. “Velimir Milutin! he cried.

Eve of departure

2010-09-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

At the end of a long day organizing the levy soldiers and the wagons and mule trains to support them, Duke Jiri found himself at his table in the Great Hall accepting a silver cup of wine from his wife and then offering a toast to the officers and knights who were to ride with him in the morning. A hearty cheer rising from the throats from the men and women in the hall answered the toast. A second and more jubilant cheer came as a squad of servitors who were sweating from the kitchen’s heat hauled platters of roasted geese in. With appetites honed by the imminent prospect of adventure, comradeship and of an encounter with unknown dangers, the Duke’s guests were in a high mood and so feasted grandly.

Jiri and Franka left as soon as it was seemly to do so and retired to their chambers. There, the two looked out from a window, onto the castle walls, the town and the harbour, which were illuminated by moonlight. Waves rolled and crashed on the sandy shore, where a string of small fishing boats were lied up in an arc, left high and dry by the dropping tide. A larger boat bobbed at anchor beyond the surf. “The wind is changing, perhaps a storm is coming” said Franka. “What will you do, Jiri, will you seek battle?” “I will avoid it if I can. Barring a miracle, we haven’t yet the numbers to fight both the rebels and the Bordurians if it comes to that” said Jiri. “Promise me something, Jiri; if you are offered a chance to parley, will you do it? “Surely I will. I do not intend to a useless battle”.

“And now you must promise me something. If things go badly wrong, you are to take Konstantin and Uros out of here. You see that ship in the water there? Her master is a friend to us, and well paid. He is to wait here while I am gone and be ready to sail with you at a moment’s notice. Take the boys and the treasury, pack what you can into a chest to buy what you need, to buy yourself safety, or an army with which Konstantin can come back to Hum. Go where you can, Sicily or Genoa even. Be careful though, stay away from Venice, we are in enough trouble without having the Venetians holding our family in their hands… We need to have quite a bit of luck on our side, Franka…”

“You will come back Jiri. And I know how we can help our own luck along a little…”.

Stépan Gladic meets the mysterious visitor

2010-09-15T16:47:00.000-07:00

Stépan Gladic roused his troop of young knights in training, nearly three dozen men in all, and set them to work preparing their horses and armour. Those who had made the long and hurried trip back to Douma with Duke Jiri were still tired and stiff, they grumbled to be turned out into the stable yard. Despite the privileged origins of most of this group, Stépan had forbidden them the service of squires until they completed their training. Until that time, they had the rank of common soldiers and they had to work alongside the common men tending the animals and their own kit. Stépan had set a personal example in their training, himself working in the stables and in the mud, training riders, teaching the use of sword and lance, shoeing the horses and seeing to their health. The regular cavalry troopers, mostly an experienced and competent lot who were used to Stépan’s egalitarian leadership, followed his example and looked at the young blue bloods with a mentoring, if sceptical, eye. Stépan managed to forge his polyglot group into a professional and loyal force of cavalry, probably the finest in Syldavia, and had produced a number of sound young officers. Duke Jiri had desperate need of both and so was happy to indulge Stépan’s non-aristocratic vision of command. His efforts were worthwhile, having produced capable and trustworthy officers such as Matija Cjerci, the messenger who had swum the Wladir in the night and evaded patrols to summon Jiri back to Douma. Most of the younger vassal knights living on feudal domains scattered through the Duchy had passed through the same training and they provided a stiff backbone for Hum’s small army.

Hearing the church bells clanging out the noon of the day, Stépan remembered the Duchess’ whispered command to him “…Be at the Market at Noon…”. He gave the troops, suddenly stern-faced, their marching orders and then walked out of the Bailey and down into the town to the market square. He stopped at a brewer’s stand at the edge of the market, where he bought a cup of thin beer and waited, looking over the crowd therein. It was busy with anxious townspeople filling baskets with food and necessities with a sense of anxious urgency. Across the market, beyond the stalls and people milling about, Stépan caught sight of a tall black-cloaked man standing in front of St. Gabriel’s Way, a side street Stépan knew well. The man looked straight at Stépan and touched his brow in salute. He then turned and disappeared into the side street. Stépan muttered to himself Naught but trouble and war awaits you down there, Stépan and then looked sadly up in to the arms of a tall tree in the middle of market. For a moment he watched larks flitting about the branches there and listened to their song. He was jarred back to reality by two loud oafs beside him at the brewer’s stand who, besotted despite the early hour, loudly speculated about the disposition of the rebels and of the intentions of both the Bordurians and of Duke Jiri. Stépan took a last sip of his tepid beer, put down his cup and headed off down St. Gabriel’s Way after the black-clad man.

Stépan quickly left the commotion of the market behind as he followed the twisting course of the ancient and narrow lane. Looking down the road and into courtyard gates, he saw no one except a few children and stay dogs. Finally, rounding a curve, Stépan finally came upon a place where the road widened and there was the black-clad man, tending the harness of a horse tied to a fence post. His cloak, tattered and made of plain cloth, was stained with road dust; the chape of a scabbard poked out from its dirty hem. His leather boots were considerably finer work. The horse was a powerful and well-made beast, dark charcoal in colour and as dusty as his master.

At Stépan’s approach, the man looked up. “Blessings upon you, Stépan Gladic”, ” he said quietly. He narrowed his eyes a little as he spoke, the affectation gave him a distinctly appraising look.

“And upon you. I have been half-expecting to see you turn up for some time now” replied Stépan. The tone of both was formal and a little chilly.

“Ha! Have you now? Well, I have been all over Hell’s half-acre for days on end now, looking for you, and your blessed Duke! I just missed you at Djordjevaro, you dropped quite out of sight after that…”.

“So much the better. We were trying to avoid being seen” said Stépan.

“Duke Jiri the hunter found himself the hunted, eh? He didn’t expect that, no doubt … Well, you did well to stay out of sight, I wager that the Governor would have found an excuse to keep you as guests if you had passed by Djordjevaro. I dared put my foot no further into that trap”.

Stépan remembered but did not mention the measures they had taken to remain out of sight, just two days ago .

The visitor continued “So, my good Stépan, what do have you to tell me, what are the Duke’s plans?

“We are to muster all available men immediately and march for Starisveta. The Duke leaves tommorow”

The visitor sighed. “Hmph… The Duke means to smash the rebel force?”

“He means to disperse them at least. It is his Duchy, would you expect less of him? The Bordurians are pressuring him to intervene”, said Stépan.

The visitor replied : “Of course they are. Look, I must speak in private with the Duke as soon as possible …”

Sépan interjected “Here? Now? Is that wise? My orders are to leave at once and the Duke is with his men, very much in sight… Besides, with that Baron Dokovic here, there must be spies as well”.

The visitor thought a moment. “No, you are right. It would be better to meet when he is out of Douma. I shall wait for him at the monastery of St. Narcissus at Starisveta, what is left of it. Can you bring him there? It is vital…”.

“Yes, this can be done” replied Stépan.

“Good, I will leave immediately” said the visitor, unhitching his horse. “You will not be molested at Starisveta so long as you do not attack. Good luck to you Stépan and godspeed. We shall meet again ar Starisveta.

“Good luck to us all, my lord” said Stépan

Mounting quickly, the man went off down the street in a clatter of hooves, nearly running over a beggar. And then he was gone.

An hour later Stépan was himself on the road to Zilusi with his troop of knights in training and a short wagon train of supplies.

The council hears Jiri's plan

2010-09-07T04:00:00.000-07:00

Duke Jiri looked over his group of officers, gathered together on the highest battlements at Douma. He had their rapt attention. His just issued words “prepare…threat…Borduria” hung pregnant in the air and in the minds of the officers and all went still. Jiri steeled himself and continued. “I have called you up here so that we may speak in privacy a few minutes and not be disturbed by Baron Dokovic or some agent of his. All that I say is in the strictest confidence.”

“The Bordurians are overextended and vulnerable and have been since the Venetians and their

Crusade arrived in our lands. Our “friends” the Venetians have managed to convince the Bulgars to join their expedition against the Byzantines and so Viceroy Surov has had to raise both troops and treasure for his Bulgar overlords, even as he looses Ragusia to his supposed allies. One could almost feel sorry for him! Sorov has stripped inner Syldavia and Borduria of men and is raising new taxes. He must be gambling on a quick success, as he is now weak at home and in Syldavia, and almost all of Syldavia is rife with discontent”.

“The tinder for a revolt in Syldavia was simply awaiting a spark, so Surov’s attack on the monasteries is just that. It only makes sense if he sees that his power is slipping. I think that he is attempting to forestall a real conspiracy and has reason to believe that the monasteries are at the heart of it”. Franka pursed her lips as she listened to Jiri and quickly glanced over at Stépan, who, poker-faced, was studiously regarding the floor at his feet.

Jiri went on “ My agents report that the Viceroy has been concentrating his remaining forces in strategic places – Djordjevaro is the one that concerns us – from which he would be able to move against any threats or conduct offensives. Normally, I’d say that weakness among the Bordurians would be a good thing for us, but this is in fact quite dangerous. They getting desperate and they are capable of anything at the moment. The Governor is even more dangerous; he was always rash and a slave to ambition and now he is left to his own devices while the Viceroy is away on campaign. We must assume that he will act opportunistically to exploit any weakness or sign of rebellion amongst us to consolidate his power. With the Viceroy far away and an excuse in hand, he could try to scoop up Hum as a fait accompli…”.

“Why no”! Cried out young Dmitri Vajzek.

“Well, if we are clever, perhaps we can stop this from happening. These rebels managed to catch the Bordurians by surprise and would have wiped out Baron Dokovic and his men if they had possessed enough horsemen. They are no doubt better prepared than we are to fight at the moment; they are at least disciplined and experienced soldiers, as well as our countrymen. Some will know the terrain. However, this morning that worm Dokovic relayed an order from his masters that we are to take the field and put an end to the uprising as soon as possible. The Bordurians, or Governor Nikolic at least, will surely see any failure on our part to end the rebellion as a justification to intervene and move his army into Hum”.

My agents say that Surov has amassed a little over 3000 men at Djordjevaro and has some more yet on the way. That force is dagger pointed at me and it is bigger than the largest force I can put into the field save with all of Hum’s levy behind me, and such a force would include too many untrained peasants to be really effective. It is quite possible for the Viceroy to overwhelm us once has recovered his balance. That would be end of the Duchy and of my family, and most likely the end of all of yours as well”. The group around Jiri blanched and tensed at this declaration. ”It wouldn’t surprise me if this whole rebellion business was a part of some vile plan by the governor to extend his power. Imagine a Baron Dokovic installed here in Douma!" Jiri, like a good Duke, was deliberately nudging his officers into a warlike mood and was grimly pleased to see outrage and anger on his officer’s faces as he sketched out a possible future to them. “By St. Vladimir and upon my honour, this won’t be allowed to happen!” cried out Lord Teodor.

Jiri continued “No, indeed not. So, we have no choice really. We have to muster all available troops and move immediately to face down the rebels before the Governor, or the Viceroy himself, moves to exert personal control. While we are moving, we must also be ready to deter any move the Bordurians might make to enter Hum in force. My friends, I have come to believe that a fight with the Bordurians is inevitable and we must prepare ourselves for it. We can’t leave a revolt to fester or fight two enemies at once, one always behind out backs. We will face the smaller problem – the rebels – first, and then turn to face the Bordurians if the Governor dares to move while we are outside the walls of Douma”.

“Lord Teodor, have you any news of a force moving down the Wladir from Djordjevaro ? Dokovic hinted at such”. Clearing his throat, beefy Lord Teodor replied “No my lord, our scouts have reported only more frequent and larger patrols. I stepped up our own patrols all this week to keep an eye out for your return from Sokolbrevo, they would have reported any force moving south. However, I don’t know how you got by my men without being noticed, my Lord. Perhaps my soldiers are not up to their duties…”.

