Written by Demetrius Barrow

Otto II - The Builder

"Not all strongmen wield power from the hilt of their blade. To keep his realm together, he has wielded the power of an astute mind.” - Bruno of Lotharingia, political theorist, c. 1640

The final King of Haense born in St. Karlsburg, Otto Georg was too young to even recall the old capital by the time it went up in flames at the hands of King Tobias of Courland and his armies. 

"...Stone, grey stone, and the plume of flames and the smoke that came with it…” Those were the only words that Otto II had to say about his birthplace and the ancestral seat of House Barbanov. It was only so fitting that his reign would come to mark a drastic shift from earlier policy.

As the son of Prince Otto Heinrik, later Otto I, who was at this time an open rebel against King Tobias’s northern governor, the Archduke of Akovia, much of Otto Gerog’s early years were spent with his mother, Catherine of Carnatia, in the King of Mardon’s court in Auguston. Little is known of these first years of his life, owing to a dearth of sources, but it can be assumed that he was, alongside his cousins, participants in the courtly life of Mardon. If it made any impact on his early years, it was certainly little, for by the time that he was king, Otto could barely remember his time in King Peter’s court.

However, that may have been an exaggeration on his end. Haense had been restored in full by the time that he was ten, and he had no trouble telling lively stories of the colorfully dour court in Mardon, replete with corruption, vice, and sin. Some of these may have been fabricated- though an honest man at heart, he always loved to tell a tall tale- but he would always speak eloquently and with clear memory. Even at an early age, his mother could tell that her son had a sharp mind, so she spent what little money the family had on some of the better tutors that Auguston, and later Alban had to offer. Professors initially despaired at having to teach Otto anything, and in their evaluations they remarked how he was “restless” and “a loud liability to the education of other pupils”, but all eventually came to appreciate his sound mind for arithmetic, geometry, trigonometry, and rhetoric, even if other subjects bored him.

When Haense was restored and his cousin Stefan elected to the throne in 1613, the ten year old Otto and his mother joined them. He reunited with his father for the first time in years, and in between some of his formal court duties as a member of the diminished Barbanov family and his studies, he enjoyed a routine, normal family life. He was close with his parents and his three siblings, even for as much trouble as he caused, and he remained active, whether it be running through the muddy, poorly-planned streets of Alban with his friends or going on hunting trips with his father.

Otto’s rowdy nature came to define his early life. He was a large, big-boned lad who had the energy to match his size. He wrestled and brawled, much to his mother’s chagrin, and enjoyed playing soldier. He begged his father to allow him to take up lessons in sword fighting, and, hoping that it might be the only instruction that his son took easily to, the elder Otto agreed. Unlike in the wooden desks of the classroom, the younger Otto was far more attentive while learning swordplay and became a natural talent with the blade. His recklessness did continue outside of his lessons, as he soon began to challenge others to duels just for the sake of practice, but no incident came to serious violence.

With a disposition that matched his similarly-boisterous cousin, King Stefan, Otto became a favorite within the court of Esenstadt. In 1615 he was made the king’s cupbearer, and in 1616 he was appointed as a page of the court. A year later, he graduated to become one of Stefan’s many squires, though he only received direct tutelage from the busy king twice, and continued his instruction from his usual instructors. As he grew into adulthood, his penchant for drinking developed, and soon the street brawls he fought turned into drunken street brawls. This did much to displease the court of Esesnstadt and his family, save King Stefan, but it earned him the admiration of many of the commonfolk of Haense. Drunk or not, many found Prince Otto to be a good-natured, genial young prince who could speak to the average taverngoer as easily as he could the high nobility of the Empire.

In 1617, Prince Otto took part in the Santegien Rebellion as a part of his cousin’s army. His role seems to have been minimal, but it would have been his first experience in combat. He was able to see his father and cousin navigate the Haeseni army away from destruction in a well-conducted campaign of maneuver and quick marching, all the while the slow, bumbling Imperial army was destroyed at Castell and Trier. He was also present for King Stefan’s occupation of Adelburg in 1619 after John V and his army had died at the hands of the Santegians. Stefan, looking to increase his influence on a weak Heartlands, saw Prince Otto as a useful piece for his plans. 

Although the Haeseni army left Adelburg shortly after their occupation, Prince Otto was ordered by King Stefan himself to remain behind with a small guard. King Leufroy of Lotharingia, distrustful of Emperor Peter II and fearful of threats to his own shaky rule, looked to Haense to help stabilize his position. On the 12th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1619, an alliance was made between the two kingdoms, with a marriage between Prince Otto and Princess Eleanor of Lotharingia, a cousin of King Leufroy, sealing the pact. 

If Otto had acquired a reputation as a well-intentioned, if occasionally troublesome, prince, then his bride-to-be was close enough to the devil incarnate in the rumors that filled the ballrooms and salons of the Empire. Born in 1594 or 1596, Princess Eleanor had quickly become known as a domineering, intelligent, and ambitious woman with a quick temper. She had aggressively courted John V in 1614, just for him to choose her sister, Claude, who was less likely to try and exert any control over him. Refusing to settle for anything less than royalty, she did not entertain any offers until, in 1619, King Stefan’s own wife died and she put herself forward as a suitor for him. 

King Leufory, annoyed with his cousin’s antics, instead arranged to have her wed to Prince Otto, which she flatly rebuked. The dispute lasted several months, but eventually Leufroy exercised his royal mandate and ordered her to wed Prince Otto. This did not stop her from acting out against her husband-to-be, who she had not even met before, and on the day of their wedding in Metz, on the 25th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1619, she delayed her arrival to the cathedral by over an hour. The wedding itself was said to be a jovial event, but the pair only spoke a handful of words to each other throughout the night.

Prince Otto was well aware of the infamously cold marriages of his predecessors, Andrik II and Marus I, and decided to avoid the same fate. Despite his own temper and propensity towards practical jokes, he treated Princess Eleanor with a straightforward kindness and respect that endeared him to her over time. He remained in the Heartlands for a year and a half, and is recorded as having taken part in a tournament in Adelburg in 1620. In turn, Eleanor, older and more experienced in life in the Heartlands, kept a check on her husband’s rowdy outings. While tavern brawls and conversations with commoners in the street may have played well in Alban, it would have disgraced him in Adelburg or Metz, and his manners, while never rude, were far from refined. Eleanor instilled a discipline in her husband that few others could before, and when they returned to Haense in the latter months of 1620, the immature Otto and the overbearing Eleanor that had been wed a year earlier were thoroughly changed.

Life in Haense from 1620 to 1624 went well for the pair. At this time, Haense enjoyed a peace and stability that was not shared by nearly anywhere else in the realms of humanity, and so few official duties burdened the royal pair. Prince Otto did slip into some old habits- his love for drinking and dueling had not totally vanished- but for every night where he came home with bruises, he spent five afternoons fishing with his father or attending the court with his wife. The courtier Nestor of Pribizslavityz recorded how “the image of the prince had improved considerably, and to the childless King Stefan, he was considered the closest thing to a son.”

On the 22nd of Horen’s Calling, 1621, Otto and Eleanor had their first child, Otto Stefan. Two years later they had another son, Karl Ludvik. For members of the high aristocracy, they were doting enough parents and took an active part in their children’s early years, but the immense responsibility that was soon to come to them made it difficult. After their last child, Henrietta Louise, was born in 1625, the couple made an uncommon agreement: they would cease having any more children so that their household would not be deprived of familial closeness and comfort.

1624 was the greatest year of change in Otto’s life, but while his cousin Stefan’s death and his father’s abdication may be perceived as a sudden, potentially-destabilizing force for Haense, giving it three kinds in one year, the events were surprisingly well-managed. King Stefan’s illness had been known among his close family and council for over a year, and his death was expected, especially in the weeks leading to it. Otto I may have taken a few days to formally abdicate as he made a show of coming to a decision, but he and his son had spoken about the matter at least a month before even Stefan’s death. The soon-to-be Otto II’s only protests were that he and Eleanor be allowed to attend a wine festival in the south, which was brusquely denied by his father, who then instructed him vigorously on the maturity that he would need to bring to the throne.

So it was on the 12th of Harren’s Folly, 1624, that Otto Georg was anointed and crowned King of Haense. The ceremony was reportedly pleasant, if lacking in great spectacle, though one decision did stir some controversy. Princess Eleanor, delighted at the opportunity to receive the crown she had long-awaited, pushed her ambitions further. She convinced her husband to have her crowned alongside him as Queen of Haense, which he acquiesced to. No great uproar came from this, but many noted that it was a sign of immense change that was to come. While Otto was not the loose-moraled youth that he had acquired a reputation of being- the Haeseni nobility and the Church would have acted to prevent his ascension were that the case- he was not a strict conservative in the vein of his forebears, as his reign would soon prove.

As well-prepared as Otto II was for the inevitability of his rule, the challenges that he faced immediately upon his ascension were entirely new to him. In the south, Emperor Peter II’s war against House Romstun had occupied the end of of King Stefan’s reign. While the war was mostly over by 1624, the last remnants of Romstun control in Lotharingia stubbornly held out, knowing that surrender meant death. Prince Heinrik, the competent Lord Palatine and brilliant army reformer, was still down in Lotharingia with six thousand soldiers from the Haeseni army. This force was not a massive one, but it was a drain on a royal treasury that had already exhausted itself from King Stefan’s ambitious foreign and domestic policy. 

To make matters worse for King Otto, Emperor Peter, now freed of King Stefan’s powerful, overbearing influence, sought to undermine his northern vassal. With security being brought to the Heartlands, he openly recruited many of Haense’s finest officers and bureaucrats with promises of newly-conquered Romstun land and high salaries from the war plunder. Many took up this offer, and the sons and daughters of Haeseni nobles could be found in the courts of the south. Everyone from artisans to military officers to scribes flocked to the Heartlands to find opportunity and employment. The streets of Alban, which had been lively at all hours just a few years ago, grew cold and barren.

Compounding this were the severe setbacks that Otto II was also confronted with in the realm of foreign policy. Peter II, previously a puppet of his cousin, had started to assert his position more now that his hold on the realm was greater after a victory over the Romstuns. King Leufroy of Lotharingia, one of King Stefan’s most stalwart allies in the south, had been killed by assassins in 1622. The crown of Lotharingia, which had seen a number of kings in only a few brief years, fell to his young cousin, Lothar. Despite the threat of the Romstun rebellion having been dealt with, the true enemy of Lotharingia was itself. Within months of Lothar’s ascension, his many councilors, regents, courtiers, and vassals had begun to squabble among themselves, ripping the southern realm to shreds and giving House Romstun the opportunity it needed to revolt. The war had temporarily papered over these deep splits, but its end meant a return to the infighting. Lotharingia was no longer a reliable ally for Haense.

Of little fault of his own, the Haense that Otto II stepped into ruling was a vastly weaker, frailer one than Stefan had built. The high nobility had been gutted by death and flight, the army was seeing widespread desertion in the south, and the treasury was as empty as the streets of Alban. For the first year of his reign, Otto despaired at what had suddenly befallen his kingdom. Even when Prince Heinrik returned, the trusty, capable Palatine could not get his king to do more than review infrequent charters and review an army that had fallen to only a few thousand standing soldiers. While Prince Heinrik’s return was supposed to right the ship of state, the Lord Palatine died in the waning months of 1624 from an illness, shocking the court and removing Otto of the one man he could trust the most. The mountain of challenges that he now faced were far more than anything his comfortable life had prepared him for, and the drink soon returned to his hand as he spent half of his days shut in his room. 

Even more alarming than the capital was the state of many of Haense’s smaller towns and cities. Some had been outright abandoned, while others had only a handful of lonely, stubborn souls inhabiting their worn streets. The effort to repopulate these centers took years, as most favored Alban, but a census taken in 1630 showed that efforts had been successful.

Fortunately for him and his realm, Otto’s stupor did not linger over him for long. In fact, it may have been to his benefit. Although likely apocryphal, the following story has gained traction in popular and historical circles as a point of change in the young king’s life that set him upon a better path:

On a cool autumn’s night in 1625, King Otto staggered through the silent, dimly-lit streets of Alban. With few guards to watch over him and few retainers that would accompany him, he sang old tavern songs that he had picked up in his youth in such a noisy tone that it awoke those who remained. One of these was an old widow whose husband had died in the Battle of the Rothswood along with her two sons, and she had lost an arm and an eye in it as well. As King Otto passed by her small home, his rough, somber voice cutting through the crisp air, she barged out the door and began to chastise him for his behavior. Here he was, a king who could want for nothing, wasting his hours disturbing the peace when he could be restoring the realm as his cousin and father had done so tirelessly. Even if he were to drink himself to death, hoping that with him his realm would die, there would always be those like herself, willing to last through any hardship until the end of her days.

King Otto then asked her why she thought it proper to raise her voice to her king, to which she replied, “everyone says that you’re a good man, just in need of the occasional clout behind the ears.”

Whether it was from that lesson or not, by the end of 1625, Otto had learned a valuable lesson that would inform his governance for the rest of his reign. If there was no one else, he could always rely on the people that he knew well. His silent drinking turned into visits to the tavern, where the personal presence of the King of Haense, nearly unprecedented for the time, warmed the hearts of those who had remained in Alban and bound their loyalties to him. With Lotharingia in utter shambles, Otto used Queen Eleanor’s connections there to recruit capable bureaucrats and talented winemakers, craftsmen, masons, and other trades that were in want in Haense, and gave them, if not bountiful, extensive lands, a measure of security and freedom from competition in the capital. He reviewed the army frequently and made sure to familiarize himself with new recruits to bind them to him. Slowly, Alban’s population stabilized at 10,000, a far cry from the 28,000 it had been years early, but soon grew past that, reaching 19,000 by 1630. Otto II’s realm was not nearly as powerful as his cousin Stefan’s had been, but his tactics, as unorthodox as they were for the time, reversed the sudden and sharp decline.

One benefit to the relative lack of peers that Otto II had upon his ascension was a freedom from the factional politics that had forced his predecessors to adjust their policies. From Petyr I through Marus I, it had been House Kovachev. From Petyr II through Otto I, it had been House Ruthern. Count Vladrick var Ruthern, one of the architects of the Greyspine Rebellion and a powerful vassal under King Stefan, had been stricken with an affliction of the mind that left him incapable of exercising the control that he had. Duke Viktor Kovachev was one of Otto’s more celebrated councilors, serving him reliably as Lord Marshal, but his house’s reputation and power had been greatly diminished after the Greyspine Rebellion. Other minor nobles, such as Count Otto Baruch or Count Adolphus Vyronov, were generally absent at this time and also had little influence over the king. From 1624-1627 Otto even ruled without a Lord Palatine, handling most matters himself when he could.

Despite his perception as a people’s king, willing to sit on a tavern stool and talk openly about the state of the realm, Otto II was neither a fool nor lacked diligence. Alongside Ser Anton Kyngeston, Haense’s High Seneschal since 1614, he spent hours of his day reviewing the many grants, appeals, taxes, and charters that came across his desk. In many ways, his time spent fraternizing among his subjects was as much a means of escaping the boredom he felt at his desk as it was an intentional strategy of public appeal. The one area he did enjoy was counting revenues, which had come in at a higher volume as the realm’s population began to grow again. He was never a thorough enjoyer of the tedium of rulership, aside from maintaining strict, well-tracked budgets on his growing coffers, but he did what was required and left the rest to his growing field of bureaucrats.

