Excerpts from "A History of Calradia" by Simon Schama

[The Sniper]

Supreme Councilman Daniel looked out to the beautiful evening sky.
This reminded him of home, which the dark knights ruthlessly razed, then proceeded to massacre the population, which included his family.

Now he wanted revenge.

He had become a hero, and he and his army had gone and conquered several cities, freeing the populances from the tyrannical dark knights (except for the dead knights) and inventing the first democracy in Calradia, now he was going to take another castle.

He looked upon Harringoth castle, it's commander, Lord Harringoth had been captured then imprisoned in his very own castle months before when the Dark Knights took it.

He yelled "CHARGE" as the first wave assualted the castle, arrows flew, men fell never to get up again.The defenders sallied out to meet their assualt, then they were pushed back only to sally out to meet the assualts again. The seige towers rumbled foward, the ladders were raised, bows shooting arrows sung. Then the attackers managed to get on the walls. They, from there made their way to the castle gate tower. The gate was open! Attackers poured in. soon they had completely taken over the outside part of the castle.They fought their way inside, the remaining defenders surrendered.The castle had fallen, fallen to the Republic of Vaegirs.

 

[Pellagus]

It is an odd thing to recall, but the spymaster of Praven didn't seem to care that the tavern heard his business. I was a young squire that day, handed my hat by a hired mercenary a few hours before after causing trouble at the marketplace, now nursing a bloodied nose over a cup of the cheapest ale. I stood by the bar while he sat by the fire, receiving visitor after visitor and laughing and joking with each. Secrets and gossip were shared openly, and I wondered how such an apparently seditious individual might have found useful employ with the Queen.

His acquaintances were a varied lot, from surly brigands to foreign ambassadors and even a high-born Swadian lord of some repute. As the day wore on, he accepted many gifts and seemingly drank without ever once paying the tavern-keep, who kept a steady flow of drinks to the spymaster's table. In the evening he dined on pig parts served with gravy and bread, the aroma of which reminded my own innards I had not eaten that day.

At sight of my hunger he beckoned me over. An empty belly overtook pride and the thin beer made me incautious, so I took a stool at his table and shared his plate. He ate happily in silence for a while, before belching loudly and calling for another plate, this time of beef, which he took apart enthusiastically, gulping down great strips of meat between slurps of beer.

After a while, he pushed aside his plate, wiped his face and lit up his long pipe, whilst regarding me steadily. Eventually he spoke.

"I have seen you around town, young sir. Son of a noble, untitled but not untutored, hmm? Why do you waste your time causing trouble in the marketplace, I ask myself?"

"We are not at war, my father is a landowner and runs his own estate. He has no need of my help and has apprenticed me to the cathedral." I answered.

His eyes narrowed, then he grinned. "Ah! And you are bored? The times of peace are few and far between in Calradia, you should enjoy them, for soon there will be war again and then you will be too busy staying alive to worry the wenches at the market..."

He looked around the tavern, then turned back to me, leaning forwards. "Would you like to know a secret? I mean a real secret, not the tittle tattle I have endured this day. The Sarranids claim a small force of black-clad knights killed a detachment of their guard a few days ago. They are blaming the Swadians and our own Queen blames the Vaegir. War is coming, young squire. Real, terrible war that will tear Calradia apart."

He sat back, suddenly looking tired.

"How do you know this?" I asked, aware how quiet the tavern suddenly seemed.

"I am old, young squire and this job is a tiring one. I have seen many wars, started quite a few meself and heard many rumours. Once long ago, there were black knights that rode into Calradia. Ask the old men in the villages about the fields where no crop grows to this day."

He stood up, stretching. "And now I must leave, for there are things to do before war begins. Good evening young sir."

He paid for his food, then strode out into the night.

 

[The Sniper]

Lord Harringoth, now free, thanked Supreme Counsilman Daniel for saving him from the clutches of the Dark Knights, then he had left for Praven, which the Dark Knights had yet to counqer. A week later, Daniel had received a plea of help, Praven was in danger of falling to the dark knights, it had been besieged by an army far larger then the defending army. He quickly had his army saddle up and move to Praven.

When they arrived, the Dark Knights were attacking the walls. He ordered his men to attack the enemies.The archers launched volly after volley of ivory arrows.The Cavalry hit the shocked enemy with tremendous force, and the infantry advanced on the enemy with a turtle formation. The very suprised enemy force was beaten then routed.

more to come later

 

[daumor]

On Religion in Calradia, 1256.

The Swadian Prolatia.
[size=10pt]The Holy Swadian Empire had one religion. Few were more draconian, and no priest on the continent wielded more power than the High Prolate. He crowned royalty, appointed religious leaders across the realm, declared Crusades, initiated Templars, and most importantly, was the only man, according to the Prolitian, that talked to the God. God was a sexless, all knowing being of infinite power, that created and destroyed life on a whim. In turns generous and ruthless, it wanted nothing more than the omnipresent spread of it's will. The obvious paradox of infinite power versus not attaining full dominance over mankind fully escaped the men and women of the Empire, who pointed to verses in the Prolatian that free will ultimately ruled the actions of man, and that no other being, with power to end Creation or otherwise, could subvert a man's will without his consent.

All of this was laid out in the early days of the Calradian empire's days in the Tome of Prolatave, or simply the Prolatian. The cult was scoffed at with great malice and sarcasm by the intellectuality minded elite of the Empire's Senate and Praetorian classes. It was, however, embraced by the poor, driven by hopes of freedom and feed on the promises of a cattleman named Prolatave. He founded the cult, and was the first man the God chose to hear it's plan for humanity. The aristocracy tolerated the man for months, amused by his ineffectual rabble rousing and threats of toppling the regime, and refused to pay him any mind whatsoever until Prolatave and 120 other peasants stormed the Praven Tax Master's estate, killing the Tax Master and several affluent guests. The response was swift and terrible. All of the men we rumored to be captured and strung up on poles, impaled by a centurion of ill repute, Vladius. Prolatave himself was tied, drawn, quartered, and eviscerated in the market of Praven, the harvest festival cancelled for the affair. It is written in the Prolatian that he survived the entirety of the ordeal, refusing to renounce the God at every demand to do so. His position as the First Saint and the tradition of Prolates was cemented when, in apparent agony, turned to the infamous Vladius, spit blood in his eye, and screamed for the God to end his pain. As Vladius raised his sword to grant Prolatave's wish a lightning bolt struck out of the cloudless, perfectly clear sky and vaporized Prolatave's body.

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