“No, Teodor, we followed a different route coming south in order to stay out of sight, and a good thing we did. But this is good news, it means we have a little more time. And, my Lord Drogo, do you have any news of the rebels? Where are they now, how many are they?”

“Ah my lord, it is your son, young lord Constantin, who should report, he undertook the last patrols in that direction”

“Oh, yes? Well, what is your report Lord Constantin ?” asked Jiri, swelling a little with fatherly pride. Konstantin, somewhat nervously, replied “My lord, I have made two patrols with a troop of chosen horsemen. The first time, the day after the Bordurians arrived here with their wounded, we sighted a large force of infantry a little over a dozen miles west of Starisveta. They must have remained close to their battlefield expecting the arrival of a second Bordurian force. There was easily over a thousand men there, perhaps more were hidden in the woods. Starisveta was burning, Father, the monastery was almost all gone. The locals said that is was Baron Dokovic who ordered it burnt during his retreat from the battle ." " St. Vladimir's beard! The vandals! " Jiri exclaimed, aghast and fuming. Konstantin continued; «Yesterday, we spotted a cavalry patrol just a few miles west of Starisveta and so we kept our distance. It looked like the rebels had advanced and moved camp. We could see the smoke from many campfires»

" Many fires ? Enough for a thousand men or more?"

" Oh yes, there were dozens of fires so I should think so. The monks in Starisveta told us that some rebels came to them and said that they meant them no harm. And they invited any of the townspeople to join them. These men apparently spoke in the accents of Hum, Klow and Travunia and Moltuja German. We also saw a steady trickle of men, alone and in groups, heading west towards Starivseta, They looked like peasants for the most part but I imagine that they were intending to join the rebels. Their numbers are growing by the day".

"Hmm… Men from all over Syldavia… I need to see them for myself, and as soon as possible " muttered Jiri. "Stépan, Drogo, we need to raise the levy immediately. We will need at least a thousand men right away in addition to the regular soldiers in Douma to meet this group on equal terms and at least two thousand to cow them. We won’t have time to collect more than the local levy from the lower Wladir valley and the coast. Perhaps we can find one thousand… ".

Drogo moved to speak but Constantin cut in first "Forgive me father, but Lord Drogo and I… in your absence we took the liberty to call up the levy around Douma".

Drogo continued « Yes my lord, once we learned about the presence of the rebels and the Bordurians, we thought it best to gather up the your vassal knights and the most capable local men from around the Wladir valley in case we needed to protect Douma. As well, the Bordurians were demanding that the levy be called up and placed under their command. So, we began to muster the levy from the countryside north of Douma as quietly as possible, to keep them out of the sight and control of Baron Dokovic. Douma’s levy is still here. About 800 men have assembled at the village of Zilusi, north of here. It is in the woods off the Roman road and easily overlooked… ".

Jiri broke in "easily overlooked but still well-placed to strike at Starisveta or cut off the Djordjevaro road or relieve Douma if need be. Well done, and my thanks! This was an admirable bit of foresight. With them we shall indeed march with enough men".

"It was in fact Lord Konstantin’s idea, my lord" said Lord Drogo.

"Was it now? Well, you have profited then from your lessons with old Drogo, lad! So, speed is now of the essence. I wish to march tomorrow to face the rebels, win a rapid conclusion and return before the governor is too tempted by an empty castle. Here is my plan: Stépan, you will ride this afternoon to Zilusi to take command of the levy there. Take your troop of young knights with you. March on to Starisveta tomorrow and wait for me on the plain east of the town”.

“Lord Drogo, we will need to turn out the Douma garrison and town’s levy and prepare it to move. I will march with the bulk of it at dawn tomorrow; 600 foot, 200 crossbowmen and 250 horsemen and meet Stépan. That will give us a force of nearly 2000 men before Starisveta, with nearly all of our regulars ”.

"Lord Drogo, you are to ready Douma’s fortifications for a siege as best you can and organize the muster of the rest of the general levy here. I will leave you 100 footmen and 100 crossbows to garrison the town until we return. Enough to keep the town’s door shut. Lord Teodor, you are to organize the levy around Rivajow and the land to the west; these men you will use to garrison Rivajow and hold up the passage of the governor’s army, if he dares to move south. Baron Dimitri, you are to muster the levy east of the Wladir, these troops are to go to the bridge over the Wladir at Kripat and be ready to move to Rivajow or Douma at my orders. “Konstantin, you are to come with me, you shall guide me to these rebels yourself. And that is the sound of Baron Dokovic’s voice down in the courtyard, we finish just in time! I’ll tell him that we shall head out tomorrow. That is all, to work my lords! Lord Drogo, let us inspect the walls together”.

Dismissed, the group quickly dispersed. Passing by Stépan, Duchess Franka whispered “We have a visitor. He wishes to meet you. Be at the market at noon”.

Jiri calls a Council of War

2010-09-05T08:08:00.000-07:00

Hello all,

I have neglected this blog quite a bit this summer, having been on the road almost continually - I'm just back from yet another trip, this time to Paris! More on that later, suffice to say I spent all the time I could in some excellent museums (when I wasn't sipping champagne on the terrace, of course).

When last I wrote, Duke Jiri had just returned from an eventful hunting trip to his stronghold in the town of Douma. During this trip he learned that there was a popular uprising in his Duchy and that the agents of Hum's Bordurian overlord, the Viceroy Surov, were working in various ways to impose direct Bordurian rule on his Duchy. After vacillating like a Syldavian Hamlet, Duke Jiri has decided on a course of action... I have written a new bit for the story of Duke Jiri (just read on below). I have also prepared a little map of the Duchy of Hum, western Syldavia where I have sketched out the route of Jiri's recent travels and added some place names which have and will feature in the story.

A Map of the western part of Duchy of Hum and the valley of the Wladir River.

The route of Duke Jiri's recent trip north to his hunting estate at Sokolbredo and of his precipitous return south to Douma are marked by solid red lines and arrows. The number 1 indicates the location where Dragan the huntsman ambushed the Bulgar patrol, 2 indicates the shepherd's cabin where Jiri and his company spent the night and 3 indicates the location of the averted skirmish with the rebel party. The main rebel army is located northwest of Starisveta and is heading slowly toward Douma. The frontier of Hum is marked by a thick, red hatched line.

Duke Jiri Calls a Council of War

Knowing that Duke Jiri would be seeking to hold a meeting with his senior officers, Duchess Franka hurried from her secretive meeting to deliver her load of bandage cloth to the temporary hospital she had organized. She gave the place a quick and approving inspection as the nuns had worked unstintingly to sweep and scrub clean the old barracks, used more recently used as a hay barn and storehouse. Taking Franka in tow, the dour Abbess made a rapid tour of the wounded troops who lay listlessly upon piles of bundled straw and cots. The Abbess then led Franka outside where she gave a curt whispered report. "Duchess, the men you just saw are those with minor wounds, there are twenty eight of them. Fourteen more are seriously wounded. Half of these look very grave and we will likely see several succumb by tomorrow. Also, corruption has set in the wounds of some of the men. Poultices and the new bandages will help but we will need many more yet or others will perish entirely without need, even some of those with minor wounds". "You shall have them, Abbess, and whatever else you need. Perhaps it is best to plan on keeping this hospital open indefinitely. Can you provide me a list of what you will need?"

Back within the Keep, Franka searched out the Duke. She found him on the sun-drenched battlements, where he was assembling some of his most trusted officers at a table set up in the shade of a canopy. The battlements offered a sweeping view of the Wladir river valley to the north and east, the Adriatic to the southwest and, to the northwest, a range of low craggy mountains leading to Hum’s frontier. Jiri was gazing intently off to the north. Jiri had a calculating and decisive air about him and Franka sensed that his confidence had begun to return.

Among those with Jiri were Lord Drogo, Stépan Gladic, Lord Teodor Krevelic and Jiri and Franka’s sons Konstantin and Uros. Stépan was Jiri’s chief lieutenant and was nearly of the same age as the Duke. A terse, observant and practical man, Stépan was the son of a Travunian noble who had fled after the Bordurian conquest, first into service with the Duke of Zadar and finally with Jiri’s uncle; he was also Jiri’s distant cousin. Stépan had earned Jiri’s confidence trust many times during a long career spent in the saddle and training and leading men in the interminable petite guerre of the frontiers. Lord Drogo was fully eighteen years older than Jiri and a life-long retainer of Jiri’s family. The son of a minor knight, Drogo made a rapid rise as a skilled soldier and enterprising field commander, but was finally lamed by serious wound which prevented him from mounting a horse. He nevertheless continued to rise in the old Duke’s favour because of his capacity to train soldiers and his intelligence (notably, he was highly literate). He had tutored the young Jiri in the skills of a soldier and commander. Once he became Duke, Jiri rewarded his teacher with a profitable fiefdom and the position of Castellan of Douma, de facto Governor of the Duke’s stronghold and base of power. Lord Teodor Krevelic was Baron of Rivajow, a key town and fort north of Douma, on the edge of the territory administered by the Governor of Djordjevaro. Lord Theodor’s family were long-time members of the ducal household and his estates would be the first to see Bordurian troops if the Governor ever decided make his presence felt within the Duke’s domain.

Hastening up the stair after Franka and arriving out of breath was Baron Dmitri Vajzek. He was a young and inexperienced soldier but diligent in his duties and devoted to the Duke. He was lord of the town of Brevelno, a town along the Wladir River north of Douma, in the heart of Hum’s farming heartland. The region was a traditional bastion of support for the Duke’s family, young Dimitri already had a reputation as the dashing darling of the region.

“Ah, Franka, you are just in time. And Dmitri, my thanks for hastening to answer my summons” said Jiri, nodding at the young man, who had ridden hard from his estate a few leagues away to attend. “Welcome back, liege” breathed Dimitri, “We rejoice that you are back and at our head. We sorely missed you this last week with all the trouble that broke out”.

“I chose an unlucky week for a hunting trip, that it sure. I saw and learned much on the trip however, and just in time too. We are in danger and were barely aware of it until now”. Jiri addressed the group “My Lords, I’ve called you here because it is clear to me that this uprising that greeted the Bordurians is about to plunge us all into a crisis. The goals of this revolt are still unclear to me but I am confident that there is more to this than the Bordurian’s clumsy move against the monasteries. It was surely organized in advance. In any case, any uprising is a necessarily a challenge to my rule one way or another and I must act to end it quickly”. The officers shifted uneasily at Jiri’s words. He continued “And, at the same time, we must prepare ourselves for an even greater threat which I believe will come from the Bordurians themselves. We are between the hammer and the anvil and we have no friends who can help us, but we are not entirely without room to move”.

To be continued monday!

More summer travels and some Old School discoveries

2010-08-19T20:57:00.000-07:00

I'm back again from a another extended trip, this time it was for a couple of weeks in a remote part of northern Canada. Lots of rock, bears, bugs, mountains and tricky seas. Luckily for me, the latter were calm on the day this photo was taken.

On the way back home I visited my grandparent's old home in Nova Scotia, where I used to spend my summers as a boy. I remembered to look into a particular closet which used to be an Aladdin's cave of vintage toys. There, I found packed away in a box some familiar treasures, some of my uncle's old tin soldiers. They were all well-used and well-loved by him, my brothers and I! They were probably the first toy soldiers I ever saw or played with. Some were a bit damaged (sad to say now but somehow it is hard to regret) from all that enthusiastic use but I took some pictures of those veterans which are still in good shape. No doubt some of you will recognize them...