By 1626, the realm, and more importantly, its treasury, had recovered enough for King Otto and Queen Eleanor to involve themselves in foreign affairs once again. Just as it had been for King Stefan, for them Lotharingia would be the principal focus of their reign. In 1626, the Daelish clans, united under Callan Gromach, had emerged from the factional disputes in Lotharingia as the victors. King Lothar III, who had accommodated the ambitious Daelish at nearly every turn, was killed in a palace coup on the 11th of Sun’s Smile, 1626, by a group of palace nobles who wished to avert the mastery of the uncouth, rugged clansmen over their affairs. This sent the kingdom spiraling into yet another period of interregnum. Emperor Peter, wishing to test the limit of his power once again, intervened directly into the realm’s affairs. He sent in an army to secure order in Metz, then called King Otto south to meet with him over the future of Lotharingia.

Queen Eleanor, traveling with her husband, had made her desires clear. Under the rule of her many cousins and brothers, Lotharingia, one of the most fertile, pleasant, and populous realms in Axios in the 1590s, had plunged into utter chaos after a string of ineffective kings. It was still a wealthy land, but weak governance had squandered its resources at nearly every turn over the past two decades. If her husband could push her claim to the Lotharingian throne, or at least that of their son Otto Stefan, then they could bring much-needed stability to her homeland in exchange for profiting from its natural and material wealth. If the Emperor would approve of this union, then it could accelerate Haense’s recovery tenfold and start a similar process in Lotharingia, eventually producing a realm that would be unstoppable.

As much as King Otto and Queen Eleanor excitedly discussed this plan during their travel to Adelburg- three different accounts from officials accompanying them confirm this- it was never going to happen. Otto was neither as powerful as his cousin nor as deft at the diplomatic table as him, and Emperor Peter well-knew the dangers of a powerful Haense. From the beginning of the two’s discussion at Adelburg, which began on the 21st of Sun’s Smile, 1626, he made it clear that Lotharingia would become the property of the Imperial Crown and would be governed by Callan Gromach. King Otto protested in a rage, furious that his wife’s birthright was being so blatantly disregarded, but he lacked the means to enforce her claim. Queen Eleanor, more familiar with the Emperor, if in a quite negative manner, and more accustomed to southern diplomacy, was able to extract some concessions. After ten years, she would be given the rights to the City of Metz and twelve other palaces and castles across Lotharingia. It was a bitter settlement for the pair, but they agreed to the terms on the 11th of Harren’s Folly, 1626, which were made official with the Settlement Act issued by the Emperor.

Defeated as the couple were, they did not allow this diplomatic defeat to ruin their strategic plans, or even just their time in Adelburg. It is recorded that the two lingered in the Imperial capital for four months, attending court and building their connections within the nobility of the Heartlands. King Otto even participated in a joust held during the first two weeks of Godfrey’s Triumph in honor of Emperor Peter’s coronation as King of Lotharingia. It is recorded that he won the first round against a wandering knight, but all records of his performance after are lost. In the trials of public opinion, he acquitted himself far better in this stint in the capital, and the reputation that he had left in 1620- a naive troubadour- had transformed into that of a competent and personable monarch. It was a great contrast from the conniving, inarticulate, and reclusive Emperor, so while his time in the south had indisputably been a diplomatic and strategic defeat, he had still emerged with his reputation enhanced.

Returning to Haense, Otto devoted himself to improving his realm, returning to the same tactics that he had utilized to near-perfection in the previous few years. Haense continued its steady growth, and by 1630 it had returned to its status as the most important Imperial vassal. Otto was acclaimed throughout his realm for the diligence and personal transformation that he had undergone, even if his popular appeal was based off of the same behavior he displayed during his time as a prince. However, his tireless work to simply keep Haense from succumbing to the same rot that had taken Lotharingia had begun to take a personal toll on him.

A master of his people and a master of his state, a master of his household Otto II was not. The exertion of his self-rule was extremely taxing, and there would be stretches of time where he did not have an hour of formal leisure. His sons and daughter were thrust into the care of tutors who became dearer parents to them than the king. He made formal appearances at the court when it was demanded, taking petitions that were deemed important, but this was done at infrequent intervals and often left to Queen Eleanor. 

Aside from playing an active role in her husband’s foreign policy, Eleanor was the more proactive of the two in matters involving the court and their family. Forward-thinking and progressive for the age, especially in the culturally conservative Haense, the queen caused a stir with the fashion trends she introduced. With many designers fleeing Lotharingia, she invited them to Esenstadt in order to do away with the dour blacks and browns that were signature to the atmosphere then. Bright colors: reds, blues, greens, purples, and golds, all featured far more prominently and began to become adopted by the lords and ladies of the realm. The queen even caused some mild controversy when, in 1632, she attended a ball in a dress that revealed her shoulders. Seventeen clergymen in Alban issued a condemnation of the act, but it did not amount to anything further.

For the household, Queen Eleanor maintained a firm grip where her husband’s was weak. Most of the day-to-day raising of the children was left to tutors, but she oversaw their curriculum and spoke with them at length once a week. She made sure that all of her children were instilled with an appreciation for the arts- poetry, painting, sculpting, literature, music- as was custom of young aristocrats in the Heartlands. Fitness was still important, but she put far less of an emphasis on a martial education, opting for a liberal, humanist, and broadly well-rounded set of subjects for her children. Only interrupted by King Marus II’s education of his children, the practices initiated by Queen Eleanor of training the House of Barbanov have continued nearly unbroken to this very day.

Finally, Queen Eleanor was a good patron of the arts in a way that her husband never was, even if he could at least appreciate them. Many composers, musicians, painters, and other artists from Lotharingia and Mardon had come to the Esenstadt looking for employment, which the queen readily provided. It was no golden age for the arts in Haense, but new poems were read and circulated, and well-tuned musicians played at every dance with enough skill as to be complemented by foreigners in the court. Were it not for her efforts, the kingdom would have likely fallen victim to a base efficiency and brutal straightforwardness most-desired by her husband.

With the Heartlands having settled into peace, as frail and uneasy as it was, and Haense continuing to benefit from the state of affairs, Otto II’s reign seemed to have overcome the early dangers at its outset. On the 16th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1630, the king himself remarked that “there may soon be a day that we will return our sights on the south again and claim Her Majesty’s inheritance in Lotharingia.” Whether hinting at future defiance against the Emperor, or simply a belief that Haense was in a better position to assert its interests against perceived Imperial overreach, it would go unfulfilled. While Peter II’s Empire may have had the trappings of a more complete state than his brother’s had been, it was fatefully weak, held together only by a broader malaise around the world. Its first challenge had been overcome, but its second would be its undoing. Falsely confident in his strength and still carrying the honor wounds of John V’s loss of Asul, Emperor Peter turned north to try and exert his realm’s authority outwards again.

The Chateau de Rochambeau, one of the finest of King Otto’s southern palaces, was a favorite of Queen Eleanor, who occasionally ventured there when she visited her homeland. It was one of the few properties that they immediately received in the settlement of 1626. King Otto is only recorded as having visited his Lotharingian properties three times: in 1626, 1629, and 1640, all when he had business to do in the south.

The Kingdom of Urguan, once Oren’s most powerful and consistent enemy, had been severely weakened by internal strife. Aggrieved by the misrule of King Zahrer Irongrinder, in 1626, the major clans of Frostbeard, Goldhand, Blackaxe, and Silvervein declared their lands independent and joined together to form the Kingdom of Kaz’Ulrah. Unable to enforce his law, King Zahrer did little as his realm began to slowly be carved up by smaller rebellious clans flocking to Kaz’Ulrah. A coup in 1630 removed King Zahrer and brought forward his son, Frerir Irongrinder, who promised to take more aggressive action against Kaz’Ulrah. Urguan could not do so alone, so he looked south for aid and found a willing partner in Peter II. Emperor Peter likely thought that his support for King Frerir would net him at least a strong ally in the region, if not a puppet, by the end of the war, so he took little care to sign a strong set of provisions. The Empire would effectively run the entire war, providing 20,000 soldiers to Urguan’s 5,000, paying for and equipping both armies, and developing the wider war strategy.

The war would fall hardest on Haense for a number of reasons. Hostilities began in the spring of 1631, at first localized to just Urguan and Kaz’Ulrah, but eventually spilling over their borders. Haeseni towns along the Urguani border were susceptible to Frostbeard raids, and attacks even went as far south as the Rothswood. The hypothetical Imperial army of 25,000 did not exist- calls for mobilization had yet to be sent out- so it fell to Haense to defend itself. At least twenty towns and another thirty farms are recorded as having been attacked from 1631-1632 alone, a staggering assault that the Haeseni army simply was not equipped for. Otto II and the Duke of Carnatia did what they could to supply their soldiers, but the sheer magnitude of the problem was too great for Haense’s resources.

Part of the reason why the Imperial army had not yet been mobilized and dispatched was because of the want of funds in the treasury, which was a fact that the diplomats sent to Urguan been unaware of when they made such a large commitment. The Emperor was forced to raise taxes and tariffs, issue war bonds, and take loans. Taxes in Haense, already disproportionately favoring the rich, only continued to rise on the poor in order to cover their dues to the Imperial crown. Bread riots commonly broke out around the cities of Haense as the urban peasants lacked the coin to buy it and farmers lacked the protection to produce it. King Otto and Ser Anton Kyngston had to debase the currency in order to produce enough silver to buy bread from the Heartlands and sell it at a subsidized price, but another Imperial tax increase in 1633 forced them to end the program. Thousands fled from the kingdom, but the reality was that everywhere else in the Empire suffered the same problems, and often worse in severity.

To compound this, an army of 25,000 was not just unrealistic to finance, but unrealistic to raise. While it had been feasible at the height of the Johannian Empire, recent scholarly estimates have the maximum manpower that could be fielded across the Mardon Empire in 1631 as somewhere between 12,000 and 14,000. An additional 9,000-13,000 soldiers over capacity also required the recruitment of many thousands more to make weapons, lead supply lines, care for horses, produce clothes, and a number of other tasks to outfit an army. Commoners were drafted to fill these roles, many of which came from Haense, taking farmers from fields and craftsmen from cities, and had to be trained back in Adelburg. This drain on the kingdom could not be easily replaced, especially when it removed an important tax base for King Otto, who was already struggling to help finance the Imperial army.

With all of these inefficiencies, it would have been no surprise had the Haeseni contingent of the army been among the least-prepared, but it would turn out to be the opposite. Although not inclined to military matters, King Otto’s grasp of numbers and logistics made him uniquely capable to equip, feed, and organize his army of 5,000 into something of an effective fighting force. Over the course of the War of the Beards, lasting from 1631-1636, Duke Viktor Kovachev would hold actual command of the army, but it was Otto’s efforts that ensured it did not freeze or starve to death in the inhospitable Greyspine Mountains.

The Imperial army that crossed the border in Urguan in 1633 was, in the words of Haeseni Captain Andrei Gryph, “lumbering, ragged, and eating the rags that it had, all before a single dwarf had been seen.” The Imperial Legion, rotted to the core with corruption and driven by the engines of nepotism and purchased officer’s commissions, was suffering from desertions and camp plagues. By the summer of 1633, when it reached Kal’Omith, the Urguani capital, it had been reduced by a fifth. Notably, only three desertions and fifty-four deaths by illness had come from the Haeseni army, whose king had ensured that they were well-provisioned with medical supplies and had set aside necessary payments in advance. He had even sold three of his palaces to cover the costs.

Disarray affected the Imperial war tent throughout the campaign. Hardly a military man himself, much like his vassal Otto, Peter II delegated the running of the war to his officers. However, unlike Otto, he could not effectively mediate disputes that arose from his top generals, so he resorted to simply choosing one side and replacing any opposition with those who would not voice dissent. For the rest of that summer and autumn, the Imperial army rarely ventured outside of Kal’Omith, only sending small parties to skirmish with Frostbeard raiders. Unfortunately, the army’s slow movement allowed Kaz’Ulrah to gain much-needed reinforcements. Wanting to prevent the Empire from regaining its footing, the Hordes of Krugmar, the Kingdom of Norland, the Kingdom of Santegia, and the tribes of the Warhawkes had all sent armies of their own. By the spring of 1634, Kaz’Ulrah had a force of around 30,000 to contest the combined 25,000 from the Imperial-Urguani host.

Unaware of the number disparity he now faced, the Emperor ordered the army to move towards Jornheim, the capital of Kaz’Ulrah, on the 3rd of Sun’s Smile, 1634. A month later, they encountered the coalition army at the Jornheim Fields, ten leagues from Kaz’Ulrah’s capital. It was then that, when retreat became impossible, that the gravity of their error had been made apparent. “Only when they were within sight of the hundreds of banners that faced us, had we realized our error,” said Nauzican Commander Owein aep Cynan, “We had not conducted thorough scouting, nor had we allowed our vanguard to stray too far to give us a means of escape. The King of Haense had urged His Majesty to do so, but it was brushed aside as a needless expense and endangerment to our knights.

Surprisingly, the Battle of Jornheim Fields, fought on the 19th of Harren’s Folly, 1634, was far from the bloody, decisive engagement that the situation and numbers had led the respective commanders to believe. At dawn, the Imperial-Urguani army drew itself upon a slope across from the flat plains where Kaz’Ulrah and its allies had deployed. Arrow fire was exchanged from both sides, and cavalry attacks were sent back and forth as the lines were probed. At noon, the Imperial Fourth Legion, in the center, was ordered to advance, but it met heavy trebuchet fire from several nearby forts and was forced to pull back. The coalition then sent forward several dwarven brigades, but they were quickly driven from the field by a charge of Imperial knights. The skirmishing resumed, but it was to be the only action that day. Seeing that his army was outnumbered, deep in enemy territory, and unfit to fight, the Emperor and his staff agreed to withdraw back to Kal’Omith and await a resupply from Adelburg.

In what was a day with only a moderate amount of bloodshed- 4,000 casualties from the Orenian-Urguani army compared to 2,000 from the coalition’s- King Otto and his army escaped without losing a single soldier. The only casualty reported that day was a spearmen in the service of House Ruthern who had stepped on a nail while leaving the Haeseni camp to gather water that morning. Some in the ranks, especially the proudest soldiers, and those whose homes had routinely been threatened by dwarven raids, were disappointed, but most were relieved that the army had not marched towards what would have been certain doom.

Few others seemed to share this sentiment. Although the decision to retreat had certainly been the correct one, this is not questioned by any serious military scholar, it was merely the better of two catastrophic decisions. Desertions continued again from the Imperial army as soldiers from across the Empire lost faith in their cause, but this was nothing compared to what Urguan was facing. Nearly all of the clans and their followers deserted to Kaz’Ulrah, for the Battle of Jornheim Fields had been proof of the war’s hopelessness. With only the Imperial army now standing between Urguan and an invading coalition, the Emperor decided to abandon his ally’s realm for the time, against the protests of King Frerir. As his nearest vassal, Haense would be where the forces of the Empire regrouped.

The diminished, if still mostly intact, Imperial army arrived in Haense on the 23rd of Sigismund’s End, 1634. Occupying Fort Vanir, a border keep half a league north of Vasiland that had been built during the Great Northern War, the Emperor and his council hoped to blunt the coalition’s advance and retake Urguan, which had been quickly overrun by the king of Kaz’Ulrah and his allies. “It was a hope that bordered on delusion,” said Garon Stafyr, a cavalry captain in the Haeseni army. Garon Stafyr had, like many in Haense, experienced the destruction that Kaz’Ulrah had inflicted on the north alone. With thousands of allied soldiers now joining them, they would have free reign to make the region utterly inhospitable for a large force to have to sustain itself from it. The battle outside of Jornheim may have been indecisive in and of itself, but the momentum had suddenly, drastically, and in too great of a degree to be corrected, shifted towards the coalition.

