THE HISTORIA PERTINAXI: Introduction & Volume I; The Rise of Canonius

[Nectorist 7423]

THE HISTORIA PERTINAXI: Introduction & Volume I;

The Rise of Canonius

Written by Justinian Nafis, Count of Susa

and

Adolphus Gloriana, Earl of Suffolk, Prince of Sutica

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Introduction

"Some will call it cruel. Others will call it just. Both are wrong. It is simply reality; humanity must be governed through force or be left in their primitive state.” - Emperor Aurelius after the Sack of Nordengrad

 

The name Renatus is one of the most feared, despised, yet also respected in all of human history. Although its origins lay in the foundational years of humanity’s distant past, many tend to associate its name with the Pertinaxi Dynasty, which definitively ruled over the realms of man from 1678-1725. This period, generally associated with brutality, crude governance, hyper-authoritarianism, arbitrary rule, and the oppression of the other realms of man was derided by many scholars and statesmen after its end. The descriptors ‘Renatian’ and ‘Pertinaxi’, once synonymous with the glory of Imperial conquest and power, were reduced to pejoratives in the early Petrine Empire to refer to someone with supposed authoritarian leanings and quickly caught on in places such as Haense and Norland.

 

However, a closer examination of the Pertinaxi Dynasty shows a far more nuanced picture. While cruel suppression was often a means of dealing with subjects, it was often done to enforce internal control of the Empire. Although the instruments of government were poorly-refined and centered around the personage of the Emperor, they sufficed when it came to defending the state, which triumphed in all wars save the final one that brought about its downfall. Even though the rule of law was at best nonexistent and at worst a weapon of Imperial generals and prefects, the constituent parts of the Empire flourished (when themselves not under direct assault from the Heartlands). Many scholars have tried to explain the dominance of the Pertinaxi Dynasty through a number of theories, ranging from the overly-critical (Petrine-era characterization of the Empire of Man as simply a tribal horde only able to master warfare) to the overly-generous (more contemporary beliefs, no doubt born in light of the presently-divided humanity, that the Renatian State was the desirable end for man to reach). 

 

However, most scholarship around the period focuses on the later reign of Aurelius, then skips to Antonius and ends through John VII. In part due to the paucity of sources, few venture to examine the overlooked, yet crucial periods of Aurelius’s early life and the reign of Augustus. This series will seek to fill in those gaps and examine the Pertinaxi Dynasty and the state it created from the reign of Aurelius through the deposition and assassination of Antonius. In doing so, these authors hope to answer two questions: How was a young Canonius Horen, beginning with a small host of three hundred soldiers, able to form one of the greatest Empires history has seen? And why did the Empire of Man decline so rapidly after him?

 

Our previous work, The Decline and Fall of the Holy Orenian Empire, was a study of ideology and how it drives the process of constructing, then deconstructing, a state through a battle of competing visions. The Petrine Empire provided a perfect model for examination, as laissez-faire, council-centric reigns of Alexander II and Adrian Sarkozy gave way to the centralized, liberal philosophy of the Petrine Emperors, which was swiftly undone by Philip III and Anastasia’s populist, hybrid model of government, which itself preceded Frederick I’s reactionary return to more traditional, feudal governance dominated by personal ties to various factions.

 

This work will not be a story of the competition of ideology and how it drove, and later undid, an Empire. Instead, the Historia Pertinaxi will be an examination of power. How may it be used to the benefit of a Dynasty-State? How can it be wrought from little, yet lost from a position of great advantage? Does the power of a state exist independent of those who rule it, or must the idiosyncrasies of its leaders be factored when ascertaining its strength? How are institutions developed to cement the power of a state? These authors aim to investigate these questions, and more, in our study of the three monarchs of the Empire of Man.

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The Rise of Canonius

"The world has not seen strength since John Owyn. It is our duty, granted to us by God, that we piece together this fractured race.” - Arpad Ivanovich to Canonius Horen before their march on Adelburg

 

The origin of Canonius Horen, who would later come to be known as Aurelius, has been shrouded by myths born from superstitious peasantry and propaganda issued by the various Pertinaxi Emperors. Were an aspiring scholar to believe these tales wholeheartedly, they would come away with a story of Canonius Horen emerging from the sea while riding a chariot in order to knock down the gates of Adelburg with his two closest companions and depose the decadent and corrupt Mardon Emperors. Not a thought would be given to the man’s father and mother, nor what happened before he turned thirty five, nor why he wished to depose the boy-Emperor John VI at all.