The soldiers were fairly large, about 3 1/2 inches or so tall. I left them behind, but maybe I should have recruited them to defend Syldavia from an imminent Bordurian attack. I am particularly fond of the motorcycle but the AA gunner looks like he means business!

The Duchess in Play

2010-07-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

Almost immediately upon his return to Douma and to his Keep, Duke Jiri found himself ushered, by his wife Franka, up the Keep’s great stair to the Great Hall and into an unexpected encounter with Baron Dokovic, the interloping agent of the Bordurian governor at Djordjevaro. Having first stirred up the rebellion in Hum and then having been defeated by the rebels, the Baron was sullenly scheming up ways to save his own hide and to appropriate Hum’s small military (and perhaps parts of Hum itself) for himself. « That is a most unpleasant welcome for Jiri » thought Franka ,“But only the Duke’s presence will make a real effect on Dokovic. He is dangerous and I am running out of tricks to distract him ». Franka descended the great stair of the keep and opened the door to an adjacent storeroom, where she began sorting through a chest full of linens, putting the older ones into a basket on the floor. As she worked, she could hear the faint murmurs of the conversation between the Duke and the Baron drift down from the Great Hall. The exchange quickly grew louder and more heated and the two voices echoed off the masonry walls. The Duchess winced, feeling her husband’s obvious sense of frustration at feeling trapped. Soon afterward, she could hear the approaching sound of the Baron’s boots as he stomped out of the Great Hall and down the stairs. She stood in the shadowy door of the storeroom and watched him descend, grimacing tensely and muttering to himself. Then, as if he was unconsciously aware of being observed, he smoothed out his tunic and hair and straightened up. Looking around the dark entry hall, the Baron finally spotted Franka and his expression transformed quickly from vulnerable surprise to a cold and oily smile though which he presented no pleasure, only predatory teeth.

« Ah, good day to you, your highness. Are you searching for vermin? I was certain I spotted a few in the Hall the last few days…”. Angry after meeting with Duke Jiri, the Baron pleased himself by baiting Duchess Franka. «Hmphf. I am, in fact, making more bandages for your poor soldiers, Baron. Someone has to look after them. I come to believe, finally, that it was a good thing that your troop was as small as you say; we would surely be out of cloth had you a real army” replied Franka, effectively inflaming the Baron’s anger. Unable to restrain himself, the Baron coldly and quickly retorted “A word of advice Duchess, you might well set the women of the market to weaving. I suspect that Hum will soon need many more bandages”. The Baron fixed the Duchess with a cold stare then turned and stalked out of the Keep wearing a little smirk. The Duchess defiantly returned his stare with one of her own, then gathered up her basket and she walked out the Keep’s door as well.

Having sauntered through the gate of the inner Bailey, and past a pair of guards who regarded him skeptically, Baron Dokovic veered to head toward a ragged beggar waiting at the roadside. The beggar looked up at him expectantly. The Baron glanced somewhat furtively behind himself, seeing the guards still watching and a hundred paces away, Duchess Franka was walking quickly and determinedly toward the gatehouse, still carrying her basket of cloth. “That is curious… the wounded troops are in an old barracks hall in the inner bailey. The Baron reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a few copper coins, exclaiming loudly, “Here is a little charity from the Viceroy Surov, for the poor of Douma”. “God save the Viceroy and you gentle lord!” declared the beggar, who had dropped to the ground, a little dismayed, to collect the coins after the Baron dropped them into the dust before him. Quickly, sotto voce, the Baron murmured to the beggar “Well done, Tebor, you are looking even more wretched than usual, I almost didn’t know that it was you. Listen, have any of the Duke’s officers left the keep yet this morning? No? Allright. That witch of a Duchess is about to pass through the gate. I want you to follow her, keep her in sight at all times, find out where she is going and who she talks to. Don’t let yourself be seen and report back to me at the usual place this afternoon. Keep up the good work and I’ll see what I can do to get your sentence remitted”. “Thank you my lord” replied the erstwhile beggar, clutching the coins, followed by “as you wish, liege”. Once the Baron had departed,Tebor, one-time merchant, convicted smuggler and now Bordurian spy, muttered “what a bast___”, and eyed up his approaching quarry, the Duchess .

The Duchess walked through the market, stopping to purchase cheap cloth and arranging for the delivery of other useful supplies, such as strong spirits and soap, for the makeshift hospital in which she had installed the wounded Bordurian soldiers under the care of nuns. While there, she took time to test of the townspeople and reassure them about the rumours of rebels and Bordurians which were now rife in the town. Then, while returning to the keep, she stepped into a small chapel which was empty except for a single person, who sat up and then closed the chapel door. The person, a well-built man in travel-stained black cloak, pulled back a hood to reveal the face of an aging but strong man looking both tired and serious. He reached out to take the Duchess’ hand then knelt to kiss her ring. “Welcome cousin” he said to Franka. “And welcome to you, cousin; I received your message as the Duke arrived this morning” she replied with a sigh and a faint rueful smile. “You have come in the middle of trouble but perhaps just in time…”

Back in the saddle...

2010-07-01T07:29:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

I am now back at home for a bit, having just finished a short field trip to Iceland, one of my favourite places for visiting and working. I spent most of my time surveying old abandoned farms such as the one more or less visible at right in the picture below, which dates back at least to the 13th century. It was great fun and very productive and, as you can see, Iceland's landscape certainly loves a camera lens. I'm a bit sad to be home! It is our national holiday here in Canada today, so I am home taking care of the odds and ends of tasks and chores I left trailing when I departed. Two of these (and the most fun) will be to work up some new terrain boards and restart the Syldavia story, where Duke Jiri, caught between the hammer and the anvil (rebels and the Bordurians) must finally make a move. Check back later today.

Thanks for looking in!

He's not dead, he's just resting...

2010-05-09T16:37:00.001-07:00

Hi all,

I'm in the middle of a very busy patch with lots of writing deadlines, marking and some time on the road. I'll get back to Duke Jiri and the dastardly Bordurians as soon as I can, but it is going to be tough to make much progress in the next week.

All the best

Jim

The good professor's dream turns unpleasant: Duke Jiri's meets the Baron

2010-04-18T21:22:00.000-07:00

Baron Javor Dokovic, a well-dressed and well-built man in his thirties with carefully-tended good looks betraying a certain vanity, black hair and a close-cropped black beard, lolled in his chair in the Duke’s hall in Douma. It was the largest chair at a table set up in front of the hall’s great hearth and the Baron had come to find it quite a comfortable place since he had installed himself in the hall two days earlier. To his right, at the far end of the hall, stood the empty Ducal throne on a low dias. It was an ornate, Roman-style affair carved with the forms of animals and gazing at it had started Dokovic thinking, as would any man of similar ambition. However, the stress of his present situation was hard to ignore. The Baron looked down at the table in front of him and toyed with a plate of fruit and sipped from a cup of watered wine while he reflected on the last few days and those just ahead. He was, in fact, in a pickle. He had been sent by his superior, Count Branko Nikolic governor of Djordjevaro, with 150 soldiers to scour the duchy of Hum of conspirators plotting against the Bordurian regime. These orders came ultimately from the Viceroy himself. The Monastery of St. Narcissus in Starisveta, like many others in Syldavia, was believed to be a nest of plotters loyal to the old kingdom. Javor’s orders were to enter the monastery, determine which “brothers” were members of old noble families and arrest them. This the Baron had done; he had arrived at Starisveta at the head of fifty soldiers, put his hands on all of six likely suspects and, well, if a few heads were broken along the way, how better to send a message? Having cowed the town, the Baron and his troop marched away without further ado. So far so good, but things went awry from that point on.

Only a day later, news came of a sudden uprising west of Starisveta along with disturbing tales of Bordurian officials having been taken seized. Dokovic sent his prisoners on to Djordjevaro, gathered up all of his troops and marched back to Starisveta, where he stopped to obtain information about the rebels and their location, and then they continued westward. This territory was unfamiliar to the Baron and the guides he conscripted in Starisveta must have been conspirators as well, for he walked straight into an ambush. The Baron’s small force was confronted with a much larger body of troops and, dissolving quickly into panic and disorder, they fared very poorly. He lost essentially all of his infantry in a few minutes. The Baron beat a hasty retreat with his cavalry and a few infantrymen who were lucky enough to have been picked up by the riders; he had now perhaps seventy men, with many now injured. Fortunately for him, most of the rebel force was composed of infantry and missle troops who could not close on the Bordurian cavalry. Dokovic and his horsemen got away without much pursuit. Dokovic paused once again at Starisveta to regain his breath and, hoping to rekindle the spirit of his shaken troops, he ordered them to burn the St. Narcissus monastery in revenge. This gesture seems to have failed however as many of his soldiers grew even more fearful of reprisals and others seem to have gained a thirst for pillaging…

The Baron and his men were wary of potential enemies everywhere they went in and everyone they met. Arriving, spent and fearful, before the gates of Douma, the Baron had menaced and coaxed his way in. His men were now recovering their spirits in seclusion and in relative safety and the wounded were being treated. Soon, reinforcements from Djordjevaro were likely to arrive. The Baron and his men would be safe at that point but there would also be a second commander in the picture as well, no doubt that upstart Luben Jurvec. But how to master the situation before the reinforcements arrive? If I could get control of some of Hum’s forces, that could be enough, even just of the levy... It is pretty much an emergency anyhow, the levy ought to be raised and in the absence of the Duke (ha! what luck!), who better than me to command them?

The Baron had indeed tried to put his hands on a force of levy soldiers arguing that he was acting in the name of the duchy’s ultimate liege lord but he had been met with resistance so far. That Castellan Drogo was a stubborn man who offered legal justifications for any and all of the arguments the Baron mounted to take control of Hum’s forces. His argument was mostly brute intimidation, but it was hard to intimidate with his battered force now more or less in the shelter of the Duke’s household. The previous evening Dokovic had tried as well to bluff and cajole the Duchess into seeing that the levy was called up, but the formal supper had turned into a long blurry night full of cups of wine, and his head was still a bit foggy because of it. The simpler plan would be to find evidence of complicity in the uprising here in the Duke’s household. With such evidence, the Duke’s authority could be officially expunged and the door would then be open for all sorts of opportunities, a new Count of Douma, at least... That Duchess Franka is thoroughly charming but a clever and wicked creature muttered the Baron to himself while feeling his pulse thudding away in his forehead. It would not surprise me in the least to learn that she was somehow involved in this uprising. It was at this point that Baron Javor Dokovic’s thoughts were interrupted by the doors of the Hall suddenly swinging wide open and striking against the stone walls. He started and winced, and while he looked up, he was hailed in a loud voice crackling with displeasure:

“BARON! To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your presence in my Keep?”

It was Duke Jiri striding straight for him, still wearing his spurs, which clattered and scraped on the stone floor. Baron Dokovic froze a moment “Duke… Duke Almazout … you can’t be… you were hunting in the north…”.

“Yes, it is indeed me, I am back now, and sooner than you thought, eh?” came Jiri’s icy reply. “Not a moment too soon at any rate. I am gone but a week and what happens? The Governor’s agents are raiding monasteries and setting off a rebellion in my home counties. Hum was quiet when I left but you have managed to tip it straight into chaos. What have you been up to? Surely these were not your orders?” Jiri’s frustration was finally getting the better of him.

Baron Dokovic, now on his feet and feeling his own temper rising, tried to mount a response saying, with brittleness “I am acting on the orders of the Governor and of the Viceroy. Hum is home to a network of conspiracy, it is my job to expose the plotters and root them out, and that is what I have done”. After a moment Dokovic added, insinuatingly: “Going into the monastery was a regrettable necessity, but it was something that might have been avoided if the present authorities in Hum had kept a better eye on its affairs instead of lavishing its time on deer and ducks…”.