These concerns were not lost on King Otto, who went great lengths to prevent an inevitable tragedy from befalling his own army. His personal headquarters were at Vasiland, which was more defensible than Fort Vanir and had direct access to the main roads in the realm. He also ordered his soldiers to prioritize warding off Frostbeard raids against nearby villages over helping fortying and expand the bloated Fort Vanir. What siege preparation he did make was focused around Vasiland, where he had extensive resources and supplies devoted to. Some within the Imperial high command accused Otto of hedging his bets on an Orenian defeat, but his actions would be what saved his army and likely his kingdom as well. On the 8th of Tobias’s Bounty, the first of the coalition troops were seen over the horizon. Instead of confronting them in another battle, Emperor Peter ordered his army to dig in and prepare for a siege.  A week later, Fort Vanir was surrounded by 20,000 coalition soldiers. Another 6.000 bottled in the Haeseni army at Vasiland while the remaining 3,000 pillaged the north.

Almost immediately, the logistical problems of the Imperial army came to bear. Despite his promises that Fort Vanir would be equipped to hold the entire Imperial army, it was struggling to accommodate the 12,000 that had actually been assigned to the fort. The other 4,000 had been ordered to occupy a string of other northern keeps, while 5,000 Haeseni were still at Vasiland. King Otto had ensured that his army was well-supplied enough to endure at least eight months of siege, but the rest of the Imperial armies had just enough for three. Norlandic raiders sank over thirty different ships bringing supplies to the beleaguered defenders of Fort Vanir, and supply wagons crossing overland were intercepted by Santegian scouting parties. By the winter, the Imperials were starving and freezing to death by the hundreds. Far from luring the coalition to an unwinnable siege, the army had trapped itself in its own coffin.

On the 30th of Sun’s Smile, 1635, the scattered garrisons in the smaller keeps and walled towns near Vasiland surrendered. Two weeks later, the Emperor agreed to surrender Fort Vanir in return for he and his army being allowed to return to Adelburg, which the King of Kaz’Ulrah, wishing to avoid the expenses of prolonging the siege, agreed to. Peter II and 6,000 soldiers limped back to the Imperial capital. Five days later, King Otto made a similar agreement, and he and 4,500 soldiers returned to Alban as Vasiland was occupied. Otto’s bravery during the siege- he often stood atop the walls and subjected himself to enemy trebuchet fire as he observed their positions- was praised, and he had saved his army yet again. Of the 21,000 troops that had stood to resist the coalition, only 10,500 had been able to return home, of which slightly less than half were Haeseni. 

Northwest Haense had been conquered, all of the north was suffering from incessant raids, the treasury was utterly spent, all progress King Otto had made had been wiped, yet the Barbanovs had emerged from the War of the Beards as the best-positioned realm in the Empire. On the 5th of Sigismund’s End, 1636, Peter II was forced to abdicate after a military coup to his nine year old son, John Maximillian, who fell under the influence of a regency council. King Javier of Norland, wishing to avenge the earlier humiliations of his people at the hands of Oren, and desiring the wealth of the collapsing Empire, announced that he would be pressing on with the war. The rest of the coalition followed behind.

At hearing this news, few despaired more than Otto II. His kingdom had already been brought to its knees servicing failed Imperial ambitions, and soon it would be dragged into another offensive. Outcry spread across the north as news broke of the war’s continuation, leading to several riots that were barely suppressed. Walking a delicate rope between a collapsing Empire and his suffering kingdom, Otto chose to commit his efforts to the latter. The request for reinforcements from the regency council technically did not go unanswered, but the force that Otto sent was never going to turn the tide of the war: 200 knights under Ser Peytor Vance, one of his more able commanders. The rest were ordered to drive out continuing Frostbeard raids and prepare the defenses for a coalition push south.

Despite King Otto’s reasonable fears that his realm, which stood between the Heartlands and the dwarven realm, would be the next object of invasion, it was truthfully an unlikely prospect from the start. The coalition had exhausted its own finances supplying a massive army, which had faced its own logistical setbacks in the resource-sparse north. An extended conquest of Haense would only allow time for the Mardons to regain their footing and prepare a more adequate offensive. Instead, an invasion force of 10,000 would be assembled at Vjorhelm and attack the Heartlands from the east. John VI’s regents tried to assemble some kind of army for a defense, but a number of bankruptcies and desertions had ruined any hope of raising and supplying a competent force. In 1637, an army of 6,000 conscripts and mercenaries was sent west to stop King Javier’s army.

As the Empire was scrambling to put together a host to defend it, Haense was decommissioning its own. The treasury simply could not sustain the army in the field, so King Otto disbanded nearly all of his army except for a force of 500 cavalrymen to act as a mobile reserve in the event of emergency. With Kaz’Ulrah’s attention focused inward on consolidating its conquests, the Frostbeard raids had nearly stopped, with only three occurring from 1637-1638. The dwarven army had also withdrawn from Vasiland, Fort Vanir, and the connected fiefs after a series of negotiations led by the Palatine Ser Fordsen Kyngeston. They had never been the object of the war to begin with, and the king of Kaz’Ulrah could not ruin his finances on their occupation. 

Economic crisis continued to grip Haense, but it was nothing compared to what was happening in the Crownlands. On the 4th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1638, the Imperial army was destroyed in the Battle of the Bloody Road by King Javier just five days from Adelburg. Four days later, Aurelius Horen, a minor nobleman from the Crownlands, led an army of his own into Adelburg and slew John VI and his Nauzicans, proclaiming himself King of Renatus and declaring the end of the Holy Orenian Empire. The situation immediately threatened to devolve into a civil war, as a faction of Mardon supporters consolidated around Frederick Horen, Duke of the Westerlands, who named himself King of Marna and began raising an army around his capital of Bastion. Lotharingia and Mardon split into their own pro-Aurelius and pro-Frederick factions, falling into violence themselves.

In relative safety in the north, King Otto could see clearly just how disastrous the situation could become. Canonist revolts in Santegia had forced King Javier to turn his army back around to Vjorhelm before he could assault Adelburg, but he promised to return the next year. Pagan forces threatened the Canonist princes from all sides: infighting was the last thing that they needed. As the only man in a position to mediate between the warring factions, Otto put great effort in repairing the bonds of man that had prevented the fall of humanity to outside forces.

Throughout his life, Otto’s relationship with his faith was tumultuous and difficult to define. In his early years, when his days were occupied with drinking and dueling, he had hardly been able to recite the most basic of prayers and had been known to skip mass semi-regularly. As he became king, he made more of an effort of attending mass, public ceremonies, and engaging in more outward professions of faith. Queen Eleanor herself was not particularly religious, but the two were by no means atheists, just far too preoccupied with the management of the realm, and the time that it required, to devote themselves as other kings had. From 1631, though, the king had thrown himself in the arms of his faith as one of the only ways to keep his mental state intact from all of the crises around him. He strictly attended mass daily, even when he fell ill, and he dedicated an hour a day to prayer and another half-hour with his confessor. Icons of various saints were put up all around Alban as a way of warding off the ill-omens brought by news of the Empire’s collapse, and he ordered the construction of giant crosses at every important pass and road into Haense. 

In addition to the growth of his personal faith, King Otto also enjoyed a strong relationship with the High Pontiff, Everard IV, who had served in the position since 1622. Born Josef of Alban, the son of a cobbler, Everard IV was a native Haeseni and had spent time in service of Otto II in his government. Leveraging this personal connection and his own piety, Otto implored his former advisor to force the squabbling Heartlands to peace. Just as concerned of a Norlandic conquest of the south, the High Pontiff agreed, and over the course of 1639 and 1640 he and King Otto hosted a dozen talks from the various sides in the confused, messy civil war that had broken out in the ruins of the Empire. What emerged from it on the 11th of Horen’s Calling, 1640, was a tenuous, but workable, peace agreement. The forces of Canondom would set aside their grievances with each other to assemble an army to drive back King Javier, who was to launch his new offensive later that year. It was a reluctant, uneasy truce, not least for King Otto, who found King Aurelius to be an ambitious warlord and King Frederick to be a stick in the mud, but the threat posed by the coalition threatened to undo them all. That same day, a crusade was declared against Norland, with the objective of not just repelling them, but conquering them.

King Otto had mostly been an outsider to Heartlander politics in his early years, but by 1638 he was generally seen as a trustworthy, honest figure who had a grasp on their society. He would never be one of the Heartlander lords, despite his titles in Lotharingia, but his role as a mediator was unanimously accepted.

These peace conferences had also given Queen Eleanor, who accompanied her husband at nearly all of them, to turn back to her ambitious foreign policy. In late 1639, she arranged the marriage of her daughter, Princess Henrietta, to King Frederick. She trusted neither Aurelius nor Frederick, but unlike her husband she made her preference for the latter clear, especially after hearing of Aurelius’s ruthless, bloody conduct during his conquest of the Crownlands. The pair were wed on the 11th of Sun’s Smile, 1640, in a humble ceremony in Bastion. Queen Eleanor also established a betrothal between Prince Otto Stefan and Ingrid de Sarkozy, the daughter of the titular Prince of Ulgaard, a wealthy southern nobleman, which would bring Haense a hefty dowry. With Haense as possibly the most powerful remaining Canonist state, even if it was relatively weak on the world stage, its queen returned to crafty diplomacy and matchmaking, wanting to position it as the victor of the coming crusade.

Raising a new army was not an appealing prospect to King Otto. His realm’s finances had not really recovered since 1636, but if the war was to be won, it was going to be with Haeseni men and Haeseni steel. Stretching his resources to the absolute maximum, Otto was able to raise and equip a fresh host of 4,000 men, which was half of what the united Canonist forces would put out into the field. They were bolstered later that month when news came of the conversion of King Leo of Santegia to Canonism and his new support for the coalition. The combined army was to be led by King Frederick, who was by far the most competent commander of them all, but King Otto played a similar role as he had in the War of the Beards, quietly providing the crusading army with the food, medicine, and equipment that it needed. It was Haeseni oxen and carts that drove the supply lines, Haeseni siege equipment that was brought south from Metterden, and Haeseni nurses and surgeons that cared for the ill and wounded during the campaign, all organized and managed by King Otto and the Duke of Carnatia.

The benefits of sound strategy and logistics put the crusaders at an advantage at the start of the 1640 campaign. Over the past two years, the Warhawkes and the orcs of Krugmar had been forced to recall their armies because they lacked the means to upkeep them. A few pro-Urguani rebellions in Kaz’Ulrah had forced the king there to recall all but 1,000 of his soldiers from Norland. The army that was to face the crusaders was only 6,000 strong to their 8,000, and made up almost entirely of Norlanders. King Javier, although a brilliant battlefield leader, was less gifted in other aspects of war. As he marched against Adelburg again in the autumn of 1640, the army he led was underfed, owing to a crop blight that had affected that year’s harvest, and knew little of the crusading army that they faced.

The Battle of Rochdale on the 10th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1640, was the culmination of a well-directed crusader campaign against a poorly-managed Norlandic one. Encamped at the small town of Rochdale, a day’s march from Adelburg, the Norlandic army was awoken that morning by the sounds of war drums and Canonist hymns. Within minutes, they were set upon by a frenzied mass of zealots, out for revenge from the past decade of humiliations. King Otto himself fought well in the battle, his first significant combat, often throwing himself into the thick of the fighting with his guard. The battle was over within an hour; half of the Norlandic army was destroyed against only a few dozen slain crusaders. The Haeseni army, by far the largest contingent, had been tasked with leading the charge and bearing the brunt of the Norlandic shieldwall, which they had quickly overwhelmed and scattered. Glory went to the crusaders as a whole, but it was King Otto and his men who were the highest-acclaimed that day.

The crusader armies wintered in Adelburg, where Otto and Aurelius jointly held a series of games and tournaments to celebrate the victories of the past year, financed by the captured Norlandic booty. Camaraderie was built among the crusader ranks, even if the leaders would never be anything more than cordial with each other, and Otto remarked fondly on the time, claiming it “was a greater salve than the ambrosia of the muses.” The joy continued for him as his son and heir, Prince Otto Stefan, traveled south to join the army in the coming offensive against Vjorhelm. More bookish than warlike, it had taken some convincing for Prince Otto to join his father, but the latter presented it as a rare opportunity for them to jointly lead the affairs of state. Although the two had been relatively distant for most of their lives, they reportedly got along well during their brief stint in the south, and King Otto himself believed that, though his son was no soldier, he had acquitted himself well in front of the army.

The march to Vjorhelm began at the break of spring on the 13th of Sun’s Smile, 1641. A month later, they reached the walls of the Norlandic capital. King Javier had abdicated out of shame the previous winter, leaving behind his unready son, Jevan. With only a scant force of 2,000 to resist a crusader army that had swelled to 9,000, the new king of Norland could only wait and hope that one of his allies would come to rescue him. An assault against the walls was finally made on the 7th of Tobias’s Bounty, which was repulsed. Three days later, King Otto himself led one, which almost led to King Jevan’s capture, but the crusaders were again thrown back. Finally, on the 12th, a general assault overwhelmed the thinning Norlandic defenders and conquered Vjorhelm. Over the following weeks, Norland would be secured, dealing a final blow to the coalition that had felled the Empire and nearly slain the Canonist world.

In the peace negotiations that followed in Vjorhelm, King Otto made his interests clear. Someone would have to govern Norland, but it would not be him, who had no wish to expend more resources to occupy, administer, and pacify the region. That duty he gave to King Aurelius, either as a genuine belief that he was better-equipped to rule over the Norlanders or as a poison pill to give him a rebellious territory that he could never truly exert his will over. What Otto desired above all was an extended peace, so he demanded the continuation of their joint alliance for another five years, even if it was relatively meaningless, so that Haense could rebuild. The others all agreed, facing similar dilemmas of their own, and so Otto II returned from the Third Crusade a clear victor, perhaps the clearest of them all.

As is known to history, a great calamity struck the lands of Axios in 1642, requiring all of its inhabitants to flee to a new land called Atlas. Unsettled in the way Axios was not, hundreds of petty dukes and hillbarons sprang up across the continent. King Otto and his followers settled the cold south, where he drew up clean, clear lines as to what fiefs existed where.

The final great act that King Otto II would undertake would be the building of his new capital, Markev. In 1642 he appointed Prince Robert of Bihar, the son of Prince Karl of Bihar, who had served Stefan I and Otto I ably, as his Lord Palatine. Far less of a soldier than his father had been, but far more of a statesman, Prince Robert assembled a fine team of architects and engineers to build his king a formidable seat and city. On the 18th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 1642, the Krepost, to be the seat of House Barbanov, was completed along the banks of the great Czena River, which flowed throughout the realm. Early next year, the walls around the city of Markev had also been built. With fields unburned, farmsteads grew and spread across the new Haense, bringing regular incomes and harvests to the kingdom. The nobility began to build estates and keeps within their given lands, extending their king’s borders, establishing his law, and rebuilding their own powers. Trade, coin, and people flowed into Haense, where stability and prosperity could be found.