 

The true beginning of the man who would one day come to rule most of Atlas lay in the small town of Doggersden on the island of Tahn. While records are scant, given the low literacy rate in the town, accounts from foreign visitors paint a clearer picture of the homeland of Canonius Horen. During a visit in 1617, a retainer in the employment of a Lotharingian ambassador writes:

 

"Although it was the capital of the Principality of Skravia and the seat of the roguish, yet fearsome House of Romstun, what I came across was little more than a backwater village out of time. Ramshackle wooden huts lay strewn about with no thought given for planning. The masses donned plain, woolen clothing. Chickens, goats, cows, and other livestock roamed freely through the streets. Overlooking the town, albeit laying on the same flat plain, was a monstrosity of a keep, doubtless made only with the designs of cruel practicality with little thought given to civility or Divine inspiration.”

 

Another account, written by a merchant from the Dominion of Malin in 1620, recalls the character of the inhabitants of Doggersden:

 

"I had been told all my life that the Romstuns and their subjects were upjumped bandits. The territory they resided on now was land stolen from Lorraine at the behest of the late Emperor John V as part of some greater peace accord. When I met them, they proved to be a blunt and inhospitable, though thankfully fair, sort. They did not try to haggle over the prices of my wares, nor would they hear any pitch I had prepared for them. They would pay the price they thought worthy or not spend a single coin. Although the town hardly sported a friendly face I now consider returning, for it appears, perhaps through ill-gotten means, that many of the inhabitants have coin that their squalor would suggest they do not possess.”

 

Born in this small town on the western edges of the Kingdom of Lotharingia (later the Archduchy of Lorraine) in the year 1603, Canonius Horen was not raised in the glorious courts of Aeldin, nor brought to Axios by a large foreign army. Instead, he grew up among cunning mercenaries, ruthless brigands, and rugged peasants. His father, Carolus Horen, was a grandson of Pertinax Horen, the eldest son of the Exalted Godfrey, yet not the successor of his Empire, while his mother, Larissa Romstun, was a distant cousin of Leitsieg Romstun, a senior member of the powerful House Romstun. With his father constantly searching employment in the courts of foreign kings, where he could apply his training in law, the young Canonius’s training and education were left to his mother and her relatives.

 

At the time of Canonius’s birth, the powerful Johannian Empire, once the most dominant and storied country the world had ever seen, had fallen. The Kingdom of Courland under Tobias the Conqueror now reigned supreme over the realms of man and had systematically begun its infamous series of campaigns. Lotharingia was absorbed in 1594. Next came the Imperial Crownlands in 1595 after the destruction of Johannesburg. The conquest of Haense followed in 1604, and the effective subjugation of the Kingdom of Mardon in 1607 rounded out the series of Courlandic conquests. By 1608, only the Kingdom of the Westerlands remained as the final bastion of the old Johannian Empire.

 

With the Courlandic conquests came anarchy and lawlessness. Cities that had once supported robust civic life and bustling populations sat empty. Bandits and marauders freely prowled the roads of Axios, for the great host of Tobias Staunton was deployed only in times of open war. Brutal civil conflict broke out in those kingdoms which had fallen under Courland’s banner, as power vacuums emerged that allowed both large factional rivalries and petty feuds to answer their tensions through violence. The fall of the Johannians had brought an era of instability and fracturing. As trade broke down and humanity further splintered, the people of the disunited kingdoms cried out for a ruler who could protect them. However, in this era of war and political breakdown, the House Romstun saw opportunity. 

 

Being a family of martial persuasion (more crassly called soldiers of coin or bandits by their detractors), the Romstuns surveyed the scene and saw their ticket for ascension. Petty vassals of the Lotharigian kings, situated on the western edges of the kingdom, the Romstuns sat in an advantageous position, as the Kingdom of Lotharingia had neither the local control nor the manpower to reign in their ambitions. Over the years, the Romstun family slowly expanded their domains through brief, decisive wars against neighboring vassals. Eventually, they grew powerful enough to challenge King Hughes d’Amaury by 1609, but a Courlandic contingent sent to protect Metz, the seat of House d’Amaury, prevented any further advances.

 

The nature of Canonius’s upbringing and education during these years is unclear, as records from the period are scant. It can be assumed that he served as a page, and later a squire, for Leitsieg Romstun, and later became a knight in his retinue. Under Leitsieg’s tutelage he would have been trained in the arts of warfare, strategy, and political intrigue, He seemed to possess at least a rudimentary understanding of letters, though he was no great writer himself and preferred to articulate his thoughts to a scribe during his rule, and he grasped many of the more nuanced and complex aspects of the Canonist faith, suggesting a natural aptitude cultivated by excellent teaching.