Deer and ducks ? What incredible impertinence! Jiri fought to retain his cool “Exposing the rebels ? By what I have seen, it seems that they are happy to oblige you, having come out and attacked you in the light of day. You have clearly succeeded! And yet here you are, passing the day in my Hall with your force broken, while the rebels grow in strength daily. I am not impressed by your work so far!”

Baron Dokovic replied “The Governor requires that you aid in suppressing this revolt, nurtured in your Duchy. It cannot spread elsewhere. I will require, to begin with, the levy to be called up immediately. I will take command of them and then…

“You will do no such thing” Jiri snapped back. “I remind you that you are in the territory of Hum and I am lord here. The Governor is the Viceroy’s man and you are the Governor's man, but the Governor has no authority to call up the levy in my fiefdom, only in his own. Here, in the south of Hum, that right belongs to me and to the Viceroy. The levy must, in any case, fight under MY command, that is the law".

Rebuffed, the Baron resorted to his final argument, saying “To make myself clear, my lord, you remain in your fiefdom at the sufferance of the Viceroy. The Viceroy requires your diligence in the suppression of this revolt. You will therefore lead your troops against the rebels as soon as possible”. Seeing that these words had a sudden sobering effect on the Duke and, thinking quickly on his feet, the Baron quickly added “You are of course to lead your troops in the field. I am to coordinate your activities with those of the Governor…”.

Grinding his teeth, the Duke growled “I don't need supervision and you haven’t enough force to hold Hum without me. I shall meet the rebels with my men and see for myself what they are made of. I do not underestimate them and I won’t be running home with my tail between my legs”.

“So be it” said Baron Dokovic, icily. “I remind you, the Viceroy requires a victory and an end to the rebellion. I shall take my leave of you then, my lord Duke”.

Left alone in the hall, and overcome with frustration, Jiri took up the chair that the slippery Baron had been sitting in, his own banqueting chair, and struck it against the floor with all his force. The chair splintered with a resounding crack and fell into pieces. Jiri tossed the broken wood he held in his hands into the fireplace beside him and then stormed out of the room.

A quick reunion for Duke Jiri at Douma

2010-04-14T20:44:00.000-07:00

So, I'm back after a short absence. I've had two weeks of deadlines and there are a few more such weeks in the offing, with the end of the semester, exams and marking upon us. I'm sorry that the blog has suffered from a inattention during this time but I see that people have been dropping in nevertheless, no doubt searching in vain for signs of life! Many thanks for your patience and interest.

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Lord Drogo, the Castellan of Douma, anxiously paced the town’s walls early in the morning, fixing his eyes on the point on the horizon where the road north to Djordjevaro disappeared over a hillside. He saw no one. Four full nights had passed since he had sent young Matija as a messenger to bring Duke Jiri home from his hunting trip. If all went as well as it possibly could, meaning neither Matija or the Duke were delayed by the Bordurians or by anything else, the Duke might arrive at any time now and none too soon. Since Matija’s hasty departure, the situation in Hum had steadily deteriorated. The rebellion appeared to be spreading and the captain of the small Bordurian force in southern Hum had proved to be headstrong and rash man. His incursion into the St. Narcissus monastery had sparked the uprising and he had subsequently attempted a premature strike against the rebels, only to have suffered a crippling defeat from which he limped back to Douma seeking succor. There were rumours of plots everywhere and now there was talk of a second Bordurian force marching south. Lord Drogo rubbed agitatedly at his greying beard; No sign of the Duke yet, but at least there is yet no sign of any more Bordurians either.

At mid-morning, Drogo walked again on the battlements and gazed northward. He saw no one, not even the donkeys and carts of merchants and farmers on their normal comings and goings. The countryside, like the town, was tense with expectation of coming trouble and most people were staying close to home. Late in the morning, a young and sharp-eyed soldier who Drogo had selected as a watchman rapped on the door of the Castellan’s chambers: “My lord, you ordered me to report anything of note. A group of horsemen has crested the hill and is approaching the town. Less than a dozen men, armed with lances”. Drogo, in the middle of drafting a letter, threw down his inked quill and hastened to the ramparts with the young soldier in tow. “Yes, I can see them too” he said. The horsemen were descending the hill when the soldier exclaimed “My lord, I think I see a pennon, a red and white pennon”. The young man looked back toward Drogo, proud to be able to confirm that which his chief had been so clearly eager to see. “That will be the Duke then, by St. Vladimir! Ha Ha!” Drogo slapped the rock of the parapet in excitation and could not help breathing out a sigh of relief as he felt some of his pent-up tension lifted away. “I’m off to the gatehouse. You are to go immediately to inform the Duchess. And be quiet about this – speak only to her and do not let this news reach our… guest…” Drogo arched his woolly eyebrows meaningfully at the soldier then he turned and trundled off quickly. The youthful soldier watched Drogo hasten away despite his awkward gait, the result of a slight limp (an old wound) and his portly frame. Lord Drogo was normally a stolid and hard man, so the sight him so clearly rejoicing relieved the tension of the day.

A few minutes later, Drogo could clearly see the ducal pennon fluttering in the breeze. Duke Jiri was in the lead, riding smartly along on that wicked horse of his, then Stépan and finally the squad of knights behind. The Duke made haste indeed, he left half of his party behind, including his fancy cook! Drogo waited a few minutes more and then ordered the soldiers of the watch to lift the portcullis.

Jiri looked up at the battlements ahead and spotted the heads of soldiers peeking out from between embrasures here and there. There was the familiar mass of Drogo, now doffing his cap. Jiri raised his hand in salute and the gesture was returned by a cheer from the men on the wall. Then, passing through the gate, Jiri and his company were suddenly in the winding streets of the old town, confined by two and three story houses half-timbered and built of stone. There were relatively few people in the streets, but those that were there quickly made space for the horsemen. Stépan, somewhat amused, noticed that despite the long few days in the saddle, Duke Jiri suddenly had sat bolt upright in his saddle and had his beast of a horse prancing when they had encountered the townspeople. He cuts a heroic pose when he wishes to, the Duke! Stépan also noticed how the townspeople were looking up at Jiri with faces full of apprehension and expectation as he cantered by. Stépan turned to look behind him, only to see the young knights slumping in their saddles or looking up distractedly into second-story windows. He barked out a warning to look smart and took the ducal pennon himself, spurring his horse to make the pennon fly. The gesture worked. Every eye in the market square adjacent was now on Jiri and the pennon and people were now cheering the return of the Duke.

A few minutes later, the group was dismounting in the inner courtyard of the town’s keep. Jiri turned the reins over to a servant and was met at the door of the keep by his wife, Franka, a tall, straight and spirited woman in her middle years, with long black hair and striking blue eyes. The two embraced warmly, Franka exclaiming “Welcome back home my dear, it so good to see you. This is a happy morning, everyone has been counting the minutes till you showed up! I wasn’t sure when you would be able to return so quickly with all the trouble that has broken out. But shh, before you say more, we have an unannounced guest (she strained at the work “guest”), Baron Javor Dokovic. He is a Bordurian officer, the one who started this uprising off at St. Narcissus’ in Starisveta. He ran into trouble with the rebels three days ago and came running back here with his surviving soldiers and insisted on having shelter. I thought it best to get them out of sight of the townspeople as quickly as possible lest someone did something rash, and some of his soldiers are indeed sorely wounded. I have set up the old barracks outside the keep as a hospital. He seems to be making himself quite comfortable in the Great Hall. I daresay it is reinforcements he is expecting, not you! You had best meet him now, before he learns you are here. He is a dreadfully dreary man, but be nice anyway, won't you?" Franka winked and grimaced at Jiri. "We’ll talk afterwards, I have to check on the Sisters attending those wounded Bordurians”. Franka slid neatly out from Jiri’s amorous embrace and ushered him down the entrance hall toward the stair leading to the Great Hall and pushed him to the door before turning and descending the stairs once again.

Jiri scowled to find have his homecoming spoiled already by having to deal with this Bordurian officer. Using his ill-humour to harden his demeanour, Jiri pushed open the heavy hall door whose iron latch made a loud echoing “clunk” in the hall and strode in. He was still wearing his spurs, which clattered on the stone floor. Cultivating his deepest icy snarl, Jiri growled loudly at the figure leaning back in his chair at the head of the table “BARON! To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your presence in my Keep?

Holiday in Borduria

2010-04-05T14:05:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter! I have been enjoying mine as much as I can and staying away from the computer! It was incredibly warm here; 26 degrees C or something crazy like that. That is about 12 degrees warmer than our previous record for this weekend. The snow is almost all gone, a few weeks early! No doubt it is the same in Syldavia, and the mountain rivers are raging with runoff. It is warm and sunny on the coast however. As always the orange trees on the Syldavian coast are already abounding in ripened fruit, even as they bloom! But, in Borduria, it is still winter and the only thing more dark and grim than a Bordurian winter is a Bordurian summer...

For those who might not yet know it (I am hardly on the cutting edge of news here), there is a second blog out there addressing Hergé's Syldavia and Borduria from a wargaming perspective. The blog, entitled Funny Little Wars Garden Campaigns - Borduria Calling can be found here . The blog is focussed on the 1920s interwar period, when a historical confrontation between tradition and iconoclastic modernity seems to have infiltrated most everywhere, from art to politics to military strategy, but practical experience had not yet wholly wrung the idealism out of either. Paul, the site's author, is concentrating on Borduria for the moment at least and has published descriptions of Bordurian cavalry, tankettes and parade infantry. He has shown a couple images of troops on parade in the charming Novi Grad castle in Szohôd, the capital of Borduria. I love the atmospheric pictures Paul has posted - Szohôd seems to be following the "Isengard" model for modernity. No petit bourgeoisie Art Deco there! Szohôd is quite plainly a perfect place to avoid like the plague. for a carefree holiday .

Paul has also pointed out of few of his literary and historical inspirations for his project. He notes one, King Zog of Albania, whom I stumbled across trying to learn a little bit of real-world history for my own project. King Zog had a very interesting career (see here) and could be a real model for the character of pistol-packing King Muskar XII from the Tintin book Ottokar's Sceptre; King Zog appears to have known how to use his when needed and faced multiple coup attempts during his career. My version of Syldavia could just as easily had been fitted onto the map of Albania; I chose to move it a little further away from the core of the Ottoman empire however.

If you find the doubly-fictional Syldavia sketched out at this site amusing, you will very much like Paul's site so please go visit him at Borduria Calling. Don't forget to surrender your passport at the border. And all hope as well...

Duke Jiri's long road to Douma, as imagined by Prof. Halembique

2010-03-31T11:01:00.000-07:00

Just after dawn, Duke Jiri arose with his retinue and descended the mountain. At the edge of the trail, they met Dragan the huntsman waiting with three of the mounted crossbowmen and two horses with empty saddles, one of which limped from a wound in its flank. “Welcome Dragan, you succeeded with the Bulgars then?” asked Jiri. “Yes, we did my lord. There were only two of them in the end. They were a very dangerous pair but we managed to catch both. We had a little luck with the low sun and their carelessness. Piotr was very unlucky, however. We buried him in the woods back near the bridge” replied Dragan.

“Ah, no! That was a brave risk you all took on our behalf, my thanks to you” said Jiri, with regret. After a long pause Dragan continued “We buried the Bulgars in the woods as well and hid the carcass of one of their horses as best we could in the dark. We saved the Bulgars’ clothes and caps as we thought that they might come in handy should we be spotted by another patrol”. “Good thinking, though we will have to be careful not to be caught with them” said Jiri. Dragan, will you and one of the soldiers scout ahead on the trail and wear the robes over your clothes? Dragan donned the robe, muttering “This is bound to be bad luck”.