For the next two years, King Otto governed peacefully and ably, finally ruling a realm that was free from the squabbles of the Heartlands or the threats from pagans elsewhere. While far from the power that they had been, this Haense, independent and free to chart its course, clearly stood as one of the more powerful realms in Atlas. A future that had been in doubt at the start of Otto’s reign, and multiple times after that, finally looked bright. The great tragedy was that Otto would not live to enjoy this prosperity for long, nor ensure its continuation.

Otto II’s health, which had always been strong, began to fail him in the autumn of 1644 when he contracted a congestion of the stomach, inducing heavy vomiting and preventing him from eating or drinking much. On the 27th of Owyn’s Flame, he was moved to his rural palace of Baldemar, where they hoped he would recover, but his condition continued. For a month he battled death, but his stomach only continued to swell and inflame. Portly before his illness, he looked thin and emaciated at the time of his death, having lost one hundred pounds in two months. He remained conscious and in pain throughout this, and was receptive when he took confession and the last rites on the 5th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1644. Four days later he died during a sunset, which, with his final words, he remarked was “a beauty that has eluded me until my final moments. How blessed I am to look upon it now with my eyes.” Twenty minutes later, he fell into a coma, and an hour after that he was pronounced dead.

The funeral procession from Baldemar to Markev met many mourners, most especially from the common people who had lived, drank, and fought with their king. He had been no less present in his final years, often marching into the taverns of his new capital to drink with his subjects, inquire as to their thoughts of the city, and make recommendations for the menu. Until the very end, even when he needed it far less than he had, his immediate and personal connection with his people drove much of his time and being. It was far from the cunning, if desperate, strategy that he had initiated twenty years earlier to secure his realm. It had evolved into a part of his life and legend.

His funeral, held on the 19th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1644, drew over 25,000 spectators to Markev, half of them not residents of the city. Ser Anton Kyngeston, the now-retired seneschal who had worked beside three Barbanov kings in tireless, forgotten, service, delivered what was acclaimed as the finest speech that day in honor of the beloved king, whose death had brought all to tears.

"Given a realm that was near its end, His Majesty may have easily been overwhelmed by the machinations of fate that had conspired to collapse us earlier, and none may have judged him poorly for it. We may have gone the way of Lotharingia, cannibalizing ourselves and our wealth. We may have gone the way of Mardon, rudderless and decrepit without a strong leader. We may have gone the way of the Crownlands, subsumed by outside invasion and internal coup. Instead we stand strong, the envy of the world, but our strength was not built through evils, but through humble diligence and reverence to our Lord. His Majesty did his duty as king, did well by his subjects, and defended his realm. For it, he undertook what was to many an unorthodox path, but was, as we may realize now, that one, narrow window to not just our survival, but our triumph.”

Watching from a distance was the new king, Otto III, who had ascended to the throne the prior week, but had yet to receive his coronation. He had given a speech that day, but he was no orator like his father. It had come off to many as awkward and stilted, and a stutter and short stature had made him a less-than-imposing figure. He was more comfortable seated in a covered pavilion, where he could watch the funeral from some security.

 My place is at my desk in the library, not here. Otto III thought. But I am king now. Must I do what my father did? Or will my rule be done my way?

Thirty four years and four kings after his death, the kingdom of Otto II would bend the knee to the same Renatian warlord that it had dictated peace terms to before.

Dravi, Otto II ‘the Builder’

23rd of Sigismund’s End, 1603-9th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1644

(r. 12th of Harren’s Folly, 1624-9th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1644)

O Ágioi Kristoff, Jude kai Pius. Dóste mas gnósi ópos sas ékane o Theós. Poté min afísoume na doúme to skotádi, allá as doúme móno to fos tis sofías kai tis alítheias. O Theós na se evlogeí.

The reign of Otto III shall be covered in the next volume of The Winter Crows.

Written by Demetrius Barrow

Sigmar I - Silver-Tongue

“If he can talk his way out of every problem we’ve suffered in the past twenty years, I’ll accept a lost battle or two.” - Vladimyr Minathief, a tax collector in Markev, c. 1676

For the first four years of his reign, Sigmar Lothar did not step foot in his own kingdom. Recognized only by himself, his wife, Sophia Chivay, and a handful of supporters in Haense, the man who would come to end the Dark Decades, lay down the foundations of the Seventh Empire, and cement House Bihar as the ruling dynasty of Haense into the 21st century, was at his furthest from his throne on the 25th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1666, the day his uncle died at the hands of Aurelius, King of Renatus-Marna.

Born to Prince Robert of Bihar and Caterina vas Ruthern on the 17th of Sun’s Smile, 1643, Prince Sigmar of Bihar faced no expectations of inheriting the throne of Hanseti-Ruska. The chapter of Otto II was ending with domestic triumph, and with plenty of heirs, the mainline Barbanovs were under no threat of extinction. The Pertinaxi were not a feared power, but rather an afterthought, and if there was any man who could claim to be the first among equals in the realm of man, it was the King of Haense.

Not much has been left to us of Sigmar’s early life. He would have spent his early years in Markev and in his father’s estates just outside of the city. His brother Edvard-Audemar, born in 1645, was a close companion in childhood, as were dozens of other children of the nobility, with whom he frequently came into contact with. Even at an early age, he was noted to be a popular, gregarious nobleman. In one account, given to us by Ser Oswyn Brash, a knight in the service of the Count of Metterden, a seven year-old Prince Sigmar told his friends a joke so funny that it spread throughout Markev, where it eventually reached the ears of Otto III himself. The typically-stern King Otto is said to have laughed so tremendously that he fell off of his throne. Unfortunately, we are not told what this joke was.

Beloved by his peers and doted on by his family, the one place that Sigmar lacked any warm reputation was among the ranks of his tutors. He was not an exceptionally bright or hard-working pupil, instead preferring to sneak off by himself or with some friends. He rarely applied himself in his studies, never reading more than a few pages of any book or bothering to grasp the most basic concepts of mathematics, geometry, astronomy, poetry, finances, or even the Raev and Naumerian languages, which he, of any King of Haense, spoke the most poorly. Even age did not steel his aptitude; his teenage years were spent chasing girls and drinking liquor.

Uninterested in military matters and pious only on holidays, the one possible calling that Prince Sigmar discovered in his early years was music. Possessing a rich, strong voice and a talent for the lyre and the lute, he dazzled with his performances, which he often put on during holidays. He even tried to play in the tavern, but his father forbade him from doing so, refusing to have his son play the role of a common bard. This did not fully extinguish Prince Sigmar’s libertine tendencies, but he did not embarrass himself in front of high society. In a large field of young noble men and women, he would not have been particularly debaucherous, while his natural charisma and kind nature endeared him to all but those who had the misfortune of trying to teach him.

 At the age of 16, he went on a tour across Atlas, a curiosity given the ongoing Atlas Coalition War, which involved nearly every organized state on the continent. Given how little is known of Sigmar’s travels, which would come to last nearly eleven years with only occasional returns to his homeland, and how much of the available evidence is fragmentary and from Sigmar himself (who was known to add a dramatic flair to his tales for entertainment), we must draw some assumptions. In all likelihood, he used an alias, possibly as a wandering bard, in order to travel around Atlas without attracting any unwanted attention. According to the future king himself, he played in the court of the King of Santegia and made a small fortune as the head of a troupe that made the rounds to every tavern, manor, and town square in the Heartlands.

As Sigmar briefly fades from the texts of history, generally unaffected by, but not oblivious to, the events of the Dark Decades, we return to Haense on the 31st of Tobias’s Bounty, 1666, the day after the funeral of the murdered Franz II. 

For years, the thinning of House Barbanov, and the uncertainty it brought to the line of succession, was at the core of factional politics within Haense. The old order of the nobility and the Church had put its support behind the mainline Barbanovs and Karl II. Upon the boy-king’s death, it was House Bihar and Franz II, backed by the army and House Ruthern, who forcefully took power in the realm. Now, the latter king’s death had not only opened up another vacuum of power, but also deprived the primary power players of Haense of any viable candidate for whom to channel their support.

Prince Robert, Franz II’s elder brother, was acceptable to most, especially the old nobility and the bureaucracy, but his near-death from the Great Plague had rendered him frail and sickly. 

Prince Edvard-Audemar, Prince Robert’s son, was capable, but he was a stern, serious man who focused on performing his duties as seneschal, not building a base of political support. If there were any who would support his claim, they did not make their opinions known.

Prince Sigmar was even less of a consideration than his father and brother. He had spent his years safely away from the tragedies that had ripped Haense at the seam and ended the lives of so many in his family. No one had a good thought to spare for the prince who was currently galavanting around the lands of their enemies, wooing lasses with his lyre and earning minae with his voice like a common minstrel.

In this air of uncertainty, it was Franz II’s widow, Queen Tatiana vas Ruthern, who, much like her husband before, ruthlessly and decisively took power. Although she was by no means a popular figure, having lived in general obscurity before her marriage to the future king, she was an intelligent and cunning political agent. Taking cues from her late husband’s success in acquiring immediate power, she won (or, according to her detractors, bought), the loyalty of the army, presenting herself as the natural successor to her husband’s method of government, which had, above all else, favored the imposition of the army into civil life, rather than the other way around. Within days, Markev was indisputably under her control, the nobility were not in position to act, and she had installed herself as regent and her lover, a Rothswood monk named Karl, as Palatine of Hanseti-Ruska.

Although Franz II had bequeathed his wife the most powerful faction in the realm, he had also left her with a host of problems to face. During his reign, he had aligned Haense with the restored Kingdom of Courland, and its king Tobias II of House Staunton, who pledged to replicate the stunning conquests of his ancestor, Tobias the Conqueror, and dismantle the Pertinaxi Dynasty’s authority over humanity. Unfortunately, 1665 had seen Tobias II fail to replicate his grandfather in any manner, delegating the task of raising an army to his council and vassals, and failing to do anything as Aurelius gathered his legions and allies in Carolustadt. It was only by his Staunton name, and the diplomatic efforts of Franz II, that a coalition of their own had been assembled, namely from petty feudatories that dotted southern Atlas, rogue dwarven clans, and the feared Reiver Company.

Even with an army that had been greatly-diminished since the days of Otto III, Queen Tatiana may have been able to adequately defend the northern border from Renatian incursions while aiding her Courlandic allies to the east. However, the Rothswood clans, who had been a constant source of turmoil and royal breakdown in the west, resumed their banditry and raiding soon after hearing about Franz II’s death, as he was the only man in the realm they could trust to respect them and their interests. Tatiana hoped that her appointment of Karl of the Rothswood to the office of Palatine would mollify them, but Karl was a commoner, not a recognized member of one of their clans, and his life as a monk had kept him from forging many of the important familial ties that were so valuable in the region. The revolt resumed, forcing crucially-needed soldiers to be deployed to bring order to the western parts of the realm.

Finally, albeit of little fault of her own, Tatiana’s rule had no basis besides the support of the army, whose word was effectively law. Haeseni tradition did not permit the reign of a woman, never mind one who was not related to House Barbanov, and there were theoretically available heirs. However, the regent did not hold her competition in high esteem. Prince Robert was physically unfit, Prince Edvard-Audemar was too inexperienced, and Prince Sigmar was, in her view, a rodent who had fled the realm before the trouble had really begun. If there was someone to lead the realm through the crises of the Dark Decades, it would be Tatiana vas Ruthern, not another man of House Barbanov, who had failed the realm when it needed them most.

Fortunately for the Bihars, Queen Tatiana was not well-connected with the court, was not a particularly staunch ally of the Church, and, as stated previously, had no real ability to outright claim the throne. An opposition to the regent, primarily centered around the nobility, grew in the weeks after her seizure of Markev. Some were staunch traditionalists who wanted to follow the existing, if vague and unclear, line of succession. Some feared that she may rule with an iron fist, particularly aimed at the nobility who had failed to support her late husband. Some simply could not accept a woman in the highest office in the land.

Prince Sigmar, now in Carolustadt, became the focal point of the restoration of the Bihars to the throne. Having briefly returned to Haense in 1665, just before his uncle’s takeover of the kingdom, the wandering prince had made contact with a number of influential families sworn to House Bihar. In his meetings with them, the little-known Sigmar impressed them with his confident, open-handed demeanor and, in the words of the Baron of Drena, “an irresistible charisma that drew in even the most cynical of us.” While there, he also charmed the most important woman of his life, a bastard of the ancient, once-glorious House Chivay, named Sophia of Castor. The two would be wed in private, then travel back to the capital of Renatus-Marna, where they would live in a small, comfortable apartment made possible by their anonymity and Sigmar’s earnings from playing in the households of the city gentry.

Of the many outlandish tales from Sigmar’s early life, the most popular at the time (as well as the most unlikely) claimed he leapt into a pit of lions on a dare but was able to avoid being harmed because he smeared feces across himself so that he would be an unappealing meal.

Debate exists as to whether Prince Sigmar’s quiet claim for the throne was driven primarily by himself or by the Biharist supporters in Haense. It is clear that he came to the forefront of the movement in 1667, as Queen Tatiana and Palatine Karl released the scathing Edict of the Krepost, which has now been lost to us, legally banishing Prince Sigmar from the realm on the grounds that he had abandoned his kingdom in his darkest hour. It also rebuked his claim to the throne, though he had not yet announced it, and reaffirmed that the powers of the monarchy were invested in the regent. Few openly resisted within Haense, for Queen Tatiana still held the support of the army, and with them at her back she could enforce her will.

Unfortunately for the regent and her lover, the coming war against Renatus would utterly ruin their credibility with the army, not to mention the rest of Haense. In the spring of 1667, Aurelius and his allies divided their army into three, invaded Courland, and put its primary cities to siege. The lords of Renatus’s southern marches, eager to sink their steel teeth into the hide of Haense’s exposed north once again, scoured the borderlands to repeat the cycle of pillage and raiding that the realm had come to know. The war that the world knew was to come had now arrived, and it would again fall to Haense to lead the war effort against Renatus, whether it had been their design or not.

Unlike the two prior wars, Haense’s army was better-prepared, and the fortifications built by Karl II provided safety for thousands in the northern plains of the country, but her allies proved to be more hindrance than help. Tobias II had spent his time before the war hunting rather than fortifying his defenses and directing the many allies that the late Franz II had helped win over. In less than a month, critical towns and fortresses across Courland were overrun by the Renatian onslaught, while a sizable army of 8,000 sat within the walls of White Peak. Most disastrously, Tobias II failed to reinforce his Reiver allies as they did battle with Aurelius’s legions, leading to their defeat at the Battle of Hickory Hills on the 21st of Owyn’s Flame, effectively knocking them out of the war. By the end of the year, an army of 12,000 men led by Prince Tiberius, one of Aurelius’s sons, had penetrated deep into Ostmark and surrounded White Peak, putting it and its inhabitants, among them Tobias II and his army, to siege.

As their allies to the east floundered, Queen Tatiana and Palatine Karl scrambled to put together an effective response. The most pressing question before them was whether to defend their northern border, effectively dooming the wider war effort while saving many Haeseni lives, or marshaling their forces to relieve White Peak, thus leaving the northern communities to their fate. Ultimately, the two decided on a mixed strategy, wherein Rhys var Ruthern, Count of Metterden, was given 2,000 men to drive back the Renatian raiders, while Palatine Karl would raise an army of 4,000 to shadow White Peak and look for an opportunity to relieve the city. 