 

The death of Tobias Staunton in 1608 broke whatever political order might have existed across Axios. His son and successor, King Joseph, possessed neither his father’s charisma nor his aptitude for command. Within two years, the subjugated crowns beneath the Courlandic Hegemony began to plan the overthrow of the Stauntons. The first stone to fall came in 1611 with the Greyspine Rebellion, where the Haeseni lords, led by Harren var Ruthern, rose up against King Joseph’s local administrators. In 1612, in the Second Battle of the Rothswood, the army of the Governor of Haense, Franz Kovachev, was destroyed by a smaller Haeseni force. This victory won Haense’s independence, whereupon they invited Stephen Barbanov to take the throne later that year.

 

Haense’s victory caused a rippling effect throughout the rest of humanity. In 1613, the lords of the Crownlands began to attack local Courlandic garrisons, also forcing their retreat. Later that year, Mardon ceased its tribute payments. Come the spring of 1614, only the Kingdom of Lotharingia remained nominally loyal, although by now many within the court of Hughes d’Amaury had their doubts about their hegemon’s survival. As a result of the multitude of rebellions springing up across his realm, King Joseph was forced to recall his garrison from Metz, which left the city and surrounding countryside wide open to House Romstun. Leitsieg Romstun did not waste the opportunity and immediately continued his advance towards the Lothairingian capital.

 

It is at this point, in the spring of 1614, that the Holy Orenian Empire was formally restored. Assailed from the west by the Romstuns, King Hughes offered to swear fealty to John Frederick Horen, the eldest son of the late Emperor Philip I, in exchange for the latter’s aid against the Skravian invaders. Although John Frederick possessed only a small retinue of his own, and had no considerable military or political experience to speak of, in this moment of desperation it was widely-believed that a Johannian was needed to reunite the realms of man and bring about stability to the realm once again. King Peter of Mardon, John Frederick’s younger brother, along with the lords of the Crownlands, promised to join the new Empire and pledge themselves to the defense of Lotharingia. Thus, on the 14th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1614, John Frederick was proclaimed Emperor John V in the court of Auguston, the capital of Mardon and personal property of King Peter, to rapturous applause. A week later, he set out with a small host to deal with the Romstun threat.

 

The Coronation of Emperor John V at Auguston, c. 1614. While many had high hopes for the newly-restored Oren under the successors of the Johannians, the Mardon Empire soon proved to be weak, corrupt, and decadent.

 

The coming campaign, brief as it was, was Canonius’s first experience in combat. Serving as a squire to Leitsieg Romstun, the young Horen watched as the wily commander defeated John V and his army in a lightning campaign. While Canonius’s own contributions are unknown, and are likely to have been limited, it is worth noting his first time seeing the field of battle. While he would never earn fame as a soldier during his life, nor even as a battlefield tactician, learning from the strategically gifted Leitsieg was no doubt of great benefit to the boy. By the spring of 1615, the Imperial host had been routed and the Romstuns were poised to seize Metz.

 

John V’s saving grace came when King Stephen I of Haense and Prince Henry of Evereux (the successor state of the Kingdom of Courland) also pledged to join the fledgling, struggling Empire. With additional soldiers being sent from the Crownlands and Mardon, the Romstuns knew that their chances of obtaining a favorable peace would dwindle the longer the war went on. On the 16th of Harren’s Folly, 1615, the Lotharingia-Romstun Concord was signed, which formally ceded all of western Lorraine to House Romstun, but also vassalized the Principality of Skravia. Fearing the prowess of the Romstuns, yet also wishing to bolster his own forces, John V readily accepted them into the Imperial fold, though not before tacitly allowing them to flay King Hughes alive.

 

It was during this time that Canonius began to be formally introduced to Imperial customs and court life. His father, Carolus, finally found employment in the Imperial bureaucracy as a land surveyor. With his income, he was able to bring his wife and son along with him as he traveled around the Empire performing his work. Although his paltry salary did not allow the elder Horen to afford much of an education for his son, Carolus’s frequent travels allowed the young Canonius to see the breadth of the realms of humanity. From Haense in the cold north, to Evereux in the warm south, from the Crownlands dotted by feudal manors and keeps to the urbanized Lorraine, Canonius saw it all and learned of the peoples and customs of these diverse and disparate lands.

 

The future Emperor’s travels around the Mardon Empire ended in 1617 with the start of the Santegian Rebellion. As House Romstun was called to join John V’s march against the rebellious Duchy of Savinia, Canonius was also ordered to join his liege and resume his duties as a squire. Unfortunately for the two, the Emperor’s poor strategic mind once again plagued his response to a crisis that threatened his realm. The expedition was ill-equipped and slow to set out, which gave crucial time for a coalition of dwarves, Norlanders, and orcs to reinforce Savinia.