The group continued on their way towards Douma, winding along at a fast pace through the hills with the disguised scouts well ahead. In the mid-morning, their track encountered a noisy little brook and snaked through its steep-walled and forested ravine. Jiri trotted up to join the lead riders to discuss the route ahead. He was mounted on his splendid black steed, which he had rested as much as possible the day before. Stépan spurred on his horse as well to catch up to the leaders but not before they made a sharp turn and disappeared into the trees.

As Jiri and Dragan talked, the trail made a second sharp turn and then the woods suddenly opened up, revealing a broad open gulch with the brook and the trail running along its edge. Jiri and the two other lead riders were stunned to suddenly see men, numbers of men, two dozen or more, there in the clearing before them. The men were just as surprised to see horsemen suddenly appear in their midst. Some were standing alongside the track, others were lolling about, one group was tending a small number of tethered horses, two others were unloading a cart, still others were setting up a cauldron on a tripod over a fire.

The first to react was a man standing on the trackside who fixed his eyes on the lead riders and cried out “Bulgars! BULGARS!!!” then unslung a crossbow and feverishly began to lever back its bowstring. Jiri’s attention was drawn by the sight of the weapon and then spotted other men bringing out weapons after the cry of alarm. “St. Vladimir! – Men! – Armed Men! – We have stumbled onto the rebels! Knights, to me!” Jiri reached for his sword as Stépan came out of the trees, alarmed by the cries. The “Bulgars” beside Jiri drew their own swords. Stépan began to take in the unexpected and confusing scene before him.

The crossbowman finished cocking his weapon and began to load a bolt while he snarled and shouted at Dragan. A great ginger-haired man with a bill hook stepped up beside the crossbowman, he too was intent on Dragan and then he looked over at Duke Jiri. As he did so his expression changed from anger to recognition and then confusion as he looked questioningly from Jiri to the “Bulgars” and back again. As the crossbowman raised his weapon, the ginger-haired man reached over and pushed it down, speaking to his companion as he did so. Both then concentrated on Jiri and looked anxiously towards him while backing up a few steps. Dragan was frozen, certain that he would meet the same end as the man whose robe he was now wearing had met, ironically by Dragan’s own hand just the day before. Fickle Fate!

Jiri at this point had his sword aloft and was turning in his saddle, crying again “TO ME!!” trying to speed his squad of young knights out of the woods. Expecting a crossbow bolt at any moment, he made his great horse lunge forward and then he reared it back, up on its hind legs. The horse, shrieking and frothing, kicked at the air towards the crossbowman. The man paled in terror and dropped to the ground cowering.

Stépan saw the strange exchange of looks between the rebels, the “Bulgars” and Dragan and Jiri. In an instant of insight he understood that the ginger-haired man had backed off once he recognized Jiri and was now waiting for the Duke to act. Then, hearing the hooves of the knights finally arriving behind him and noticing a squad of crossbowmen preparing their weapons across the clearing (“Its is the Duke!” someone cried), Stépan reached out to hold back Jiri’s sword arm, saying “My lord, don’t stop to fight, it is better to ride on through them. Get out of here”. Jiri glared back at him, furious to be restrained in the heat of the moment, only to see Stépan’s cool and intent eyes looking back at him. “Kinsman, listen to me, everything hangs on this moment, do not stop to fight here. They have missiles. We are outnumbered and unarmoured. We shall be killed if we stay here. Ride on through NOW!” urged Stépan. Jiri looked about quickly, surveying the chaotic situation around him. The ginger haired billman was desperately waiting and bracing himself in a defensive position. The crossbowmen across the clearing were now formed up and were loading their weapons while their chief looked warily back at him.

Jiri reined back his horse and it reared up again while the Duke bellowed “Knights – drive on through, scatter them, do not stop!” He then spurred his horse and sprang straight towards the crossbowman. The man bolted for his life, dropping his crossbow on the ground as he scuttled away. The ginger haired man backed off quickly, he grimly eyed the horse as he kept his billhook pointed vertically to gain some space for himself. The squad of knights, already at a run, caused a stampede among the footmen who expected more horsemen to arrive at any moment. Their flight cleared a wide path in front of the knights. Stépan shouted at Dragan to run after the knights. He then spurred his own horse into action, riding with his sword hand held up open in the air, looking squarely at the apparent leader of the group as he passed. In a few moments, Jiri and his retinue had passed through the clearing and were galloping down the forest track again. The whole standoff had taken but a handful of seconds. Stépan, last in the line, slackened his pace and looked warily back behind him, no pursuit was given.

After a couple of minutes, Jiri halted and called for his retinue to reform about him. Seeing that all were accounted for, Jiri looked to the disguised “”Bulgars” and said with a grim chuckle “Perhaps the disguises weren’t such a wise idea! It would be best to throw those clothes away now. We are approaching home territory anyway”. Dragan, still trembling, sighed deeply “A thousand thanks to you my lord. You and your horse saved my life back there, that man with the crossbow was aiming straight at me. He had no love for Bulgars, judging by the look on his face!”.

“That was a close shave, eh Stépan?” said Jiri, ruefully shaking his head and re-sheathing his sword. “I hate to leave those ruffians free on the road, but they will be ready for us now, we’ll be shot from our saddles if we go back and it is essential that we reach Douma. We will continue on our way and alert the first watch post we see that these men are on the trail” “Aye, lord, we are lucky that they were just as surprised as we were! And that you put the fear of God into that poor fellow with your horse!” replied Stépan. Dragan, beginning to recover himself now, merely whistled from between his crooked teeth.

The group resumed their route, now at a brisk trot. Jiri turned to Stépan and spoke quietly “We were indeed lucky there, we are fortunate that it was not a planned ambush”. Stépan replied saying: “Forgive my presumption back there, my Lord, I saw that there was still a chance to get out of there with everyone alive, but there was no time to explain”. “Hmph. Well, you were right in any case, Stépan, it was a wise choice to ride through. It would have been a bad mistake to get caught in a meaningless skirmish there and it probably would have ended badly for us as you say. But one thing, kinsman, what did you mean by “everything hangs on this moment”? “Er… I spoke in haste, my Lord. I merely meant that we, you in fact, are not yet at war with the rebels. To have attacked them there would probably have committed you to a course of action. Especially if some noble blood was spilled by them… some of the young knights, or you yourself even, St. Vladimir save us! By leaving without challenging them, you might still be able to claim that you and they are not enemies. Maybe even on the same side”.

“Oh well… ally myself with rebels? …a dubious prospect! You surprise me, Stépan, that is a quite lawyerly explanation for a soldier… and a fight with them is certainly likely” said Jiri. “Well, if you ask for my opinion, lord, we would have been cut down had we fought, but we weren’t necessarily in mortal danger at the beginning. That man with the crossbow, the one who started things off? He thought that Dragan was a Bulgar and that we were Bordurians. He was a rebel all right, and he was looking to kill an enemy. But that other fellow stopped once he recognized you. He had no desire at all to attack you and waited for you to show what you would do. There was also some sort of captain with that group of crossbowmen, he recognized you as well and held off firing on you. They weren’t in any hurry to do harm to you, just our “Bulgar” friends. I don’t think that these rebels are your enemies at all. Not unless you make them so”.

Jiri reflected on what Stépan said, and finally spoke. “A curious thing, I didn’t get as good a look at those men as you did but I have the impression that there were a number of seasoned soldiers amongst them. That wasn’t just a rabble coming straight off the farm. And, there are precious few farms around here in any case. These “rebels” are coming from elsewhere, outside Syldavia maybe”. Stépan replied “That makes sense, my lord. A few were wearing traces of what looked like a livery, red and white”. “Red and white – that is the livery of Hum! And of lots of other places” said Jiri. “Yes my lord… it is the livery of the Duke of Zadar as well. Many Syldavians and some of the old exiled nobility went into his service after the conquest...” said Stépan only to be cut off suddenly by Jiri, who said : “...and now that the Venetians and those so-called crusaders have sacked Zara and the Duke of Zara is dead, these exiled Syldavians are now cast to the winds once again. Like that fellow we met on the road a few days ago, what was his name… Gregor Mihailovic, that was it”.

Jiri and Stépan looked at each other as they rode, both arriving at the same conclusions. Jiri spoke “Well, Stépan, I think that we begin to understand what might really be going on with this uprising. These rebels are experienced and desperate soldiers, and Syldavian as well. This is going to be a tough nut to crack...” “Tough indeed, my lord. The Bordurians probably have no idea how tough” replied Stépan, with a hint of a sly smile as some hope began to grow inside him.

That evening the group spent the night at the estate of a trusted nobleman, discussing news of the uprising and of the presence of a new Bordurian force marching south from Djordjevaro. They rose before dawn and rode through Hum’s agricultural heartland, saluted enthusiastically by the people they passed. By late morning, Jiri was relieved to finally see the walls of Douma before him and the sparkling blue of the sea beyond.

Professor Halembique’s dream pt 4

2010-03-27T00:42:00.000-07:00

Following the directions given by Dragan, the huntsman, Duke Jiri lead his troop of knights down the track and up the mountainside to the shepherd's hut, arriving as the evening light began to truly fade. With a torch hastily light, a quick inspection showed the place to be a very cozy and well-built stone hut with one simple room and a stone-paved floor. It was a rather elaborate affair for a simple shepherd and it was apparently in regular use. With only the barest of gruff orders from Stépan, the young knights were soon putting their hands to good if inexpert use, unaccustomed to menial work as they were. Horse were unsaddled and brushed down, the hut was swept out, a fire set in the hearth, and a saddle blanket covered the hut’s small window in order to shut out the chill air and prevent the light of the fire from showing their presence. Soon the group were resting in the very crowed room and nibbling on their modest rations.

Jiri stepped outside to take the first watch and to collect his thoughts after their long day. Although he was tired, he nevertheless felt invigorated by the day’s success. He looked down the slope beyond the hut and saw the dark valley below disappearing into fog, barely illuminated by a half moon. No lights shone there. Where are Dragan and the soldiers now? It is dark now to be trying to follow the track, they must have made camp somewhere down there, if all went well…

Walking to the other side of the hut, Jiri saw that it backed into a gully with a grassy meadow and a pond. The tired horses nibbled the good grass beside the pond. Moonlight shimmered on the pond’s surface, the quiet broken only by the murmuring of the knights in the hut, complaining of their saddle-sore bottoms and the bracing night air, and by ducks alighting and carousing in the pond.

Jiri's reflection was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. "Ah, it is you Stépan. My compliments, your group of young knights seem disciplined and well trained. They rode very hard and kept the pace all day". "Thank you my lord, but I fear that they are still as green as can be. There is much work to do before they can stand against the enemy".

“I have no fear that they will soon be a credit to their families and to you as well. But be careful Stépan, now is not the time to speak so openly of enemies. We have none, at least offically. We walk along a knife’s edge these days, but it has always been like that, more or less, since the Bordurians arrived. It won’t help to turn these lads into hotheads."

Somewhat abashed, Stépan replied "I understand my lord. Um… but if I may, what do you plan to do once we get back to Douma? Do you really plan to march on these rebels?

“Hmm, that has been the question for the Almazouts since the days of my grandfather and the answer is still the same, we wait and see, Stépan. We don’t yet know who these rebels are or what they want. I am in no hurry to make war on our own countrymen, but there is more here than meets the eye. This uprising didn’t break out simply because of the arrests in the monastery, it was already in the works. The Viceroy or that beast in Djordjevaro will insist that the revolt must be put down immediately so it is a direct challenge to me one way or the other. I cannot let it fester. If it comes to that, it is better that we crush the rebels than see a Bordurian army come”.