Later allegations by the Biharist faction would claim that this was merely a cynical ploy by the regent to curry regional support in the north while abandoning the allies her husband had pledged himself to. However, more sympathetic interpretations point out that Queen Tatiana displayed a wise foresight at this juncture: the war was lost the moment it began, and there was no hope that she could save her allies, but a slim one that she could save her people. In the following months, these hopes bore fruit. The Count of Metterden drove back the Renatian marcher lords in a series of brief skirmishes, effectively securing the north for the rest of the war. Meanwhile, Palatine Karl led his portion of the army to the outskirts of White Peak, where he shadowed Prince Tiberius’s besieging forces.

Not a military man himself, the Palatine could not make much of the little he was given. He and King Tobias could not effectively coordinate any kind of joint-attack against the Renatian siege lines, nor did he harass the enemy camps or foraging patrols. As the months of 1668 dragged on, bringing with it first the bitter cold of winter, then the muddy showers of spring, then the burning heat of summer, hundreds in the Haeseni ranks fell from sickness or desertion, all without so much as unsheathing a blade. News of the wider war was even less encouraging. The prominent cities of Arbor, Cyrilsburg, Jornburg, and Ashwood were all close to surrender. An outbreak of dysentery had ravaged the Courlandic ranks within White Peak. Key allies were cutting deals with the Renatian coalition to save their possessions from the threat of invasion. 

On the 5th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 1668, Tobias II’s body was found in a pit trap. He had tried to flee to the Haeseni camps overnight but had fallen in one of the traps constructed to ward off any Renatian harassers. His body was found by a Black Reiter cuirassier, who paraded it before the walls of White Peak. A fortnight later, the demoralized city surrendered, bringing an end to the bloody siege and forcing Palatine Karl and his army to retreat back west. As 1668 rounded out, the lands of Ostmark and Curon were subjugated by the Renatians, who stamped out the last of the Staunton resistance and sent the dynasty, which had once conquered all the known world, into permanent seclusion, relegated to the glories of history books.

Back in Haense, news of the defeat was met with outrage. Although Haense had not suffered so greatly during the war, especially compared to the previous two, it was yet another defeat in a long, unbroken string of humiliations since the beginning of the Dark Decades. Queen Tatiana’s basis for rule, the strength of the army backing her, was called into immediate question. Her decision to put Palatine Karl in command of half of the army was also met with scrutiny, as his inexperience was apparent, and his mismanagement had led to the wasteful death of hundreds of fighting-age soldiers without so much as putting a dent in the Pertinaxi legions. The ultimate peace agreement, made on the 1st of Sun’s Smile, 1669, was just more salt in the wound. Queen Tatiana agreed to deconstruct the realm’s successful border defenses and pay massive amounts of tribute, despite an empty treasury, in exchange for peace. The final insult came when Aurelius announced just a week later that he would be extending the grain embargo on Haense, which he had initiated at the start of the war, into perpetuity.

The sting of humiliation and rising grain prices culminated in a series of riots against the regency that had to be suppressed by force. The rebellion of the Rothswood clans to the west had also not seized during the war, and soon the realm began to devolve into the same situation that it had found itself in just three years earlier: a food shortage wrecked Markev, the west slipped out of government control, and the kingdom was diplomatically isolated. Three tenuous years of the rule of Queen Tatiana had only gone in circles, leaving Haense little better than where it had been before.

It was in this context that Sigmar’s prospects to rule, which had seemed so dim just a few years earlier, began to shine. Notably, many of the characteristics that had made him seem so unappealing to begin with were now viewed in a different light. Where before his lack of military prowess was a sign that he did not have the strength to defend Haense, now it was an indication that his rule would be focused on improving the lives of his subjects rather than hunting for glory. Where before his avoidance of the Czena War and the First Atlas Coalition War had made him a craven who abandoned his people, now it meant that he was the only Barbanov who did not have a slew of enemies in the Heartlands. Where before his carefree, amiable disposition had left him unprepared to rule, now it was the desirable personality of a king who would not impose his will upon the people where unnecessary.

Sigmar was not blind to the growing desire to see him take the throne. Believing Queen Tatiana to be a tyrant, and Palatine Karl to be a cynical climber, he wasted no time contacting his supporters in the realm and making his intentions clear. He would return to Haense to save it from the unstable cycle of child-kings and strongmen or die in the attempt. Convincing the nobility of Haense was not a difficult task, nearly all had been supportive of the return of House Bihar to the throne since the beginning, but the army was another question entirely. The recent war had been lost, yes, but would that be enough for them to support a man who had never fought and bled within their ranks?

On the 15th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1669, Sigmar, Sophia of Castor, and a small group of supporters crossed into Haense and traveled south, stopping at every small village and keep they came across the announce the realm’s liberation at the hands of King Sigmar of House Bihar. Moving at a lightning pace, accepting hundreds of oaths of fealty each day, only news of their impending arrival could travel faster than them. Fearing her nephew’s rapid advance, Queen Tatiana sent three different armies to arrest him, but each time he was able to sway them with his silver words and earn their allegiance. With the bedrock of the regency’s support abandoning it, the other enemies of Queen Tatiana emerged, throwing their support behind Sigmar. By the time he reached Markev on the 5th of Sun’s Smile, 1670, the King of Haense found the gates of the city wide open. Not a soul stood atop the city’s walls in opposition to the Biharist restoration.

By the evaluation of the Count of Ayr, who had accompanied King Sigmar on the last stretch of the march to the capital, the judgement of the newly-seated monarch was “just and merciful, as he had promised in confidence to us peers, for he had no wish to spoil his coming coronation with the blood that our kingdom could ill-afford to spill.” Pardons were issued to all of his subjects, save the Palatine Karl, who was beheaded in the middle of the city, and Queen Tatiana, who was sent to a convent to live out her final years. She would eventually die sometime between 1672 and 1675, evidently still bitter at the treatment of her husband’s legacy but at peace with her own deposition.

Sigmar’s coronation, held on the 6th of Sun’s Smile, 1670, was a hastily put-together event. Part of this was due to immediacy- King Sigmar and Queen Sophia only had the resources of Markev available to them- and part was due to their shared opinion that extravagance was unnecessary. Haense and her people suffered from the crippling grain embargo, and the series of wars and economic crises had drained the pockets of nearly all. Displays of grandeur would only alienate them from their new subjects and remind them that they had avoided the worst of the Dark Decades. 

Although Sigmar I intended to keep to his promise of maintaining Queen Tatiana’s government, he had executed her Palatine, albeit to no one’s protest, and needed someone to fill the office. For the post he tapped an old ally, Ser Matthew Colborn, who was well-regarded by the kingdom and signaled the change that was to come under King Sigmar’s reign. Ser Matthew’s orientation towards peace, diplomacy, and internal development promised a different path forward for Haense than had been the direction under Karl II and Franz II. 

Sigmar’s foreign policy began to see its successes play out during the first year of his reign. After brief negotiations with Aurelius, the grain embargo against Haense was lifted, allowing food and other goods to flow freely from Renatus again. The hunger that had struck the land was alleviated by the end of 1670, and the new peace brought an opportunity for the realm’s farmlands to be restored and repopulated. Haense would never experience a famine again on Atlas, and it was not long before “King Sigmar’s Peace” became a popular cry in the taverns of Markev and the towns beyond. 

While King Sigmar had won peace with the rest of the world, he still dealt with internal struggles related to the Rothswood. Haense’s returning stability and lessened economic woes had made the revolt of these clansmen less appealing to those on the edges of society who had otherwise been strong supporters, but they still proved a danger to many of the outlying villages in the western forests of the kingdom. The army remained an important political force, but it had been shellacked by the defeats it had suffered during the Dark Decades. Not a military mind himself, the king turned to the Count of Metterden to be his Lord Marshal and rebuild the army. The old veteran set about his task with diligence, but the endemic corruption and poor leadership meant that it would be a years-long project.

The disaster of the reigns of Karl II and Franz II had given Sigmar and Lord Palatine Colborn a sweeping mandate to enact reforms as they saw fit, with which they reopened the economy and exerted royal control back over the entirety of Hanseti-Ruska. However, within a year the old nobility began to voice their hesitancy towards any move that would encroach on their privileges. Sigmar had ascended to the throne not on his command over them but on their assent to him. Some centralization was needed to steer the realm towards recovery, but the proud peers of Haense warned their king and his Lord Palatine that they were to keep their levies, their taxes, and their lands. One unsigned letter in particular enraged Sigmar so greatly that even Queen Sophia was astonished at his outburst:

“Your Majesty,

I must first commend you on the wisdom by which you have led our people out of the turbulence of your successor’s reign. Your adroit hand has brought food to the bellies of your subjects and coins to the coffers of our enterprises. You shall have my everlasting support as you continue to navigate the ever-present challenges that we collectively face, and know that the estate of the sword will be the bedrock of your long and successful rule. 

That being said, I must advise against the unchecked expansion of the powers of the Markev bureaucrats and attendants. Many from that class work solely to further their ambitions, subverting the directives of the Crown when it may suit their interests, much to the detriment of House Barbanov and the greater realm. I fear that many of your councilors deceive you, and should their policies continue unchecked, the greater part of the nation shall rise up to see them replaced. With our realm so recently patched together after the wars of your predecessors, I should hope that you take the action needed to see this course averted.”

The letter was unsigned, but the threat and origin was clear. Elements of the aristocracy were not keen on the expansion of royal power, even in this time of need, and the crown did not have the strength to enforce its order. If King Sigmar was going to continue to reform the realm, even if his changes were incremental, he would have to prove his strength to his subjects. For nearly all of Haeseni history, this was done through victory on the battlefield, which, aside from a few indecisive engagements during the Czena War, had eluded the realm since the Third Crusade. Peace around the continent had given room for King Sigmar to divert his attention away from defending his borders and towards internal opposition.

Most of the old Haeseni aristocracy, qualms aside, remained loyal subjects of the crown. However, the Dark Decades had led to a weakened grasp on much of the provincial nobility, who were markedly less powerful, often newer members of the peerage, and far less obedient to the crown when they felt it did not have their interests at heart. In the west, it was the Rothswood clans that proved most difficult, but in the east, in a rugged, barren region known as the Sleetfalls, a wealthy landowner named Georgiana of Mehran had hired a company of mercenaries and taken possession of the small fortress of Leeuwenhof. From there, she declared the region’s independence from the Haeseni Crown.

Georgiana’s Rebellion has rarely been studied by historians of Atlasian Haense, leaving a dearth of proper scholarship. This is mostly due to the limited written record of the brief war, its rather limited impact, and the fact that there was little desire to sponsor research into the setting of one of Haense’s most embarrassing defeats. Time and distance from the event, necessary remedies for undesirable historical narratives, leave us with near-unanswerable mysteries. In the case of Georgiana’s Rebellion, the central mystery, debated more now than then, was whether it was sponsored by Aurelius or happened organically.

While most of King Sigmar’s council was in support of war, led by Lord Palatine Colborn himself, who argued that the rebels in Leeuwenhof were isolated and far easier to decisively defeat than the Rothswood clans, the Count of Metterden hesitated. Lord Ruthern noted that the mercenaries hired by Georgiana of Mehran were numerous, around 2,000 in total, and reportedly well-equipped and disciplined, especially for a company with little reputation. Calling themselves ‘Camel Bandits’, they neither rode nor used camels, had virtually no history, and were of an unclear origin. The Count of Metterden hypothesized that they were an elite core of Renatian soldiers, covertly sent by Aurelius to aid Georgiana of Mehran, while others believed they had been hired from overseas. Both propositions were paid some heed, but King Simgar and Lord Colborn both believed that it was an absolute necessity to recapture the Sleetfalls, and the advantage in manpower Haense possessed would overwhelm the Camel Bandits.

The Sleetfalls was a rugged, sparsely-populated region of eastern Haense that had numerous petty lords resist the authority of House Barbanov, not just Georgiana (although she was the most infamous and dangerous). Even by the end of Sigmar’s reign, the Sleetfalls were little more than nominally a Haeseni province.

On the 12th of Harren’s Folly, 1672, a Haeseni army, with their king at its head, marched out for the Sleetfalls. Banners of the Golden Crow of Barbanov, the Grey Mountains of Ruthern, the Red Griffin of Kovachev, the Black Serpent of Vanir, the Grey Bear of Baruch, and the Yellow Hawks of Stafyr, among dozens of other noble insignias, fluttered in the crisp northern winds, leading forward a green army of unshakeable morale. It had been promised that the campaign would be quick, decisive, and easy: it was the exact sort of victory that the realm so desperately needed after the myriad of disasters during the Dark Decades. As their march met little resistance, and the Haeseni army neared the castle of Leeuwenhof on the 30th of Harren’s Folly, the men and women in the camps began to truly believe that the promises made might just come true.

Septimus Aldin, a soldier in service to the Count of Metterden, was one of the few to note the problems that would doom the brief campaign in the Sleetfalls. 

“An illness that had stricken my lord [Rhys var Ruthern] deprived our army of the one commander who may have guided us away from the ruination of our army. Despite the brevity of the march, we found ourselves ill-supplied. The spirits of the soldiers were lifted by the immanence of our victory, but this supply of confidence, which was in far greater store than food and weapons, gave for lazy officers to issue lazy orders. Camp was not struck in an orderly manner, nor were any siege weapons prepared: we were told the intent was to storm the fortress.”

While King Sigmar may have felt the pressure to quickly end the rebellion, the decision that he and his advisors made to immediately commit to battle played right into the hands of the Camel Bandits. On the morning of the 31st of Harren’s Folly, 1672, the lumbering ranks of the disorganized Haeseni army started shambling out to their designated positions in front of Leeuwenhof, where only a few ladders had been made to be used during the assault. The deployment, which should have taken no more than two hours, instead took nearly four, meaning that it was midday by the time the army had assembled into formation. Owing to the narrow space to assemble, this process was not done unimpeded, and all throughout the morning the Camel Bandits had harassed the army with arrow fire.

Not long after the army had assembled its ranks, it was met with an unexpected sally from the castle that crashed into the front lines and sent them into disarray. King Sigmar was forced to commit himself and his bodyguard to the center to prevent it from breaking, while the left and right wings of the army, already close to the walls of the keep, were ordered to break their assault to save the flailing front lines. Unbeknownst to them, a small, hidden force lurked in the nearby woods. When the ladders were dropped by those rushing to throw themselves into the fight, this hidden force of Camel Bandits emerged from the woods and began to hack the ladders to pieces. Once this was done, they wheeled around and attacked the Haeseni army from behind.

King Sigmar’s council, fearing that this flanking force was larger than it actually was, urged their king to fall back to safety, which he did only after the insistence of the Lord Palatine. 

Unfortunately, as he and his bodyguard were turning to evacuate the field, the royal standard fell to the ground. The soldiers of the front lines, whose morale was only kept afloat by the king’s presence, mistakenly believed that this meant he had been killed. It took only minutes for the panicking Haeseni to begin fleeing the fight in a panicked rout. Disorganized flight poses a great danger to an army wishing to keep its members alive, but the thick woods and rough terrain turned this danger into one of the worst defeats suffered by Haense in its history. The surging Camel Bandits, lustful for the blood of their fleeing foes, took no quarter as they kept an hours-long pursuit. By the time that night came, the broken Haeseni army, which had numbered between 6-8,000 that morning, could only count 1,000 who returned to Markev. Sigmar only narrowly avoided capture: his signature fox-tail cape was torn from his back by a pursuing Camel Bandit, but he had shoved the man away before he could strike him.