 

When the Emperor’s army finally arrived in the friendly city of Trier in 1618, they set out on a slow, laborious march towards the town of Castell, the capital of the Duchy of Savinia. Although the following Battle of Castell is notoriously poorly-recorded, what is known is that it was a shattering defeat for the Imperial army. Forced to retreat to Trier, the Emperor and his paltry force chose to hole up in the city and prepare for a siege.

 

The role of Canonius in this campaign is also little-attested, although the sparse accounts present suggest that the Battle of Castell was the first true combat he participated in. It is unknown whether or not he distinguished himself, but it is clear neither he nor Leitsieg Romstun were blamed for the disaster. Never the most loyal vassal to John V, the old Romstun and his host quickly departed Asul and returned to Doggersden. It was a fortunate decision, for the ensuing Siege of Trier in 1619 would claim the life of the Emperor and the whole of his army of two thousand. After this defeat, all Imperial holdings on the island of Asul were swiftly conquered by the Duchy of Savinia, which soon after proclaimed itself the Kingdom of Santegia.

 

The disaster of the Santegian Rebellion shook the Empire. A brief power struggle for succession ensued, with the late Emperor’s brother, Peter Sigismund, King of Mardon, emerging triumphant in 1619 as Emperor Peter II. The ensuing four years were spent trying to administratively reorganize the Empire and recreate its destroyed army in the aftermath of the war, two daunting tasks that neither Peter II nor his government were prepared for.

 

In 1621, Canonius was knighted by Leitsieg Romstun and brought into the general’s inner circle. Although he was no great warrior, nor would he ever be, he was at least competent at arms and possessed some ability for command and leadership. His keen analytical mind, sound sense of strategy, and wise judgment was what made him a valuable asset for House Romstun. A carpenter in the service of House Romstun relayed an account to the cousin of a Lorrainian chronicler, who wrote down the following tale:

 

While conducting a census of the taxable properties within Doggersden, Canonius Horen came across a hut that was claimed by two different women as their property. Unable to find any land deed or writ of purchase, the young knight offered a compromise: he would saw the wooden hut in two and allocate one half to both women. The first woman readily accepted the offer and handed Canonius a saw of her own. The second wept and pleaded that her home not be damaged, offering to move out so that it may be spared. Taking both women’s reactions into consideration, the young knight decided to burn down the hut and construct a new armory there, for it would provide a greater benefit to the whole of the town.

 

This story demonstrates the logical framework that Canonius would operate under his whole life. To him, justice was only dispensed when benefit was brought to the wider whole, rather than simply its individual parts. Where there were advances to be made, there was a policy for the young knight to support. While he gained a reputation for his ruthless, unyielding judgements, he also saw Doggersden grow in power and wealth.

 

1623 proved to be a year of significant change for Canonius. In the spring of that year, his father was killed in the recently-built capital of Adelburg. His death proved to be a turning point in the life of Canonius and was an important event that changed the trajectory of the Mardon Empire itself.

 

The first, coming from official Pertinaxi propaganda published during the reign of Aurelius, states that Carolus Horen was a member of a republican dissident faction within the capital, where he had found employment as a tax official. When the plot among he and his conspirators was found, they were all sentenced to death for treason and hanged within the square.

 

The second, relayed from the guard captain of Adelburg, a Lorrainian named Gabaston, says that Carolus was implicated in a plot to advance his own claim upon the Imperial throne. When questioned, an associate falsely claimed that it was a plot to establish a republic, possibly in the hopes of receiving a lighter sentence. Regardless, the truth was uncovered and all of the conspirators were beheaded in the square of the capital.

 

The third and final account, first put forth by Reinhard von Schlitterbahn, an owner of several taverns within Adelburg, claims that Carolus was visiting a lover (later accounts would allege this individual to be a dwarf) when several colleagues of his also entered the establishment. In his haste to not be seen and humiliated, Carolus jumped out the window within his room. However, he misjudged his ability to fall with grace and ended up breaking his neck upon the ground. It was at that time that a cart was being trotted down the streets, which ended up decapitating him.

 

Whatever the true story was, the Romstuns certainly believed that Carolus’s death was no accident. Within a fortnight, a gang of Romstuns and their affiliates marched into the capital and surrounded the Archchancellor and brother of the Emperor, Prince Philip Owyn. Too terrified to act, Peter II watched helplessly as his brother and his entourage were flayed alive on the streets of the city. 

 

The flaying of Prince Philip Owyn was one of the most notorious acts of the time. It both foreshadowed the brutal violence that would mark the 17th century and defined the inability to restore law and order during the rule of the Mardon Emperors.