Stépan murmured assent, but was clearly uneasy. “Do you think that the Bordurians are strong enough to send such an army now, with all that is going on”? he asked.

“They still have more men under arms in Hum than I do, and they could bring reinforcements”. Looking sidelong at Stépan, Jiri continued “We haven’t the numbers to take them on, and certainly not them and the rebels as well. At least, by putting down the revolt, we would permit the Bordurians to turn their attentions elsewhere. While they spend their strength we can gain time and a little bit of freedom. You are troubled, Stépan. I know this isn’t much but this is how we have survived since the invasion”.

Stépan hesitated as he tried to choose his words carefully. “Yes, I understand, my lord. It is like we are gutter dogs, used to being beaten. We have learned to grab scraps when we can and how to dodge blows before they fall…”

Hah! But we are noble mongrels nonetheless kinsman! Jiri laughed, a little bitterly, clapping Stépan on the back.

Stépan continued “Forgive me my lord, but we are sulking about in our our lands and now we are laying ambushes for our overlords’ agents just so we can return to our homes. Uprising or not, aren’t we already at war? It has imposed itself on us.”

The two fell into silence and watched the ducks squabble in the pond for the rest of the watch. After finishing his turn, Jiri returned to the hut to find a space let open for him in front of the hearth. Lying down, Jiri continued to ruminate. We have escaped detection so far, it is still possible to arrive early in Douma and take control of the situation before the Governor does. Everything hinges on that and then, once the uprising is taken care of, we can gauge the strength of the Bordurians... Finally beginning to drifting off, Jiri thought about Stépan’s pointed words and about quickly his entourage had begun to speak openly of the Bordurians as enemies. Their secretive flight that day had hardened the attitudes of everyone, down to Dragan, the loyal huntsman. Stépan was right, for all intents and purposes, they were already at war, but how to win was another story.

Prof. Halembique’s second dream pt 3

2010-03-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

A revolt in Hum? Jiri’s head was frozen in confusion at the news. How? There had been no clue that this was in the wind, things had been calm just a few days ago. While Jiri struggled to collect his thoughts, the messenger, a cavalryman based in Douma, continued: “…and as well, my lord, Bordurian soldiers forced their way into the monastery of St. Narcissus and arrested several monks. The rebellion broke out almost right away. Lord Drogo, the castellan at Douma, sent me as soon as our scouts could confirm what was going on”.

Jiri began to regain his composure as the messenger spoke. He finally placed the young man as intelligent soldier by the name of Matija, the son of a respectable burger family. That the Bordurians are arresting monks would surely be enough of a provocation for an uprising. Trouble is going to break out everywhere if these arrests are widespread. The cloister of St. Narcissus is in Starisveta, that is about five leagues or so northwest from Douma, near the coast. It wouldn't take long for news to get that far. “So, Matija, the rebellion broke out once news of the arrests reached Douma? “Er, my lord, the trouble seems to be further to the west, near the border. Our scouts reported that the rabble seized a frontier post and a tax-collector’s storehouse and that men were gathering a day’s march west of Starisveta. Starisveta was teetering on the edge of an uprising when I left and the mood in Douma was very poor but the town was under control” replied Matija.

“This uprising broke out right after the Bordurian insult in Starisveta, but not in the town itself…?” asked Jiri. That makes no sense. If it was simply the arrests themselves that set this off, the uprising wouldn’t be at the frontier but in the town. It seems as if these rebels were already planning to act when the Bordurians brought things to a head.

“How long have you been on the road? Jiri queried. “Two days, my lord. I rode hard and would have arrived earlier but Lord Drogo ordered me to avoid Bordurian patrols and to go around Djordjevaro as well. I had to find a place to swim across the river. Then, I had to stay out of sight of some Bulgar scouts on the road north of Djordjevaro. I think they were following me here”. Matija, now clearly exhausted, relaxed a little and began to look at the remains of the hunters’ feast with glassy eyes.

Jiri steered the messenger to a bench in front of the roast boar and put a wineglass in his hand. “You did well to get this news to me, Matija. You have my thanks. Eat your fill then rest”. Then, he turned to speak to the hunting party, still standing attentively and uneasily in front of their tables. “My friends, our time is short indeed, We cannot afford to be trapped here, far from Douma. Prepare yourselves to leave. Arrange your saddlery and your weapons and then get some sleep while you can. We will rise and depart before dawn ”. Suddenly left nearly alone, the Italian cook looked disconsolately at the the floor. His pièce de resistance, a spectacular pheasant tart with live birds under the crust, was a cold ruin. The birds had long since nibbled their way out of the crust and were sporting amongst the rafters of the emptying hall. Soon only Matija remained, tucking greedily into a plate piled high.

Jiri napped fretfully that night, thinking about the day to come. He arose two hours before dawn to find many of his men already awake and saddling their horses. Soon all the men were up. Jiri assembled them in the hall to give them their orders. “We are probably under watch by those Bulgars that Matija saw yesterday. So, we will head west through the forest and try to gain some time that way. It is still too dark in the forest for the horses so we will lead them on foot until there is a hint of light in the sky. I’ll travel to Douma with Stépan and a small group of other horsemen so that we can better hide from sight. Muzzle the dogs to keep them quiet, they will come with us for the first few miles. Then you, Joris, you will take the dogs and the men at arms north towards the mountain. Make sure the dogs make a lot of noise up there. I will continue west up the valley, then turn south and go wide around Djordjevaro. The accursed Governor is waiting for us there, so let us avoid him”.

Jiri paused and then continued “The men at arms and members of the household will have to stay here for now and keep up the semblance of a hunt. I will need a volunteer to command them”.

An awkward silence answered Jiri. The Chevalier de Canço stepped forward. He was a short and solid man but who was full of energy and easy motion. The younger knights of Hum looked stiff and straight as boards standing next to him. “You have been a noble host to me, lord. May I offer to repay your kindness by volunteering to stay with your men?”.

Jiri was surprised by the offer “You are very generous, Chevalier, but this is not really your responsibility, I would regret to see you become entangled in Syldavia’s problems”.

The Chevalier replied “If I may be so bold, my lord, I have a little experience of command and with being an emissary. Your young knights include some of your own kinsmen and the sons of Hum’s grand families. They are all liable to be held as captives if taken by the Governor, for ransom or to gain an advantage over you. I am but a pilgrim passing through Syldavia and am of no account here. My voyage to Antioch was required of me by the Archbishop of Toulouse, a Cardinal. It would create a diplomatic incident to detain me, even in Orthodox lands”. Raymond de Canço recalled quickly the events that lead him to this enforced pilgrimage: a couple of ill-judged sarcastic poems written about a powerful man back in Toulouse, the death of a patron, the emnity of the Archbishop and his own precipitous fall from grace. Oh well, c’est la vie. At least I missed that ill-conceived crusade the Archbishop threatened to send me on. And, here I am, in the middle of interesting times here in Syldavia. Things could be worse!

“We are fortunate to have your among us, Chevalier. I accept you proposition. I ask you only to remain here three days, you may then return to Douma when you see fit. From there you may continue your voyage. My men at arms shall be your bodyguards en route, though I will take some crossbowmen with me, the four men with the fastest horses. They should change out of their livery and find some common clothes before we go.

The huntsman spoke up “My lord, my family hails from the hills southwest of Djordjevaro. I know tracks through the hills that can lead you back to the main road south of Rivajow, places where none but shepherds pass”.

“Excellent, that is perfect. We’ll need to keep our eyes open for these groups of rebels as well!” replied Jiri, then turning to address the cook, he said “Leave the table set and keep a fire in grate and meat on the spit, as if we are coming back”. The cook merely rolled his eyes. “Now, let us start out”.

Setting out, the group found that their departure was covered by a thick fog as well as the dark. Later, a couple of miles into the forest, Jiri turned to his party saying "This is where we part. My lord de Canço, Joris, take your men and the dogs up the mountain, you can now remove the dogs’ muzzles. Stay out all day, return to the lodge with the setting sun. Farewell and good luck to you!”

“Good luck to you on your voyage, my lord. We hope to be back with you soon”.
Joris, the veteran sergeant of the men at arms, stuck his spear on the ground and exclaimed quietly “Hurrah, the Duke!” The men at arms, spontaneously joined in “Long live Duke Jiri!

Back on his hunting horse and moving quickly along the forest trail in early morning gloom with his big black horse trailing behind him, Duke Jiri felt his confidence rising. They were still well hidden by the fog and the gloom and the heavy air stifled even the baying of the hounds, who were falling fast behind them. Even without the light, Jiri knew this terrain well, having wandered it since he was a youth. Pressing on westwards into the valley, he followed a deer path above the banks of the Vepur Kavak stream, whose course ran through a shallow canyon. Jiri suddenly struck off the path and wound down the steep ravine to a ford over the stream. Without hesitating, he spurred his horse into and across the stream. The others hastened to keep pace with him, several less agile riders found themselves quite thoroughly doused.

The group picked up another trail leading into the hills west of Djordjevaro and continued on their way. The huntsman now took the lead, scanning constantly the trail ahead and the hilltops around them. They pounded on long into the day, through forests and bare hills and past shepherds tending their flocks, finally arriving at a large and prosperous farm, the estate of a retired knight and gentleman farmer. Here, Jiri and his entourage took refreshments from the solicitous landowner and requisitioned extra horses. They returned to the trail until the sun began to drop, silhouetting the hill-tops. The huntsman slowed up to draw beside Duke Jiri. “My lord, don’t look now but we are being followed by two horsemen, they are on the ridge to the west and are matching our pace. They are over-bold, my lord, to have let the sun reveal them so". The huntsman's voice contained a hint of scorn for the horsemen's sloppy pursuit.

“We won’t be able to catch them here in the open, they will just run away if we turn. We will have to try to lose them in the night” said Jiri.

“Aye, lord. That ridge they are on will end in a cliff in a mile or two. We will have to cross a small bridge beneath the cliff and they will have to come down and cross there as well. We’ll be back in the cover of the forest by then. Let me take the crossbowmen and lay in wait for them while the rest of you go on, we can at least force them to walk”.

“All right. Be sharp though. They cannot escape to give a report. Understood?” said Jiri.

“Understood, my lord!” said the huntsman. A grim and crooked grimace cracked his face, which was whiskered and weathered nut-brown by a life spent outdoors. He dreaded a confrontation with soldiers but was clearly excited by the pursuit and the day’s urgency. “Look ahead, my lord. You see that big hill-top a few miles ahead, the one with two rounded peaks and a gully in the middle? Yes? Well, it will be getting dark by the time you arrive in front of it. A little brook flows down from that gully, this track goes right through it. Follow the brook up the hill-side and you will find a little stone hut where you can pass the night in shelter. It will be safer than sleeping by the side of the trail, you'll be able see anyone coming from afar and you can always sneak out the other side of the gully if need be”. We will meet you on the road again in the morning but if all goes awry, follow this track to a river, less than an hour south of the hut. Ford the river and continue south into the lowlands, you will soon find yourself amidst the farmland north of Douma. I’d stay away from the main road as long as possible”.

The two rode on silently with the rest of the troop in a file behind until they crossed the little wooden bridge and were once again enclosed by the shade of the forest. Once well into the wood, the group came to a halt. The huntsman and the crossbowmen dismounted and disappeared into the woods where they tethered their horses in a thicket and then circled back toward the bridge. Dressed in neutral brown, they soon disappeared from view as they took up hiding places near the bridge. Jiri and the rest of his depleted band spurred their horses once again and clattered off down the trail.