The Siege of Leeuwenhof was catastrophic for the Haeseni army and King Sigmar’s image. Without the hindsight to see that his reign would eventually mark a period of stabilization, the defeated Sigmar locked himself in his chambers for two weeks, fearing that he would soon be deposed like his predecessors before him. In this time, he spoke to Lord Palatine Colborn once, to order that Rhys var Ruthern be named Duke of Vidaus, either as an apology for the debacle or a measure to stave off dissent. Only Queen Sophia’s coaxing could get him to finally emerge and grasp the reins of government again; she urged him to “remain faithful to the spirit of our people, which will not fail us in this dark hour.” 

The king and his council quickly concluded that raising another army to resume the war would be impossible under the current conditions. In the west, the Rothswood clans had formed an official armed organization, the Red Cloaks, which fielded a well-equipped, sufficiently-organized group of zealot opponents of House Barbanov. Under the leadership of Andrik Tosali, the wealthiest of the Rothswood landowners, the Red Cloaks had begun to attack army patrols in the region and raid fortified settlements with great success. To the east were the Camel Bandits, who were encouraging Georgiana of Mehran, almost certainly paralyzed with indecision in the aftermath of her stunning victory, which had been as unexpected to her as it was to the soldiers of Haense, to march on Markev and deliver the killing blow to the Crow.

As serious as the threat of invasion may have seemed just after the debacle at Leeuwenhof, neither foe had the capabilities of seriously threatening the Barbanov Dynasty. Dropping the sword in favor of the olive branch, King Sigmar keenly identified the weakness within the ranks of the Camel Bandits: their employer. Georgiana of Mehran had no real desire to topple Haense, much less serve as some sort of figurehead for the rule of the Camel Bandits, or for their hypothesized Renatian backers. The height of the “Countess of Mehran’s” ambitions was recognition of her noble standing from others, which Sigmar was eager to give in return for her submission to Haense.

On the 27th of Sun’s Smile, 1673, the woman who had defeated the King of Haense a month earlier knelt before him, swore her fealty, and pledged to end her contract with the Camel Bandits. Unable to use Leeuwenhof as a place to strike at Markev, the Camel Bandits were forced to withdraw, where they eventually disappeared from history entirely. Less than a year later, Georgiana of Mehran would reportedly be killed by a disgruntled farmer, or, according to alternative sources, a pet bear in her possession. Her title was quietly sent into abeyance and her lands were divided among three barons in the Sleetfalls.

The Red Cloaks were a more persistent nuisance, but King Sigmar found victory again behind the cloistered doors of diplomacy. Andrei Dune, the leader of Clan Dune, a small but well-connected Rothswood family, had remained largely sympathetic to House Barbanov, even marching under Sigmar I’s banner in the Sleetfalls Campaign. King Sigmar gave him a high-ranking position in the army, where he could assist in the ongoing reforms led by the Duke of Vidaus, in exchange for his clan’s assistance against the Red Cloaks. On the 15th of Horen’s Calling, 1674, a procession of Red Cloaks entered Markev unopposed, where they burnt a woman at the stake for “unnecessary fraternization with elves.” The mob was too small to take control of the city, and it soon melted away to the woods, but the message was clear: not even the capital could be considered safe anymore.

Acting decisively, knowing that his rule would be questioned if he could not even keep his own seat safe, King Sigmar wrote to Kairn Ithelanen, the King of the Dominion of Malin, warning him of a large, hostile force that had taken a decidedly anti-elven turn. He invited the King of the Elves to send an army south to assist him in dealing with the threat and tasked Andrei Dune with luring them into a trap. On the 6th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 1674, a large elven host, guided by Dune, met a rallying Red Cloak host at an unknown location northwest of Markev, where the latter had been told a far smaller Dominion patrol was en route to. The Red Cloaks were caught unaware and were put to rout within minutes; Andrik Tosali and over fifty petty lords and chiefs of the Rothswood clans were killed during the flight. As soon as word was sent back to Markev of the victory, the Haeseni army was sent to occupy the Rothswood and root out any last resistance. The threat of the united Rothswood clans, which had been a staple of the Dark Decades and an obstacle to royal control in the west, had finally been defeated.

Although he had returned to Haense with the reputation of a troubadour who lacked any political experience, a far cry from his militant brother, Sigmar I had effectively guided the realm through one of the most tumultuous periods in its history, when it seemed that the very survival of Hanseti-Ruska, as well as House Barbanov, was an uncertainty. Despite the setbacks he had faced, his gift for diplomacy, bolstered by his personal charisma, had allowed him to overcome them and retain the confidence of his subjects. The periodization of the Dark Decades is always difficult, as scholars are inclined to give several different dates, but 1674 marked a turning point, if not a complete reversal, to the long era of Haeseni decline and stagnation.

King Sigmar’s council was well-aware of the fact that they stood in a position to rebuild what had been destroyed and prevent the disasters of the past twenty years from occurring again. Lord Palatine Colborn appointed new tax collectors, bailiffs, and other officials in western Haense, where the law of the realm could be enforced again. The Duke of Vidaus, by now the preeminent soldier and nobleman in the kingdom, curtailed the power of the nobility in his army reforms, concentrating most of the right to field armies solely in the hands of the Crown. Prince Edvard-Audemar, the High Seneschal, put his energy into revitalizing Markev through several public works projects and tax incentives while reorganizing and recovering tax and property records that had been lost in the years prior. The rationalization of government would not be complete by the end of Sigmar I’s reign, but it was an important step towards modernizing and centralizing the realm.

The extent of Sigmar’s personal investment in his government’s reforms are debated. He was described by his brother, Prince Edvard-Audemar, as an “energetic and diligent man who solicited advice when necessary, of which was certainly the greater component of his decision-making, but did not fear to make his authority known.” However, he disliked many of the bureaucratic responsibilities of the Crown: issuing charters, holding court, settling legal disputes, etc, and often delegated those duties to his Lord Palatine. He was by no means incapable of handling these on his own, and when the occasion demanded he rose to it more often than not, but his interests were squarely outside of the traditional role of kingship, which he frequently derided as overbearing and stifling.

The greatest strength of Sigmar I was in his ability to win the unwavering devotion of the common man and woman. Described as affable, jovial, and above all indiscriminate in his selection of associates, a common refrain of Jolly King Sigmar was that “he held court in his tavern, issued law from the festival grounds, and directed the privy from his privy.” He and Lord Colborn found many capable officials within the classes of the commons and gentry. Brog Dhoon, a butcher, rose to become a popular Mayor of Markev and later High Seneschal under King Sigmar. Swithun Aldor, a cooper’s son who was afforded a brief education, became a prized royal scribe and eventually the High Justiciar of Haense. Both men, who would have otherwise been overlooked due to their ignoble origins, were able to become close confidants of the royal family and integral officials in King Sigmar’s administration.

It was difficult for contemporaries to not see the similarities between Sigmar and his predecessor, Otto II, who had also rejuvenated the realm through breaking the mystique of the regal veil and building personal, meaningful connections with subjects on various rungs of society. Both had also acquired reputations as troublemaking troubadours in their young lives, chastened only by the heavy demands of a kingship they had not expected to inherit. While this was not Sigmar’s intent (his well-documented personality was entirely authentic), he would have been aware of the reputation of his forebear, being born in the last year of his reign. Portraits of ‘Otto the Builder’ adorned the Krepost, and in 1674, Queen Sophia ordered the construction of a statue of Otto II, in the likeness of King Sigmar, to be built in the city of Torov. If the king wished to assure his subjects that the Dark Decades were finally past them, there was hardly a figure more fitting to draw a comparison to.

As the immediate crises of his early reign settled themselves, mostly for the better, Sigmar was allowed to devote more of his time to pleasantries. Never one to stuff himself at an office desk for hours at a time reading over documents, preferring instead to delegate that responsibility to secretaries, the King of Haense filled his schedule hunting, carousing, and the familial life. During his reign, he ordered the construction of four new palaces to suit these desires, building them by lakes, rivers, and ripe hunting grounds, primarily for the purposes of pleasure and enjoyment. This is not to suggest that idle pastimes were the sole focus of his efforts, nor that he was a slovenly monarch, but that his interests never lay in the minutiae of governing.

Of all the Kings of Haense, Sigmar enjoyed one of the more successful private lives, perhaps owing to his delegation of royal power to his subordinates. He and Queen Sophia, desiring a simple life at heart, shunned court politics and maintained a healthy distance from the gossip and intrigue that accompanied such activities. Treating the Krepost most like a home than a palace, the two built a royal atmosphere that was, in the words of Prince Edvard-Audemar, “more warm and inviting than the idealized rustic cabin in a snowy wood, though it did not lack for the splendor of the courts of the Heartlands.” It was a conducive environment to raise their children in, and it was of little surprise to their contemporaries that the royal family was a visibly affectionate one.

 The only significant source of tension within the House of Bihar were the many young deaths of the royal children. Of the seven recorded children of Sigmar I and Sophia, only three lived into adulthood (if one does not consider the audacious claim of Petyr Josef’s improbable survival, which was spread by the works of imposters claiming to be his sons, though that episode does not need repeating). Otto Sigmar (born 1665) was stillborn, while Petyr Josef (born 1671) and Thomas Odrin (born 1672), died during outbreaks of the plague. Their last child, Elizaveta Tatiana (born 1674), died of an illness less than a year after she was born. It was during these stressful periods that the relationship between the king and queen was put to the test, but each time they managed to reconcile.

Even before Sigmar I, it had been a established custom for royal children to receive a well-rounded education rather than solely a focus on either military or ecclesiastical studies. While Sigmar was no learned man himself, he appreciated the benefits a strong, multidisciplinary education would bring his children, so he encouraged each of them to pursue their studies to the fullest.                                                                                                                                               

Robert Lothar (born 1666), Andrew Stefan (born 1668), and Theodosiya Isabel (born 1669), were able to enjoy the active presence of their parents in their lives. Although the three still spent much of their time surrounded by tutors, for the responsibilities of the monarchy could not always be forgotten, far from it, Sigmar and Sophia took great care to ensure they did not grow distant from their children. The family ate together for breakfast and supper, vacationed to their country estates several times a year, and attended festivities and official ceremonies together. During the winter months, of which there were many in the south, the royal family could be found throwing snowballs and making snowmen out on the streets of Markev, where they were often joined by local children.

Despite not following the warrior-like example of Franz II, King Sigmar maintained an active physical life, taking great care to ensure that his more open-handed and jovial demeanor was not mistaken for softness, which would suggest a corruption of the body. He was a prolific hunter, and owned fifty dogs and thirty falcons, all personally trained by him. Over his many outings into the deep woods of Haense, he accumulated no fewer than five significant wounds, all of which came from a boar that Sigmar derisively named ‘Fattusk’, though it is under contention if his wounds, inflicted over a span of ten years, came from the same beast. Aside from hunting, Sigmar was an avid swimmer and rower: during the spring and summer months, he could be spotted in the Czena River, and during the autumn, he could be found in a canoe atop it.

The Renatian ambassador to the Haeseni court, the Count of Hekant, Thomas Roos, provides us with one of the more detailed physical descriptions of a Barbanov king from this period. On his first visit to Markev, in 1676, the Heartlandic ambassador wrote:

“The King of Haense presented a short figure, dwarfed by the large southmen that made up the guards around his dais, though his proud posture and well-proportioned features did not diminish his regal bearing. His brows, thick and dark, protrude over his large, aquiline nose which hooked at its tip. Pale blue eyes, a piercing quality of most of the Highlanders, were remarkably warm as they looked down upon his subjects: rather than ice, they were a cool stream’s rush. A thick beard covered much of his puffy face, and when his thin, pale lips parted one could see a gap between his teeth that he took care to cover with a constant flicking of his tongue. The king was a paunchy man, though not in such a way that suggested an insipid lifestyle, for his limbs, too long for his frame, moved with grace each time he gestured or strode.”

The purpose of the Count of Hekant’s embassy, the first permanent Renatian diplomatic mission in Haense, was to guide the realm’s future submission to King Aurelius.

Since the collapse of the Mardon Empire in 1638, Haense had eluded Aurelius's ambitions to reunite humanity beneath the flag of the Pertinaxi. Although it had found itself on the losing side of three coalitions assembled against Renatus-Marna, the large swath of territory within the realm made it a difficult and costly object to put under a post-conquest occupation. As long as the south posed no threat to Aurelius, and it remained a generally compliant trading partner in times of peace, then the King of Renatus had no qualms with allowing it to remain independent. However, as his age advanced, his obsession with restoring the Empire grew beyond political pragmatism. The weakened position of House Barbanov also made a renewed attempt of subjugation the dual-crowns a tantalizing prospect: between 1670-1677, the crown defaulted on its debts three times, much of the realm’s military power was in the hands of House Ruthern, and the Sleetfalls War and the Rothswood Uprising had exposed crucial flaws in the Haeseni army. For Aurelius, it was now or never to remake the Empire.

From the moment of his ascension, King Sigmar was fully aware of the looming threat that Renatus posed. Having come to his throne in large part because of yet another failed war against the Pertinaxi, it was core to his beliefs that Haense did not have the power to stand against the united Heartlands. On this matter, he, Queen Sophia, Lord Palatine Colborn, and most of the council were in agreement: the process of Haeseni renewal was not so much an effort of total self-sufficiency as it was a chance to bargain with Aurelius when the day came where he looked south again. Word spread like wildfire in the courts of Senntisten, and Queen Sophia’s many contacts in the Heartlands alerted her of Aurelius’s plans in early 1677. Weeks later, word from the Renatian capital arrived, informing Sigmar that the King of Renatus-Marna was willing to open negotiations for Haense’s submission to the Pertinaxi.

Ever a favorer of diplomacy, Sigmar I had already outlined his approach to the coming negotiations with Renatus. It was well-known the much of the Haeseni nobility and peasantry would balk at the idea of their home swearing beneath the Heartlands once again, but Sigmar’s position was such that he did not risk fomenting popular resistance against him; the same could not be said for a hypothetical Renatian administration. Additionally, he managed to mitigate the diplomatic effects of his kingdom’s prior defeats. When speaking with Renatian diplomats, he cited the depopulation of Norland, the destruction of White Peak, and the brutal treatment of Curon when doubting the efficacy of vassalage to Renatus, not fearing the reminder they ought to have given him of what came of Renatus’s staunchest foes. The bait-and-switch game he played worked masterfully: he was a willing and compliant future vassal, a defender of Haeseni autonomy, and a reasonably concerned negotiator all at the same time.

Upon the conclusion of negotiations in the autumn of 1677, King Sigmar had pulled off no less than a diplomatic masterstroke. In exchange for swearing fealty to Renatus, providing military service in the event of war, and removing all tariffs and trade barriers, Haense retained full internal autonomy, was exempt from all taxes, and was given the protection of the king’s legions. In exchange for what amounted to surrendering foreign policy, which was rendered useless at a time when nearly the entire world was controlled by a single man, Sigmar I had ensured that his kingdom’s recovery and growth would continue without interruption.

Sigmar I traveled to Aurelius’s court at Carolustadt, where he knelt before the Pertinaxi lord and pledged him his eternal servitude. The applause from the crowd of assembled lords and ladies from across Atlas had barely died down when a procession of sixteen priests, led by six children dressed as cherubs, who tossed ground herbs and copper into the audience, brought the crown of John V before Aurelius, who did not bother to even feign surprise. The crown was placed atop his head by the Bishop of Senntisten, who named him Emperor of Man, having only earned the title due to Haense’s submission. King Sigmar remained in the capital for the next week of festivities, where he was granted three private audiences with his new liege, and he returned home in good spirits.