 

While the Emperor may not have acted to save his brother, he certainly sought to avenge him. An Imperial Ban was placed upon Deano Romstun, the Prince of Skravia, and the lands of House Romstun were declared forfeit. He executed his estranged Empress, Zoey Romstun, herself the daughter of Prince Deano, and ordered the banners of the Empire to be assembled. A great host flocked to Adelburg, for the many vassals of the Empire were eager to dispatch House Romstun which had struck fear in them all for years.

 

In the ensuing conflict, known as Prince Philip’s War, Canonius Horen would prove his aptitude for warfare, even if the cause he fought for would ultimately be lost. As the resources of House Romstun were spread thin, and Canonius was a young, mostly unproven officer, he was assigned a small force of ten knights and ninety footmen with which he was to harass the Imperial supply lines. Official commendations from Leitsieg Romstun prove the success of the young knight’s mission, and he was reported to have slowed the contingent from the Kingdom of Mardon, itself ten times larger than his own host, preventing them from coalescing with the wider Imperial army during their march on the lands of House Romstun.

 

Despite his own success, Canonius’s efforts made little impact on the wider war effort. The Imperial general, Owein aep Cynan, the Commander of the Nauzica Brigade, was a well-regarded strategist and tactician, certainly the only one in the Mardon Empire. Within a matter of months, he was able to use the overwhelming strength of the Imperial host to overrun the lands of the Romstuns, who were too few in number to give battle or properly garrison their castles. While frequent raids and skirmishes generally favored the Skravians, they were not nearly decisive enough to turn the tide of the war. By 1624 their lands had been wholly conquered and were returned to the Archduke of Lorraine.

 

Although he had been a captain for the Romstuns and was a protege of their notorious Leitsieg, Canonius was quickly restored to the Imperial graces. The reasons for this are not specifically known, but it can be assumed that given the short supply of capable officers, the promising young Horen was offered a place in the Emperor’s army in exchange for a pardon. Imperial army payment rolls in 1625 confirm this, where Canonius Horen is listed as receiving salary for a general’s commission. 

 

Little is known of the following twelve years of Canonius’s life; he all but vanishes from contemporary sources. What can be pieced together is that he was given a small detachment of Imperial soldiers to guard the western reaches of the Imperial Crownlands. In a region considered to be fiercely loyal to the Imperial Crown, and seeing little conflict or strife, it can be surmised that the general’s station was designed to keep him far from the capital, surrounded by Imperial loyalists, and removed from his Romstun allies. Despite this, it is known that Arpad Ivanovich, a friend of Canonius and fellow knight that had served under the Romstuns, joined the Horen’s host. Arpad himself possessed a far more fearsome reputation as a warrior and battlefield commander, and it was said that during Prince Philip’s War he had nearly defeated a Haeseni army thrice the size of his own force.

 

Another event of note was his marriage to his distant cousin, Theodosia Horen, in 1635. As the only child of one of the Empire’s more significant landowners. Coming into her father’s inheritance ten years earlier, the young Theodosia became one of the most desired women in the Empire. However, being quite distantly removed from the main Horenic line, finding a husband who would accept her lower station, yet also provide her some access to the noble circles of the Empire, was difficult. Aurelius, a young, rising general, showed both promise and ability. Within a year their first son, Constantine, was born. A year after came Antonius. While neither man would come to sit the throne after their father, both would play important roles in his reign.

 

Payment rolls from the period show just how dire the state of the Imperial army was. Although Canonius nominally stood in command of a force of two thousand soldiers, only three hundred could be said to be in active service. Problems with the Imperial army across the Empire, such as frequent desertions, a lack of supplies, a shortage of payments, and corruption, hampered the host that had just years before defeated the fearsome Romstuns. By the time of Peter II’s ill-advised intervention into the War of the Beards in 1631 in support of the Kingdom of Urguan against a coalition-backed rebellion, the Imperial war machine was simply nonfunctioning.

 

During the disastrous war, Canonius was not called to join the Emperor’s army as it marched towards Urguan, despite being one of the more experienced and competent officers in the Empire. Instead, command was delegated to the court favorites of Peter II regardless of merit and experience. It was even rumored that the famed Commander Owein aep Cynan was stripped of his command, which was given to a former elven castrato singer that was a lover of the Emperor. However, these rumors are unsubstantiated and may simply be the result of later Pertinaxi propaganda. Despite the questions of veracity, there is no doubt that the Imperial intervention into the War of the Beards was an embarrassing, catastrophic event.