The two pursuing horsemen trotted along the ridge top, stopping once they could see the cliff edge. They then turned back in search of a safe route down the slope. Barely two minutes later they arrived at the bridge, one venturing ahead, the other hanging back. Both looked cautiously at the bridge and into the woods beyond, acting for all the world like wolves. They wore loose-fitting belted robes, each with a cap tipped with a feather and carried recurved bows in their hands as they rode. The trailing rider gestured upriver, making a swimming motion with his arms. The lead rider peered into the stream, which seemed deep and fast and the very irregular bedrock slabs of its shoreline suggested that its bottom might be dangerous for a horse’s legs. He looked down the trail into the shaded woods once again and then back to the trailing rider, gesturing to the descending sun which was left unobscured by gaps between the hills and which was now very much in their eyes. The hind rider gestured once again upstream but the lead shook his head and approached the bridge. The hind rider cursed audibly and then approached the bridge as well, watching as the first crossed and then stepping up to cross it himself.

The sun still in his eyes until the last moment, the first rider disappeared into the shadows cast by the trees and found himself momentarily more or less blind, but he let his horse walk on nonetheless. The second rider had already crossed by this time but he hesitated at the edge of the forest’s shadow to watch his partner ride ahead. At that moment, the lead horse suddenly shrieked and reared back, then fell heavily, throwing his rider. The horse rolled onto its back and convulsed, showing the end of a bolt buried deep in its chest, just beside its heart. In an instant it went still. The rider too lay still, his head cocked at an unnatural angle as he lay face down in the trail. A second bolt ripped through the air before the nose of the rear horse, passing where the horse would have been had the rider not stopped. The rider stared for just an instant into the dark woods and with a quick and fluid motion loosed an arrow into the trees. A crossbowman collapsed, gasping and surprised, with an arrow in his chest. Then, cursing again, the rider reigned his horse back savagely, turned on the spot and sprang for the bridge. A crossbowman fired but his bolt but missed as the horse turned with such rapidity. A forth bolt embedded itself in a tree as the last crossbowman, ham-handed, fumbled his weapon at the last moment. Out from the bushes at the track edge jumped the huntsman who nocked an arrow and drew back his bow. Although the rider had dropped down to hang hidden by the side of his horse, both the horse and the huntsman were in the middle of the track, which ran in a straight line. For the huntsman, a very experienced man with a bow, it was not a difficult shot. The huntsman aimed and loosed the arrow, hitting the horse in the flank. The horse reared and turned, forcing the rider to sit up in the saddle to regain control of his mount. The huntsman knocked and loosed a second arrow, this one hitting the rider in the waist as the horse arrived at the bridge. The rider twisted, then slumped and finally slid from his saddle and into the stream. The huntsman grimaced once again, shook and looked down at his hands, which trembled madly as they never did while hunting game.

Prof. Halembique’s second dream pt 2

2010-03-14T21:27:00.000-07:00

Dusty from a few days on the road, Duke Jiri and his party arrived at his hunting lodge and set about making themselves comfortable, well-fed and merry. The next day, the group set out in eager pursuit of an elusive stag who had shown himself near the lodge. Jiri hung back with his huntsman who, while scanning the woods and then, nocked an arrow and nodded into the trees, whispering “My lord, there is a stranger standing in the trees just over there”. Jiri followed the huntsman’s eyes, “Ah yes, so there he is, and right on time. It is safe, but keep your finger on your bowstring and your eyes open for anyone else, I must not be disturbed”.

As Duke Jiri walked forward, out from the trees stepped a man with a long sparse beard dressed in a weather-stained brown cloak. He lead a non-descript nag whose bridle he tied to a branch, then he bowed to Jiri saying in reedy voice “My lord”. “So, what news do you have to tell me?” said Jiri, closing his own cloak about him. Jiri disliked meeting spies but he found this man, one of his most useful agents, particularly creepy. The man stroked his stringy beard and replied “Lord, Bordurian soldiers are on the move everywhere. They have been moving infantry to Djordjevaro, many of them are coming straight from the garrison of Klow”. “Ah, I saw some of those soldiers on my way here” replied Jiri. “Yes my lord, but there are more on their way as we speak, they should arrive at Djordjevaro in three days or so. I have been as far east as Moltuja, a second force is marching to the guard the St. Mihailo pass to watch the road to Travunia. There are a lot of mercenary Bulgar cavalrymen with them, quite a nasty lot. They are moving extra horses and provisions to their garrisons, they look to be preparing for a war”. Jiri shifted uneasily on his feet War? Now? Who is there left to fight? They are the masters here now… Are they planning to take over the rest of my Duchy? Oh, come on now, Jiri, are you scared of your own shadow?

The spy continued “There is more, my Lord. The Bulgars have a launched a new campaign in Dekamonia and are moving troops to fight the Byzantines there. The Bordurians are obliged to provide troops immediately for their masters so their garrisons in Zympathia and Polishov have been stripped down and the levy has been called up. Those troops are already departed under the command of the Viceroy’s sons”. “I see… have you anything else?” asked Jiri. “Well, yes, my lord. Just five days ago the Viceroy sent troops into the monastery of St. Vladimir in Klow and arrested a handful of monks on charges of treason. They were new initiates, members of some old noble families, but they seem to have missed most of the people they were looking for. The monastery is closed and under guard and the Viceroy’s agents are now looking for others elsewhere. As well, there are a few curious things that I can’t explain, my lord. There is more traffic on the roads than normal, small groups of men, Syldavians by their accents. Some appear to be merchants though they haven’t much to sell, others look like landless labourers. Some are on on their way east, others are travelling to Wlaruja, others toward Douma. Also, I have twice stumbled upon different groups of Venetians. Quite obviously they are agents. They were sniffing around Wladruja and Djordejvaro, looking to talk to old veterans about those old stories about Prince Branilsaw”. “Indeed? Venetians? This was a very productive mission, you have well earned your reward” said Jiri, passing the man a pouch of coins. “Keep your eye on the goings on in Klow and report to me at Douma. It is probably best for you to avoid Djordjevaro if you can”.

It was indeed a rich report, the spy had far more to report than ever before. Jiri was having trouble to digest all of this news and he found himself worried to learn that so much was going on around him. The news that the King of the Bulgars had jumped into the Venetian’s war against the Byzantines, pulling the Bordurians in with them, was unexpected, although it was a clever plan in hindsight. No doubt there would soon be a widespread levy in Syldavia. There would surely be resistance to that. Perhaps the heavier garrison in Djordjevaro was simply a preparation against possible unrest… The crackdown on the monasteries would make sense as an attempt to forestall any organised rebellion. But it would surely bring resentments to a point. Jiri reflected on his recent surreptitious communications with the monks of St. Stanislaus’ in Tranvunje; those brothers were certainly working to mount a challenge to the Viceroy. Things in Syldavia are rapidly coming to a head now, and here I am at the far end of the Duchy, as far from Douma as I can be. Not very good timing on my part…

That evening, the hunting group feasted well on pheasants, smoked eels, wild boar and Syldavian wine. Full of fine food and drink, they made merry and were treated to an evening of song courtesy of the Chevalier Raymond de Canço, the French knight on pilgrimage who proved to be a troubadour, one of the first to have passed through Syldavia. The companions were at turns amused and entranced by the songs of courtly love and the deeds of knights. Duke Jiri spent the evening distracted and worried mood however, pondering his spy’s news and how Borduria’s activities figured to affect his duchy. Jiri finally turned to his lieutenant and murmured “Stépan, we won’t be staying here long. Trouble is breaking out everywhere. The Bordurians are going to war with the Bulgars and now they have started rounding up the monks of St. Vladimir's. “Hah!” chortled Stépan. “They might as well have taken a stick to a hive of wasps!” “Yes, that is exactly what I expect they have done” replied Jiri with a grim chuckle. "However, they are sending troops to Djordjevaro and Moltuja as well. They are moving to control the major roads to and from the highlands. I believe they are preparing for a rebellion in the lowlands. Things were calm enough at home when we left but we need to be back before news of this trouble spreads. The Bordurians will surely demand that I be their policeman once again, but with a strong force already in Djordjevaro, that pig of a governor might take the chance to move in on his own. And that might as well be the end of the Almazouts, Dukes of Hum”, said Jiri, spreading his hands on the table, feeling more than a little anxious.

“My lord, the governor knows that you are here and that he is between you and Douma…!” replied Stépan.

Jiri took a quick and deep draught of wine and stood up, bringing the party to attention with a rap on the table. “My companions, eat your fill this evening but ready yourselves to leave at the break of dawn. Trouble has come to Hum and we must return home at once”. We…” Jiri was cut off in mid-sentence as the hall’s door suddenly burst open and an exhausted, travel-stained man rushed in, a cringing house servant in tow. “My Lord Duke!”, he shouted in a cracking voice. Nearly all the stunned group in the hall reached for their swords and then breathed with relief when, as the man stepped fully into the light of the hall, they saw that that he wore the Duke’s livery.

The man took a breath and started again “My lord Duke, I have come with a message from the Castellan at Douma. He begs you to return immediately. There is an uprising in Hum! Armed men are coming out of the mountains and off the farms, they are massing in the hills west of Douma!" A grim scowl froze on Jiri’s face as dread gave way to alarm in his mind.

Project progress and a small change in direction...

2010-03-12T21:17:00.000-08:00

...Or is it two directions at once?

When I started my Syldavia project, I hadn’t paid much attention to my world of little lead men for quite some time. Back in the day, when I lived close to an active gaming group, I had been quite active in Napoleonic wargaming and I built up some substantial armies in 15mm, along with the trimmings (terrain, including a number of scratch-built buildings). I packed all that great weight with me during a few moves and I remain happy that I did so as I liked peeking at them and putting them through drills from time to time, even if I didn’t get around to playing much. Solo wargaming is prone to periods of drought, at least in my case. After my long-slumbering urge to paint and play returned again, I looked for something new to try out. This turned out to be the SYW and my own Imagi-Nation project, having been inspired by stumbling onto EvE and a few related websites. I can clearly recall the very fun hour during which I surfed onto both Der Alte’s Fritz’s site AND Phil Olley’s Warchest - wow! I thought I was dreaming!

I searched around for figures I liked and ended up with some 18mm Eureka figures and samples of 28mm RSM 95 figures. I choose the Eureka figures in the end because I had already painted a lot of figures in that scale and I liked the « massed » look of having several bigger battalions in that scale, easier to achieve in 15/18mm than in 25/28mm, at least in terms of simple numbers of castings. I also had that inventory of terrain pieces that were perfectly appropriate for the SYW, and I liked the idea of limiting cost, storage and playing space. I have made some inroads into the Syldavian lead mountain with my own (slow) work and with some hirelings. Just below is a picture of some of these figures, you can see some others here.

IR 5 Dbrnouk and IR 3 Istow Musketeers, Eureka 18mm

I like the Eureka figures for the completeness and diversity of their line and the balanced animation of the sculpting, The very positive interactions I had with Nic Robson helps quite a bit as well. I wish these figures existed when I my interest in my Napoleonics first started to wane. Some are a bit on the chunky side of ideal for my taste but the poses are generally sober and appropriate for the square-rigged SYW. My little lead sergeant majors are fond of giving a bit of the cane to overly excited prancing recruits : “You there – dress ranks! Were you painted just yesterday? Look smart and act like you have been in front of the enemy before!” I am pleased by how my first Syldavian battalions have turned out. I have even ventured into trying some modest conversions, something I really don’t like doing in 18mm normally.

While I have certainly painted my share of 15mm figures and used to turn them out quickly and painlessly, I have to admit that I find it more difficult now. I suspect that the problem is that I haven’t been painting nearly enough to really get my chops back, nor am I likely to get the chance to put many consecutive hours in for some time yet. No doubt vision has something to do with it as well (as much as one would like to deny the effects of time…). In any case, painting the 18s is a tougher job now than I remember it being in the past. I have been feeling somewhat daunted in fact. So, out of curiosity, I decided to paint one of the RSM 95 sample figures this week. It was their marching Austrian fusilier, which is a casting that many of you must know very well. Here is the fellow, finished and dressed in the uniform of IR 2 Klow Musketeers.