Although some in Markev grumbled about the loss of Haense’s independence, and its role in the creation of a new Empire under the hated Aurelius, few could doubt either the logic or results of his decision. Under the umbrella of the Empire of Man, the spectre of the Pertinaxi was lifted, and the realm could enjoy the benefits of increased trade across all of Atlas. Santegia had been turned into a summer home for the Pertinaxi, Adria into a striking dummy for Dragon Knights, and Curon a centerpiece for its court schemes. Of the major Imperial vassals, Haense received the lightest burden of fealty, and within a few years it had recovered such that its condition was comparable to what it had been under Otto II. Sigmar I’s last major act of his reign not only completed his aim to pull his kingdom out of the Dark Decades and its aftermath, it ushering in another period of flourishing that would last for forty years.

In 1680, Sigmar I reshuffled his council. His brother, Prince Edvard-Audemar, had retired from the Office of the High Seneschal to manage his country estates, which had experienced financial difficulties after a few years of drought. Lord Palatine Colborn was named his replacement, and he then vacated the Office of the Palatine to Prince Robert of Bihar, Sigmar’s father who had recently returned to Markev after successfully recovering from his long battle with illness. For the last few years of Sigmar’s year, father and son governed the realm side-by-side, rekindling a relationship that had been lost for nearly two decades: reportedly, they had not directly spoken since the reign of Otto II, though they had corresponded plenty in letters. Both amiable, agreeable men, they continued to chart the realm’s course peacefully and competently, inviting neither scandal nor outrage for the rest of the king’s life.

Not even forty and in good health, it was expected that King Sigmar would have a long, stable reign lasting well into his sixties. However, on the 5th of Sigismund’s End, 1682, while swimming in the Czena River, Sigmar struck his head against a rock and had to be rescued by several attendants. Initially, it appeared that he made a quick recovering, as he awoke that evening, ate a small supper, and spoke with Queen Sophia briefly, making note of his headache but otherwise, in the words of his physician, a woman named Olga, “exchange pleasant little jokes, as he so liked to do with Her Majesty. There was no indication that he had suffered anything worse than a bruise atop the head.” As he went to bed that evening, wearing a cool, wet cloth over his brow, the King of Haense secluded himself in prayer, an unusual activity for a man who did not hold religion close to his heart. The next morning, the palace awoke to find him dead. A later autopsy found the cause of his demise to have been a bleeding of the brain, which had gone entirely unnoticed.

The funeral for Sigmar I was held a week after his death, and it is said that onlooking mourners numbered greater than the city of Markev itself. He had been a beloved king, most of all by his common subjects, and the stones of the capital were soon wetted by the tears of the anguished. Notable to those who had been present for the last several royal funerals, the sorrow was of a different character than before. Undergirding the tragedy of the young deaths of Karl II and Franz II was the fear of the imminent destruction of the realm, which seemed most at hand during the Dark Decades. Not only had the King of Haense perished, the nation itself was under threat of total collapse. In the case of Sigmar, his subjects need not have feared the future of the crown at that time, so they were allowed the grace of only needing to mourn the man who had departed so early.

Despite his simple words, owing to a lack of formal education, the Maer of Markev, Brog Dhoon, one of the commoners whom Sigmar I had raised to prominence, gave a well-remembered speech:

“I could not pretend that our lives were similar. It would be dishonest and presumptuous of me. Regardless, each time I spoke with His Majesty, I felt a warmth, a friendliness, that has only radiated from mine kin. Because of him, we have work, we have food, and we have peace. Stories of war-glory make for fine bedtime tales, but tales alone will not raise a family, and a family may be raised without them. He provided for us, his subjects, and allowed us to prosper instead of suffering for the cause of vanity. For this, he is the king we needed most, and he has made me proud to be a servant of the Crow again. He did right by us, so for his memory we will do right by him.”

Robert Lothar, now Robert I, was well-composed during the funeral, acquitting his conduct well at just sixteen. His father’s death made a pit in his stomach, one that he would take some time to crawl himself out of, but he did not fear the road ahead. His predecessor had paved the way for Haense to leave the turmoil of the past and propel itself into the future, but he had died before it had come to fruition. Emboldened by a sense of duty, rather than timid in the face of the responsibilities that came with it, Robert I prepared to finish what his father had begun.

Dravi, Sigmar I ‘Silver-Tongue’

17th of Sun’s Smile, 1643-6th of Sigismund’s End, 1682

(r. 25th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1666-6th of Sigismund’s End, 1682)

O Ágioi Kristoff, Jude kai Pius. Dóste mas gnósi ópos sas ékane o Theós. Poté min afísoume na doúme to skotádi, allá as doúme móno to fos tis sofías kai tis alítheias. O Theós na se evlogeí.

The reign of Robert I shall be covered in the next volume of The Winter Crows.

PUBLISHED  BY

ERIKA KORTREVICH

577 E.S. 

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OUR ANCESTORS LOOKED to the heavens and derived meaning from the stars, believing the Randunduz, the constellations, to be the realms of the mortal gods. As Canonist teachings spread and Dulonian folklore faded into obscurity, we nonetheless maintained the Zodiac as a metaphor for spiritual truths, reflecting the Creator’s orderly design. While the faithful’s trust remains in Godan alone, not in celestial omens, and the Zodiac’s imagery is subordinate to the Holy Scrolls, we can nonetheless look to the stars as a means of secondary revelation. Illuminating—not dictating—the Creator’s plans.

This was the realisation I came to while travelling in the lands of Ba’as, when the asterism Karolus made itself known to me. King Karl IV ‘the Pious’ pointed the way home, and I knew that he would wish any astrological system to stay in keeping with Godan’s teachings. Thus, through extensive research and in consultation with Rhenyari astronomers, I have developed a system to chart the sky at a specific moment in time and interpret the findings. This is most useful for the creation of natal charts, creating an imprint of the sky at the moment of a person’s birth, but the system can also be used for other events or portents.

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I

AN ASTROLOGER’S TOOLS combine astronomical observation with symbolic interpretation to create natal charts, which map celestial positions at the moment of birth. There are dozens of instruments that might be used, but the most common and useful are those described below.

EPHEMERIS TABLES

These detailed tables record celestial positions at specific times, serving as the foundational data for natal charts. By referencing an ephemeris, astrologers can note the exact locations of the Sun, Moon, and comets in their respective zodiac signs on an exact date. More complex ephemerides also show lunar phases and celestial aspects, enabling precise chart calculations. 

An ephemeris created by Erika Kortrevich.

ASTROLABES

Astrolabes function as portable celestial calculators. Their rotating rete (star map) and engraved tympan (coordinates) help to convert terrene time into sidereal time, which is critical for aligning birth charts with the Zodiac. By setting the astrolabe to a birth date and location, practitioners can determine house cusps and celestial ascendants. The navicula, a specialised mariner’s astrolabe, can aid in calculating this at sea, which is valuable for constructing natal charts during long voyages—particularly intercontinental exoduses that we see occurring every century or so.

SUNDIALS

Sundials provide the solar time essential for accurate natal charts. A sundial’s gnomon (shadow-casting rod) ensures precise noon markers, meaning that astrologers can anchor the Sun’s position in the Midheaven and use this as a starting point to chart the other celestial bodies.

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II

CREATING AND INTERPRETING A

A blank natal chart.

A NATAL CHART is a circular record of the heavens at the moment of a person’s birth. The three main components are:

I.  The zodiac wheel, consisting of seven zodiac signs and seven houses;

II. The celestial bodies, with their placements represented by glyphs within the wheel; and 

III. The aspects, which are lines connecting the celestial bodies across the natal chart, showing the relationships between them.

The essential information for creating a natal chart is one’s exact date of birth. From there, the astrologer is able to read an ephemeris to determine the placement of the celestial bodies and translate that information into a natal chart. Once a visual representation has been made, it is open to the astrologer to begin making interpretations, looking for recurring themes.

Firstly, the astrologer would consider the overall pattern of the natal chart. This involves looking at the distributions of celestial bodies between the hemispheres (north-south and east-west), and the elements and modalities of the zodiac signs the celestial bodies are placed in. The astrologer would then examine the angles of the chart, those being the Ascendant, Descendant, Midheaven, and Nadir. 

From there, the astrologer is able to interpret the Primal Triad, otherwise known as the ‘Big Three’—the Sun sign, Moon sign, and Ascendant. These are considered the most influential parts of an individual’s natal chart, but it is also important to assess the placement of the other celestial bodies. This involves looking at the placement of each celestial body in its respective zodiac constellation and house. The celestial body represents what is being influenced, the zodiac is how that energy is expressed, and the house is where that energy is being affected. Once the houses have been established, the astrologer can also analyse the dignity of each celestial body; those being the domicile, exaltation, detriment, and fall.

Finally, the astrologer examines the aspects between the celestial bodies, determining the relationships between them and what this could mean for an individual’s personality and life path. All of this information is presented in a comprehensive reading accompanied with diagrams.

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III

GATHERING ACCURATE

IT IS INCUMBENT UPON the parents to keep a record of the exact date their children were born. There are 14 equal months in the Sigmundic Calendar, though these months are recognised in pairs to keep conformity with the Imperial Calendar which superseded it in the 16th century. 

Wzuvar ag Byvca | winter

Jula ag Piov | spring

Vzmey ag Hyff | spring

Gronna ag Droba | summer

Tov ag Yermey | summer

Msitza ag Dargund | autumn

Joma ag Umund | winter

Each of the seven month-pairs consists of 24 days. A parent must note the exact day and month in order to create an accurate birth chart. Once that information is gathered, one need only trace a line on an ephemeris to discover the various parts of a natal chart.

Ephemeris of an individual born on the 18th of Msitza ag Dargund.

For example, someone born on the 18th of Msitza ag Dargund would have the Hero as their Sun sign, Queen as their Moon sign, and Queen as their Ascendant. Their Tova would be in Comet, Druka in Sea and Ybis in Wanderer.

1] Sigmundic Calendar and Haeseni Zodiac.

2] Seasons of Haense.

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IV

THERE ARE THE LUMINARIES—the Sun and Moon—and the three comets—Tova, Druka, and Ybis. Together, they make up the five celestial bodies that the ancient Haeseni tracked across the sky. Each celestial body represents specific energies and traits that can be interpreted. In terms of a natal chart, the celestial bodies represent what is being influenced.

The celestial bodies, and indeed, the wider cosmos, find their foundation in Dulonian folklore. There is Asseran the Sun-Father, Sindhor the Earth-Mother, and their son, Nikul the Moon. The myth of the Thousand Year War between Asseran and Nikul explains the separation of day and night, the sun’s blinding brightness, and the moon’s craters (believed to be wounds from the final battle). It also establishes the origin of stars as deity-generals from both sides of the cosmic conflict, forever positioned in the night sky as the zodiac and other constellations.

The Sun is linked with core identity and ego in recognition of Asseran being the raging core from which all energy is formed.

The Moon, on the other hand, represents one’s emotions and subconscious, reflecting Nikul’s ultimate sacrifice to save mortalkind from Ybis’ tyranny in the myth of the War of Ybis. The Moon as a celestial body is not to be confused with Nikul the Moon as a distinct constellation in the Haeseni Zodiac.

The three comets Tova, Druka, and Ybis are the sons of Nikul and Morrig in Dulonian folklore. It follows that Haeseni astronomers, when charting repeating phenomena in the night sky, would name them for the brother-comets of legend. As the tale goes, Ybis sought a greater station than that granted to him by his parents; he wished to join his fellow celestials as equals, not merely as a gift to mortalkind. 

When his father refused his request, Ybis flew into a rage. He first slaughtered his brother Druka by causing him to fall to his death—the breaking apart of Druka’s body is believed to be the great meteor showers seen in the night skies. Of course, for the purposes of astrology, the comet Druka remains whole as it rotates across the sky. Ybis then chased Tova to the outer edges of existence; the movement of Tova through the heavens is meant to represent his flight. Finally, at the conclusion of Ybis’ war, his great-grandfather Garmund cast him to the farthest reaches of Styniya (the edge of existence) to be imprisoned in a golden cage. Ybis’ movement—not to be confused with Ybis the Comet in the Haeseni Zodiac—therefore represents this.

Tova, the White Comet and God of Prosperity, is linked with prosperity, luck, and growth in one’s natal chart.

Druka, the Purple Comet, symbolises wisdom, innovation, and intuition, considering he is the God of Wisdom.

Ybis, once the God of Courage but now known as the Fallen Comet, nonetheless continues to represent courage, action, and drive within Haeseni astrology.

Sun (or Asserundu) | core identity, ego

Moon (or Nikurundu) | emotions, subconscious

Tova | prosperity, luck, growth

Druka | wisdom, innovation, intuition

Ybis | courage, action, drive

3] Haeseni Mythologie.

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V

THE HAESENI

THERE ARE SEVEN ZODIAC SIGNS in total, each of the constellations tied with a mythical figure from Dulonian folklore. As the celestial bodies move through the zodiac signs, they define how the celestial energy is expressed.

Many Haeseni are already familiar with the zodiac, recognising traits in individuals born under specific signs. When someone is  “born under” a sign, this is in reference to someone’s Sun sign, the most widely recognised of the Primal Triad.

Nikul the Moon | joviality; contentedness; desire to please; susceptibility to manipulation.

Morrighein the Queen | leadership; altruism; selflessness.

Ybis the Comet | ruthlessness; stubbornness.

Kostana the Wind | beauty; captivation; vanity; outspokenness; confidence; prominence.

Haruthrow Wanderer | creativity; joy, mirth; amicability; inspiration; innovation; charisma.

Odrin the Hero | foolishness, hastiness; bravery; strength; stalwartness. 

Pisktro the Sea | serenity, composure, tranquility; wisdom; grace; discernment, insight.

4] The Haeseni Zodiac.

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VI

THE ELEMENTS (Fire, Earth, Air, and Water) play a significant role in natal chart interpretation, providing insight into an individual’s personality, tendencies, and overall energy.

When interpreting a natal chart, astrologers consider the distribution of celestial bodies among the elements. For example, a grouping of celestial bodies in zodiac signs of the same element indicates a strong emphasis on that element’s traits.

The characteristics of the elements impart distinct qualities.

Fire (Queen and Comet) | passion, energy, enthusiasm, and creativity

Earth (Wanderer) | practicality, stability, connection to the tangible world

Air (Wind, Hero) | intellect, communication, social interaction

Water (Moon, Sea) | emotion, intuition, and depth

When analysing a natal chart, an astrologer should consider these elements because they can indicate personality tendencies. A lack of an element may point to areas of challenge or growth for an individual. The elements also interact with other chart factors, such as the modalities of zodiacs (cardinal, fixed, mutable) to provide a more nuanced interpretation. Furthermore, the placement of celestial bodies within elemental signs can reveal how a person expresses certain traits or energies.

5] A Treatise on Northern Medicine.

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VII

THE MODALITIES (or qualities) of zodiac signs—cardinal, fixed, and mutable—describe how each sign expresses its energy and interacts with the world. These modalities are tied to the cycle of the seasons and represent different phases of creation, stability, and transformation.

Cardinal signs represent initiation, creation, and leadership. They mark the beginning of seasons (the Queen being the opening of spring and the Hero being the opening of autumn). Cardinal signs tend to take charge and start new projects.