 

It was perhaps fortunate, then, that Canonius was not called to join the army as it marched into Urguan. Because of this slight, he was able to distance himself from the great defeats suffered at the Battle of Jornheim Fields and the Siege of Fort Kovakirr, both of which caused the already-decaying Imperial army to functionally cease to exist. By 1636, Urguan was wholly annexed by the rebellious Kingdom of Kaz’Ulrah and Peter II was forced by his council to abdicate. The former Emperor’s son, John Maximilian, a boy of nine, was thrust to the throne and proclaimed as Emperor John VI.

 

Not surprisingly, this turn to a boy-Emperor, and his accompanying regency council, did little to solve the myriad of issues facing the Mardon Empire. Heavily in debt, possessing no army, wracked by instability, and facing an external coalition, the Imperial apparatus began to fracture. Adalwulf Horen, a mercenary captain who had long fought against the Empire, was hired along with his band in the hopes of providing some measure of defense to the porous borders. Additional mercenary companies, many of them former enemies of the Empire, were also hired en masse using steep loans taken from bankers in Adelburg. There is no doubt that Canonius watched with horror and great offense when a man who so mirror his own trajectory in life, being a Horenic scion turned general, was raised to the rank of field marshal and tasked with defending the Empire from external incursions.

 

These looming threats would manifest in the spring of 1637 when the Kingdom of Norland, eagerly eyeing the weakened Empire, began to raid and pillage along its under-protected western border. Whole towns were burnt and hundreds were slaughtered as the Norlandic berserkers looted the western Empire unopposed. From his position within the Crownlands, Canonius was unable to act, even though he was likely the only general who could prove able to adequately defend the exposed borderlands. With an imminent Norlandic invasion from the west, and an unresponsive Imperial government to the east, he called a council of war to decide his next move.

 

According to a shepherd that lived seventeen leagues from where the general’s army was stationed, the council of war that was held between Canonius, Arpad Ivanovich, and Leitsieg Romstun, who had recently arrived with a small host to support his old ward, were divided as to what the proper course of action ought to be. While all were in agreement that naming Canonius King of Renatus, an old, defunct title long-associated with martial prowess, was the first course of action, they could not agree upon the second step. Canonius appears to have wanted to go west and directly confront the invading Norlanders. Arpad believed that they should proclaim him Holy Orenian Emperor and immediately march on Adelburg. Leitsieg argued that the proper course of action was to return to their former lands in western Lorraine, where they still enjoyed a great deal of support, and raise a stronger host there. Due to these factional divides, Canonius and his army uncharacteristically dithered.

 

It is not known precisely when Canonius made his decision to declare himself King of Renatus, but it must have been by the end of the Harren’s Folly, as by the month of Sigismund’s End vassals around the Empire had taken note of the new “bandit king” who they derisively mocked. Proclaimed King of Renatus before his army of just over five hundred, King Canonius I pledged to restore the collapsing Crownlands, defeat the Norlandic invasion, and return order to the Empire; however, he remained vague as to his true loyalties to John VI and the regency council (authorial note: while some erroneously believe that he adopted the name ‘Aurelius’ the moment he crowned himself king, he did not do so until officially coronated in Adelburg. For the rest of this volume he shall continue to be referred to as Canonius).

 

A full-scale invasion of the Empire in the spring of 1638 changed whatever plans the King of Renatus may have had. With an army numbering nearly ten thousand strong, King Javier of Norland, joined by strong contingents from the dwarven clans of Kaz’Ulrah, the Horde of Krugmar, the Kingdom of Santegia, and the tribes of the dark elven Warhawkes, marched towards Adelburg from the west, sacking numerous towns and besieging many castles along his path. Desperate to stop King Javier’s advance, the regency council sent Adalwulf Horen with a mixed force of raw recruits and hired mercenaries to block the coalition’s path to the capital. 

 

Adelburg, c. 1630. It initially showed some promise, but it could never contest the power and influence of Metz or Alban.

 

To his dismay, the force given to the mercenary captain was undersupplied, poorly trained, dispirited, and disunified. Numbering just over half of the coalition’s host, this final Imperial army was decisively routed at the Battle of the Bloody Road, fought twenty miles from Adelburg, on the 8th of Tobias’s Bounty. Days after the battle, many of the mercenary companies, led by Adalwulf, defected to the coalition’s army, while the Imperial conscripts simply broke and fled back to their homes and farms.

 

Receiving news of the shattering Imperial defeat, Canonius and his council no longer wavered. While King Javier’s army would need a few days to recover from the battle and allow time for their baggage train to reach them, they were within striking distance of the capital. Were they to reach it unopposed, they would be able to storm the city with ease and take it, decapitating the head of the dying Empire. Not wishing to see the Crownlands fall under the rule of the Fatherists, Canonius and his small host raced to Adelburg, hoping to reach the city before the coalition did. As he rode, he met with the Company of Reiters, one of the few mercenary bands who had not defected to the coalition, and added them to his ranks.