Musketeer IR 2 Klow Musketeers RSM95

It is the first 25/28mm figure I have painted in a very long time. There are a number of things to improve in this trial (notably, simplifying to reduce painting time and black lining) but I have to say that I really had fun painting it and it seemed easier work than my recent 18’s. The RSM95s really do paint up nicely and I admire their sculpting. In fact, I liked the result so much that I promptly ordered some more RSM 95s and some Minden figures as well. I am looking forward to seeing all of them painted up and on parade.

A view of IR 2 Klow that the Bordurians shall surely never see!

So, where does this experiment leave my project plans? I think my plans just become more complicated! I am certainly going to keep on with my 18mm army, I’ll use them for larger battles, Syldavia-Borduria and for that other SYW. I ordered enough RSM95 and Minden figures to build a small army on the lines of that sketched out in Charge!, so I think that this second project will be my chance to give the Old School a try for myself. Sounds like fun to me.

So, stay tuned for progress. Is that the postman at the door?

Prof. Halembique’s second dream

2010-03-06T20:25:00.001-08:00

Prof. Halembique stirred in his chair, let out a long exhalation, and then settled back into his chair and his dream. (Please note that this story precedes that related in the post of Feb. 10).

Jiri Almazout, the Duke of Hum, departed from his home in Douma to go hunting on a family estate at the northern frontier of the Duchy. For a self-respecting Duke (that is to say, a man who goes to bed at night thinking it possible that he will be king by morning), Jiri was travelling as lightly as he could. He had with him only his favourite horse, a very imposing, well-muscled and nervous animal with a gleaming back coat, his hunting steed and a small party consisting of a guest (a visiting French knight on pilgrimage to Jerusalem), a handful of apple-cheeked and enthusiastic youthful noble companions, a more sober kinsman who was a long-time member of his personal retinue, his falcon-holder, a huntsman, an equerry, an Italian cook, a small troop of mounted men at arms and crossbowmen (one can’t trust the roads with all the outlaws about these days) and two well-laden carts each pulled by four fit horses to keep the pace. Jiri hadn’t made the substantial effort needed to go to his hunting estate in over a year, so he thought it wise to bring some creature comforts as the pantry and the wine cellar there were bound to be in sorry shape.

After one day on the road, the party encountered a man dressed in dusty clothes tending a donkey cart with a broken axel. Sitting nearby in the shade of tree was an aged man resting on a bed of hay, while a large and healthy horse patiently munched grass by the roadside. Even though he was working alone, the man had managed to jack up the cart with rocks and had evidently used the horse, tied to the cart, to help him lift it. Jiri hailed the man, who bowed somewhat nervously before the Duke. He replied “Good day my lords, please forgive us for blocking your path, we have cracked the axel on a rock”. One of the younger nobles snickered impatiently at the man’s predicament but Jiri felt an instinctive sympathy for him. He dismounted and asked the man his business while inspecting his horse approvingly. The man with the cart replied quickly “M’lord, my name is Gregor Mihailovic. I am heading to Travunia with my aged father. He is unwell and wishes to see his old home again and to pray at his father’s church before he dies”. Jiri approached the old man to pay his respects; propped up against the shade tree, the old man bowed his head and gestured a little awkwardly in return. “M’lord, he murmured. Jiri saw that despite his fraility, the old man had a large frame, big strong hands and a rock-cut jaw, he was undoubtedly a strong and impressive man in his day. He had multiple linear scars across his face, as if he had been slashed at with a sword long ago.

Jiri removed his riding gauntlets and stepped forward to take one side of the wheel that Gregor Mihailovic was trying to remove. “Come on, lets get you back on your way. My men and I can try to repair your cart”. The young knights of the hunting party, taken by surprise by their Duke, scrambled to dismount and to take a hand with the cart. Before long, they had lifted out the broken axel while Jiri’s huntsman, a handy fellow, began to trim a stout pine trunk to fit the wheels. After an hour of work, the huntsman and Gregor Mihailovic succeeded in putting the cart back together again.

“Well”, said Jiri, “I think that you should be able to get to the next village with that, if not all the way to Travunia. Your father is an old soldier I take it?” Gregor Mihailovic replied “Yes, M’lord, many years ago in the service of King Danilo”. “Ah, you have been living abroad then, for forty years or so, I suppose?” asked Duke Jiri. Gregor Mihailovic answered “Er… yes M’lord, there wasn’t much left for my father in Travunia after… um…the battle so he went abroad. We have made our living working the soil for some years now”. Jiri reflected quickly on the wave of immigration of the adherents of the house of Muskar that had followed the Bordurian conquest and felt some pity for the pair before him. Both he and his uncle, the old duke, had sheltered others in similar circumstances. “Well, I bid you a safe journey though I can’t say that you will find your home when you reach your destination”. Jiri paused a moment before remounting and pulled a small sack of coins from a pouch on his belt. “Here, take this Gregor Mihailovic. Your road is likely to be long and your father deserves comfort and prayers along the way. Should your journey come to naught, present yourselves to my court at Douma. We always have need of… good farmers in Hum”. Jiri left the purse in the hands of the dumfounded Gregor Mihailovic who stammered his gratitude.

The Duke spurred his horse onto the road and his entourage followed. After a few minutes he turned to his lieutenant and asked “There is more to that man and his father than this story about simple farmers. Tell me, Stépan, your family fled Travunia after the fall of Wastrelmir, do you know of a knight named Mihailovic who survived the last battle and went into exile? Stépan, the dour officer, thought a moment and finally replied “My lord, Mihailovic is a common name, but there was a knight, Lazlo Mihailovic, in the retinue of Count Konstantin, the king’s cousin and one of the deposed lords of Travunia. I believe that he survived and went into exile. He found service in the retinue of the Duke of Zadar, I think. Why do you believe that he was a knight my lord?” “That mare was not bred for pulling ploughs, Stépan. She had a curious brand on her flank, did you see it? Like a trident or a fork I think”. “Oh, like a claw perhaps, My lord?” replied Stépan, holding up his hand with his fingers displayed into a crooked imitation of a claw. “Yes, that is it” replied Jiri. “That would make some sense my lord. That is the claw of the Falcon of Travunia” said Stépan, referring to Travunia’s coat of arms. “It was often used by the knights who held fiefdoms allotted by the Duke of Travunia, as my father did". Jiri turned in his saddle to look again at the cart and its curious passengers but it was already out of sight.

During their third day on the road, the Duke’s party found themselves before the town of Djordjevaro, where the Wladir River passes through a shallow gorge across which one of the river’s few bridges was built. The bridge, originally constructed the Romans, gave Djordejvaro great strategic importance and accordingly the town had long been fortified. Gatehouses were situated on both ends of the bridge and a keep, built of stone stained black by time and weather, loomed forebodingly over the town and the river.

Control of the town and of the bridge had originally been one of the cornerstones of the power of the Almazout family, although their official duchal seat was in the coastal town of Douma. The Bordurian Viceroy Surov, had also noted the strategic importance of the town and appropriated it as a vice-regal domain, using it as the central military barracks and administrative centre for the province of Hum. Jiri’s uncle, who was Duke at the time of the Bordurian invasion, did not have the power to resist this appropriation and counted himself lucky to have avoided being deposed and dispossessed as had been his neighbour Dukes. Nevertheless, the expansion of the governor’s powers at the expense of his own grated at Jiri; the governor was now the chief magistrate of Hum, the chief recipient of its taxes and in control of the largest military forces there. Jiri’s control effectively was limited to the coastal region and the northernmost edge of Hum, the destination of his present journey. To add insult to injury, the Governor was in fact technically his inferior. He was the son of Baron Petar Nikolic , who as Baron of Djordjevaro and liege of the old Duke, had independently plotted with the Bordurians and ingratiated himself with the Viceroy to the extent he was made Count and then Governor of Hum at the Duke’s expense. Jiri recalled the old Count as a treacherous, ambitious and insolent man; he was believed by many to have been the person responsible for the ambush and disappearance of Prince Branislaw on the eve of the fall of the Muskar’s dynasty. His son, the present Count and Governor, was an even more insufferable upstart and schemer.

Crossing the bridge, Jiri cast his eye on the fortification walls and the teams of masons and labourers who toiled on the walls amidst a dubious spider-web of scaffolding. Jiri had received reports that fortifications were being improved but the scale of the work nevertheless surprised him. Carts of stone were being unloaded and their contents piled at the foot of the walls. Other carts brought quantities of lime, sawyers worked on great tree trunks, stonecutters trimmed blocks into shape. Men wearing livery of the viceroy’s army worked as labourers under direction of masons and at deepening the dry ditch. Viewed from the south, from the river, the fortifications were high and substantial and new archery galleries on top of the gatehouse turrets gave sweeping fields of fire over the bridge. Jiri calculated that with the improvements it would take siege works and engines to take the gatehouse; a direct assault across the bridge, previously merely extremely difficult, would now entail catastrophic losses.

Jiri and his party were challenged at the gatehouse by a swaggering Bordurian sergeant who demanded their business. Jiri swallowed back his sudden anger at the impertinence of the soldier. His lieutenant Stépan stepped forward replying in terms as icy as possible “Are ye blind, man, do ye not see the standard? Make haste to open the gate, for the Duke awaits!”. The sentry stiffened a little when he ventured to look up and saw the duchal pennon on an upright lance, but dug in his heels. “Pray wait a moment, my master the Castellan will wish to speak to my lords”. He called out to a second soldier to man his post and scurried off.

Duke Jiri passed a few more uncomfortable minutes awaiting the Castellan, during which he watched the Bordurian soldiers at their work. They were not so very skilled labour after all, it seemed. Jiri chuckled and then suppressed his laughter as he heard a crash of falling stones followed by a shout and a mason ripping into a clumsy soldier with a very choice selection of Syldavian curses. The mason railed on about the uselessness of the workers and of the job itself, declaring that the old wall should be pulled down before it was built higher. He reflected that his own uncle the previous Duke was more than somewhat dilatory in the maintenance of his fortifications. Jiri looked more closely at the walls of the gatehouse, and now noted gaps in the mortar and long cracks running through the masonry. Indeed, thought Jiri, the walls may be getting higher but they are not getting any stronger.

Finally the Castellan arrived and a few more uncomfortable minutes were passed in a thorny dance of superficial courtesy and obstinate insisting on rules and rights, the Duke’s party passed through the gate and through the town. The Duke despised travelling through Djordjevaro because the Governor made an administrative necessity of making clear the extent of Bordurian power within his duchy. The Castellan, appointed by the Governor, was an old Bordurian soldier, smug in his office, massively solid and squat like a old tree stump, just as intransigent and rotten on the inside. It could have been worse however, if the Governor had been there. Finally clearing the gate on the other side of the town, Jiri swore the air grew fresher. He looked backed at the black-stained tower of the keep and noted that on this side of town, the walls were being left untouched, as they had been for years.

A hour beyond Djordjevaro, the party turned west off the main road and crested a high hill, suddenly gaining a sweeping view of the long range of mountains which stretched rampart-like several kilometres off to the west, marking the northern frontier of the duchy. The valley bottom and mountain slopes were forested, with isolated fields clustered about dispersed villages the only obvious signs of habitation. Jiri could see however the clearing where his hunting lodge was built and even a plume of smoke which showed the place had been prepared to receive him. Jiri began to long for a meal and a chance to think about the things he had seen on his long trip.