Fixed signs represent stability, preservation, and determination, and could also be described as stubborn. These signs maintain what is already in motion (the status quo) rather than forging new paths or changing directions. The Comet being a fixed sign is somewhat ironic, given Ybis’ figure as a disruptor of the natural order, but it is likely the Comet that represents the more stubborn energy of fixed signs.

Mutable signs represent adaptability, transformation, and flexibility. These signs are able to adapt to change and transition easily.

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VIII

ANALYSING THE

LOOKING TO THE HEMISPHERES in a natal chart is the first glimpse an astrologer can have into a person’s true nature. A cluster of celestial bodies in one hemisphere may indicate a particular focus area.

Natal charts are traditionally oriented with the north at the bottom of the chart due to the way the sky is viewed from the plane we stand on. This orientation reflects the celestial sphere as seen from the perspective of an observer on the ground, where the north sky appears below the horizon.

The Northern hemisphere represents one’s personal and internal focus.

The Southern hemisphere is one’s external focus, career, and public life.

The Eastern hemisphere is the realm of independence and self-motivation.

The Western hemisphere shows reciprocity, collaboration, and prioritising others.

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IX

THE ASCENDANT, DESCENDANT, MIDHEAVEN, AND NADIR are collectively known as the four angles of an astrological chart. These four points are crucial in natal chart interpretation, dividing the chart into quadrants and representing key areas of an individual’s life and personality. They can be calculated using tools like astrolabes, but the most common way is to find the Ascendant on an ephemeris table and work in a clockwise direction, indicating the movement of the sky from east to west.

The Ascendant (sometimes known as rising sign because it is the sign on the eastern horizon at the time of birth) shows outward personality and first impressions. It is the mask worn in public and how one presents oneself to the world.

The Descendant is the revealer of relationships and partnerships, showing how one relates to others, and the qualities one seeks in a partner.

The Midheaven is linked with career and public life, long term goals and aspirations, social standing and reputation.

Meanwhile, the Nadir shows home and family life, one’s private self and inner world, their roots and foundations, childhood and early conditioning. It is located at the bottom of the chart for this very reason.

Together, these four points form the angles of the natal chart, providing a framework for interpreting the various aspects of an individual’s life and personality. They offer insights into how a person presents themselves to the world, relates to others, pursues their goals, and finds inner security.

This is done by comparing the qualities of the zodiac sign with the areas of life that each angle represents. For example, a Nadir Comet might indicate a tumultuous home life with a high possibility of tension and stubbornness between an individual and their family.

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THE PRIMAL TRIAD or “Big Three” are the zodiac signs that form the centre of an individual’s personality. Even if one were to forgo creating an entire natal chart, simply knowing the Primal Triad is often enough to get a sense of a person.

Ascendant sign | the way one presents themselves to others

Sun sign | core identity and ego

Moon sign | how one processes emotions and seeks comfort

The Primal Triad must also be interpreted in light of other parts of an individual’s natal chart. For example, if one were to have a Descendant Wanderer and a Moon in Comet, this shows an amicable approach to relationships and a fierce loyalty. The stubbornness of the Comet might suggest that, while one would be intensely loyal, they would also hold their friends to high standards and lash out if they felt as though their emotional needs were not being met.

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ESSENTIAL DIGNITIES refer to the relative strength or weakness of a celestial body based on its zodiacal position. A strong dignity is reliable and influential whereas a weak dignity indicates challenges and areas requiring further effort.

The domicile is where a celestial body is in the sign it rules and is considered to be at its strongest.

The exaltation is where a celestial body is honoured and functions well. The celestial body’s traits are enhanced but sometimes over-emphasised.

The detriment is the opposite sign of a planet’s domicile, where it is at its least comfortable. While in its detriment, celestial bodies would struggle to express its energy

The fall is the opposite sign of a celestial body’s exaltation, where it is weakened. Celestial bodies are unpredictable and less effective while in its fall.

The dignities are derived from the alliances and rivalries between the zodiac signs, which are in turn sourced from Dulonian mythology.

The Wanderer is the domicile of the Sun because Haruthrow is an Asserandz god, the Asserandz being the generals of Asseran the Sun-Father during the war between Asseran and his son, Nikul. Similarly, Kostana is also an Asserandz deity, meaning that the Sun is in exaltation when it is in the sign of the Wind. It makes the most sense for the Moon to be the Sun’s detriment, not only because of the natural opposites of the celestial bodies, but also because of the deific war between Asseran and Nikul. Finally, the Hero is the rival of the Wind, and the fall is the opposite of exaltation.

The Moon as a celestial body is at its strongest when it is in the constellation of the Moon, which is why the zodiac of the Moon is, uniquely, both its domicile and its exaltation. The Wanderer serves as both the detriment and fall due to the Wanderer being the zodiac of Tov ag Yermey, a summer month, compared to the Moon’s Wzuva ag Byvca, the heart of winter.

Beauty and prominence go hand-in-hand with prosperity, which is why the Wind is the domicile of Tova. The Hero, as the rival of the Wind, is Tova’s detriment. The Comet, as an ally of the Hero, therefore serves as Tova’s fall; the other weak dignity. Because the Sea is the rival of the Comet, this means that the Sea is positioned as Tova’s exaltation. Furthermore, the bounty of the sea can be linked with Tova’s prosperity.

Because Ybis murdered Druka in myth and legend, the Comet is Druka’s detriment. This means that Druka is in its domicile within the Sea, which is a rival of the Comet. Furthermore, Druka is linked with wisdom, as is the Sea, which further strengthens the domicile.

Unsurprisingly, Ybis (the celestial body) is in domicile in the constellation of the Comet. The Sea, being the rival of the Comet, is therefore Ybis’ detriment. The Comet’s ally, the Hero, is Ybis exaltation, and the Wind as the rival of the Hero is Ybis’ fall.

6] Haeseni Mythologie.

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While the celestial bodies represent what is being influenced and the zodiac sign is how that energy is expressed, the house is where that energy is being affected. 

The first house is determined by the Ascendant and rotates counterclockwise around the natal chart, representing the natural movement of the sky from east to west. Each of the houses represents a different area of life.

I. House of Self  represents personality, appearance, and self-identity.

II. House of Riches governs finances, possessions, and self-worth.

III. House of Kin represents cultural roots, family, and domestic life.

IV. House of Bonds represents relationships (both platonic and romantic) and marriage.

V. House of Body governs physical, mental, and spiritual health.

VI. House of Philosophy is associated with education, travel, and belief systems, both moral and religious.

VII. House of Vocation represents public life, career, ambitions, and achievement.

The houses are then further classified into angular, succedent and cadent houses. This helps astrologers to interpret how celestial energies manifest in different areas of an individual’s life.

Angular houses, which are considered the most important, represent action and cardinal energy. The House of Self and House of Bonds are angular houses.

Succedent houses, which follow behind angular houses, are associated with stability and fixed energy. The House of Riches and House of Body are succedent houses.

Finally, the cadent houses are linked to adaptability and mutable energy. The House of Kin, House of Philosophy, and House of Vocation are cadent houses.

The classification of the houses modifies the interpretation of natal charts depending on the modalities of the zodiac signs where the celestial bodies are positioned. For example, if Druka—a comet representing wisdom, innovation, and intuition—is in Sea—a zodiac sign associated with insight and discernment—in the sixth house—the House of Philosophy—this might suggest a natural ability to understand complex ideas and philosophies, bringing logic and intelligence to interactions with spirituality. 

Because the Sea is a water-aligned sign linked with serene composure, that person may be able to navigate ideological shifts that they encounter throughout their life. Furthermore, the Sea’s qualities as a mutable sign would encourage openness to revising one’s belief systems as new insights emerge. The House of Philosophy being a cadent house means that the individual would be able to refine their beliefs rather than being fixed on a set way of thinking.

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ASPECTS ARE THE ANGLES between the celestial bodies that reveal how they interact with one another.

A conjunction, when celestial bodies overlap one another, amplifies energy. Blended energies can be extremely powerful or too intense if the planets have opposing qualities.

A trine, or triangle, represents a harmonious flow of energy. There is ease and natural talent in areas the celestial bodies govern, such as their element or house.

A square  shows tension or challenge. There is conflict between energies, but it often also shows growth through challenges.

Opposition, when two celestial bodies are opposite one another on the natal chart, is a balancing of opposing forces. It can show tension or balance depending on the celestial body.

Finally, a soft aspect represents cooperative and supportive energy, indicating an area of life where a person has natural talents. It is less powerful than a trine, with more subtleties.

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MASTER TABLES

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Her Ladyship, ERIKA KORTREVICH

ISSUED BY THE COUNTY OF JEROVITZ

c. 572 E.S.

Since the beginning of human agricultural practices, livestock has become a prominent part of farming and ensuring that the population is well fed and sustained. Cattle are one of the most common variants of livestock and are widely beloved for the milk, meat and leather that they provide for a nation’s continued sustenance. The Korvian culture has a special connection to these animals and have spent centuries perfecting the rearing of these animals, granting the name of Pasák to those who take such a vocation. An integral part of the agricultural economy, it is important to understand these animals.

Every region and biome has their own species and breed of cattle, best suited to their needs and climate and terrain surrounding them. From the fields of Jerovitz and Kazan to the mountainous region of Kvasz, the bovine slowly adapt and change to suit their environment so that they can weather nature and provide what is needed. Such information shall be elucidated within this informative piece, from the Koravian Grey to the Kvasz Mountain-Bred.

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No family has a greater appreciation for Cattle than House Kortrevich, a family who believe themselves represented by the bull in tandem with their history of breeding cattle. Amongst their herds, live the ever illustrious Koravian Grey, an incredibly special breed that are owned and taken care of by only the Kotrevich and their workers. It is this breed that is the envy of all cattle breeders of Aevos due to its often sought after qualities, however this is the product of generations of selective breeding between the cattle to ensure that the Koravian Grey is as special as it is.

Upon gazing at a Koravian Grey, one would immediately notice the signature dark grey tone that its fur would hold, the cattle shall never be seen with any other colour of fur for it is the culmination of the selective breeding. A fully grown Koravian Grey would be sized around 5 foot and six inches to six foot and two inches, weighing a maximum weight of 1300kg, making it by far one of the largest cattle known to descendant-kind. The build is visibly almost pure muscle, as both the Bulls and Cows will be put to work in the fields of Jerovitz so that they may be able to build a physique of pure strength unseen by all breeders. It is due to this physique that they are able to weather the harsh climate of Haense, the muscle being able to ensure that it is able to have enough insulation to survive the cold. The horns of the bulls often grow both large and long, directed straight up towards the skies above, making it a fearsome opponent when it must protect its herd, often being employed in the deadly art of Koravian Bullfighting. 

Of course to the Pasák that maintain the bovine of Jerovitz, it is important to ensure that the cattle also produce the highest quality products, and the centuries of selective breeding have ensured that they may fulfil this demand. The hide of the animal is such that the Genuine leather, the second lowest register of leather, of the Koravian Grey, is closer to that of the Full Grain leather, the highest register of leather, of the average cow. The leather is sleek, opulent and has incredible strength in longevity, fetching it an incredibly high price at the markets. The cows of the Koravian Grey herds will produce a milk unlike any other, full and creamy, any other milk paling in comparison. While it may be used in conjecture with other drinks such as tea, coffee or the beloved Haeseni drink of Hot Chocolate, it is more common to drink this milk as it is due to the raw goodness of its natural taste. Finally, the meat that comes from a Koravian Grey is said to be of the highest quality, exquisitely tender and almost perfectly marbled every time. To feast upon such meat would be considered an extravagant sign of wealth as similarly to the milk and leather produce, it has been perfected over several generations of selective breeding. 

It must be noted that the many years of this practice and perfecting the species for its produce has led to an incredible degradation in the Koravian Grey’s ability to repopulate. A very small number of these cows, estimated to be around seven hundred, live today and the sheer majority are owned by the House of Kortrevich. It can take years to foster a new generation of these cattle, and sometimes the cows may die before producing any offspring, forcing the supply and demand for this breed to be outrageously unbalanced. Perhaps it is due to this lack of supply for the demand, that a Koravian Grey is treated as a gift that only the most cherished and respected friend of House Kortrevich may come to own.

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The standard stock of the Haeseni cow herder, the Markevian cattle are a simple breed of cow believed to be the very first breed of cow seen within fields of the Haeseni landscape. Making up well over half of the cattle population, these cows are not widely sought after, but bred for their ability to consistently repopulate and survive the severe weather that they will certainly face. Well regarded for its ability to consistently meet the demands of the population, while it is no means special, it is respected and beloved for the way it sustains the people in their day to day lives. 

Due to its varied and non-selective heritage, the Markevian Cattle come in varied shades, from brown to white, from black to grey, seeing a herd of these bovine will always present with a variety of colours to gaze upon. The full size of these cattle similarly varies greatly with a height of anywhere between four and six feet tall and a weight of 360 to 1000 kilograms, greatly depending on the food fed to it by the herder and the conditions that it grows within. The muscle content of the cattle is usually just below average, not being a particularly strong cattle when left to graze upon the fields, however some bulls may be put to work by their owner resulting in a stronger variant of the Markevian. The horns of a Markevian Bull shall only grow forward and not far at that, creating a very small horn of which has little to no use in defence of a herd. This is speculated to occur simply due to the fact that they cattle are in such large herds and so close to the Capital of Nau Valdev, that they are rarely at threat of predators if ever, giving little use to the horns. 

Due to its large population and continued ability to sustain its numbers and even grow it, the Markevian Cattle is able to meet the demand for the bovine product industry without much stress on the part of its herders. For example, if one was to purchase a leather pouch in the markets of Nau Valdev, it is almost certain to be stamped with the mark of a Markevian Cattle Herder. The leather of this breed is often considered quite weak in comparison to many others, often resulting in the Split Leather, the lowest section of the hide, being disregarded for it does not possess the durability needed to maintain an item. The upper sections of hide are used to craft innumerable items, however these are all considered cost effective versions of such and are often purchased by the peasantry. The milk of the cattle is nutritious and more importantly long lasting, in order to ensure that the seemingly endless supply of such does not spoil before it is sold at the markets. Most often found in any drink that may include milk in the Tipsy Tarchar or even in the homes of all Haeseni, from the commoner rungs to that of the Royals due to its easy access. Commonly used in stews, the beef of the Markevian Cattle is considered palatable but not at all impressive due to its fatty content with little to no marbling. Almost never eaten by itself due to the perception of it as an uninspiring ingredient that is better served within a gravy to mask where it falls short.

The history of this cattle is rather simple, upon arrival in Aevos, to meet a new demand for bovine products, farmers sought to breed their cows together quickly and amass a large population of an average cattle. Swiftly was this demand met by these new bulls and cows, named Markevian Cattle for their heritage, descending prominently from the cattle of the Markevian era. While it is not seen as a gift nor a prized cattle, this breed is widely respected for its continued dedication as a bovine that is more than able to to sustain an entire population of a nation.

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The Scyfling Highlander is one of the most ancient and storied cattle breeds, dating back to the earliest days of the cultures prominence and maintained for the centuries following their arrival within the Kingdom of Haense. A symbol of great wealth and a much beloved creature much more akin to a familial pet, this cattle species is treasured prominently for how it looks and behaves above its produce. It is difficult to ascertain just how much the Scyflings care for this bovine breed without immersing yourself within the culture itself, however we shall make a strive to elucidate this information.