 

By this time, Imperial order beyond the walls of the capital had collapsed. Riots had broken out in Metz, Mardon, and Bastion, the capital of the Westerlands, decrying the incapable administration. Formerly loyal vassals in the Crownlands turned to powerful lords and ladies that could promise protection against the Norlanders. Haense had withdrawn itself from Imperial affairs entirely and prepared the defense of its own borders against the neighboring Kaz’Ulrah. Even the regency council fled the capital for the safety of Bastion, but fatefully left the young Emperor behind. Around the 12th of Tobias’s Bounty, 1638, Canonius arrived at the head of his army, which numbered around two thousand strong, on the outskirts of Adelburg.

 

The Coup of Adelburg, the defining moment in the history of the Pertinaxi Dynasty, is shrouded by myth, misconception, and propaganda. Everything from the composition of Canonius’s army, to the size of the Adelburg garrison, to the circumstances around John VI’s death, are all disputed. These authors shall try to wade through the myriad of competing theories to reach the truth behind one of history’s most infamous episodes.

 

Unlike what legends stemming from Pertinaxi-sponsored authorship would tell the typical scholar, the Coup of Adelburg was not carried out by Canonius Horen, Leitsieg Romstun, and Arpad Ivanovich alone as they cut through thousands of men to reach the boy-Emperor and slay him. More recent figures, uncovered by NGS-affiliated scholars during the Petrine Era, are more accurate, giving a figure of around three hundred soldiers, but even this derives from misinterpretation of the sources at hand. Despite having few men to defend the city with, the old Nauzica Commander, Owein aep Cynan, who had inexplicably been denied significant authority until these final days, had allocated his sparse resources wisely. Simply put, it would have been impossible for only three hundred soldiers to storm Adelburg, make their way to the Imperial palace, and reach the boy-Emperor, as they faced well over two thousand men of the regular city garrison bolstered by thousands more from the surrounding Crownlands lords, city militia, and general citizenry.

 

From what can be gathered from official documentation from the camp of Reiter captain Székely Mátyás, all three thousand soldiers under Canonius’s command, among them his original Imperial soldiers, Reiter mercenaries, Romstuns, and bannermen from a few minor Crownlands houses, participated on the assault of the city. The attack began mere hours after the army reached the outskirts of the city on the 12th of Tobias’s Bounty, by which time the sun had already begun to set. The battle was hard-fought, but the advantage stayed with Canonius and his soldiers who, despite being outnumbered, clearly outclassed the city garrison. Within an hour, the gates had been breached and the Imperial defenders had fallen back to the palace in order to defend the Emperor.

 

As his thousands of Reiter mercenaries and other footmen sacked and looted Adelburg, setting several quarters of it ablaze, Canonius advanced into the palace. It was here that he, Arpad Ivanovich, Leitsieg Romstun, and three hundred handpicked fighters, made the final push. Owein aep Cynan, at the head of a depleted Nauzica Brigade bolstered by remnants of the shattered city garrison, put up a valiant resistance, but it would be in vain. As the Renatians breached the inner courtyard of the Imperial palace, the Nauzica Commander fell in the thick of the fighting.

 

With their commander dead, the dwindling cohesion within the Imperial ranks was finally snuffed out. Many dropped their weapons and fled, while others pleaded for mercy, though it was never given. Some few, mostly the remaining Nauzicans, circled around John VI, who had remained seated on his throne for all of the battle, but their resistance could only last for so long. The Romstuns, having lost only ten of their number, entered the throne room as the moon had just begun to rise above the burning city. The final Nauzicans, exhausted and outnumbered, were quickly whittled down.

 

It was here that, in this most infamous occasion, the most infamous act occurred. Driven by bloodlust, as was thought to be a condition of his lineage, Arpad Ivanovich stormed forth and grabbed John VI with one hand as he held his ax in the other. Ignoring the fray around him, the enraged Ivanovich slammed the boy-Emperor to the ground before splitting his head open with his crude, orcish-made ax (alternatively, some accounts say that John VI was decapitated). Silence quickly fell across the throne room as the fighting came to an end. The last of the Imperial resistance had been snuffed out, Adelburg was in the hands of the Renatians, and with the boy-Emperor’s death, the line of the Mardon Emperors had been extinguished.

 

While the full history of the Sixth Empire will be covered in the Annals of Mardon, its ultimate demise is too intertwined with the rise of Canonius Horen to be avoided here. Thrust into an era of weak Emperors, corrupt officials, underpaid and mutinous armies, and the decline of order and security, this period was one of the few where a man such as Canonius could make as rapid of an ascent as he did. Had he been born an age earlier, his initial opposition to the Empire would have meant his death. Had he been born an age later, he would have been subsumed by the multitudes of other ambitious, ruthless men that sprung up during the period.

 

This is not to say that he was an unremarkable man, only that the age into which he was born did not possess any force that could oppose him. Even after Prince Philip’s War, which resulted in a sound defeat for the Skravian Romstuns, Canonius was given a frontier command that effectively undid any damage that may have been done to he and his allies. It was from this position that he was ultimately able to strike at the capital.

 

If one lesson is to be learned from Canonius’s early years, it is that something can be made of even the worst circumstances. Born into a poor and ill-regarded family, in a city stricken by poverty and backwardness, Canonius did not succumb to the pull of mediocrity that had grasped so many others in such circumstances, but aspired to see what heights he could climb to given what he had. He was faithful to his closest allies, the Romstuns, yet showed political tact in his dealings with the Mardons. He could always rely on the former for support and use the latter to advance his position.

 

The one danger that Canonius could have faced at this time was that the power he had was not his. Aside from the soldiers directly under his command, his personal connections with the Romstums allowed him to access services from the Reiters, which in turn made him an appealing candidate to support by the Crownlands nobility who feared dispossession if the region was conquered by King Javier of Norland. If at any point, one of these three critical links to his support base removed themselves, then he would have been left at a complete disadvantage. Moving forward, not only would he have to placate these factions, he would have to build a new center of political power completely loyal to him.

 

---

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.

---

Canonius’s subsequent actions as King of Renatus shall be covered in our next volume of The Historia Pertinaxi.

[Hanrahan 2885]

 

 

A young scholar in Balian, after completing his reading of the work would lean back in his chair and set a hand to his chin, lost in thought.

 

He knew much of history - the annals of the 18th and 19th century were well known to him, but little of the 17th. He thought of his great-grandfather - a Providence man, of whom only he had heard half-faded familial stories about. It was said he was a broken man; though settled in Balian towards the end of his life, he never forgot the world in which he had been raised, and was never able to accept its sad departure. He then thought of the Pertinaxi. Historiography, especially in Balian was coloured towards a profoundly disparaging assessment of that long gone state, of which he knew his fine land of Balian was, in its roots, founded in opposition to. Yet.. he paused. Despite its terrible flaws, and the violence and inequality inherent in it - it was a state that men had worked and bled for, enduring conditions that were unimaginable in the modern comfort of his own life. Though the results were vastly different, he could not help but reflect how closely it reflected the origins of the Petrine Empire. The indomitable spirit of man was present always; despite the manner in which it manifested.

 

The Pertinaxi were not a model to be emulated. Their proclivity towards despotism and violence proved their ruin, ultimately - yet... who lamented its fall? Who celebrated its birth? It was by no other circumstance other than the date of birth that he, and his ancestors were not citizens of the Pertinax Empire, instead of the Petrine. Would he have lamented its fall? It was difficult to say. He didn't have an answer. All he knew is that such deeds of men were great - terrible, but great. They inspired and created - and the absence of them was cause for grief, regardless. Perhaps one day, the mantle would be seized again, however unlikely. Even he was more entertained by Imperial tales as a source of fun and fancy, rather than earnest political dreams and desires. Yet, at the edge of his dreams, stood the faint beckon - that pillar of light; the providence of humanity.

 

He immediately put his pen to paper, writing;

 

To the Esteemable Mr. Nafis,

 

"It is with a great pleasure that I have read this work, and your previous series. Despite some of the more apparent biases provoked by closeness of events and peculiarities in source material, they were robust and highly educational. Your knowledge in these matters is exceptional, and the work undertaken to compile and organize such a history is worthy of praise. The Pertinaxi period is little covered in my country, and what few works there are yet still are marked with heavy bias inherited from our forefathers. I am taken aback by the richness of detail. In my university, I inquired about the state of Pertinaxi scholasticism. I was told that the dearth of primary source material and the subsequent burying of the dynasty by the Petrine academics in the reign of Peter III frustrated most attempts to dive deeper than a surface level chronology. I am very curious about your sources and methods."

 

Thank you,

Horace Napier, Esq.

 

703 Cornelia Street, Porto Regne, La Costa Rubinissima, Balian.

 

@Nectorist

[Nectorist 7423]

7 hours ago, Hanrahan said:

 

 

A young scholar in Balian, after completing his reading of the work would lean back in his chair and set a hand to his chin, lost in thought.

 

He knew much of history - the annals of the 18th and 19th century were well known to him, but little of the 17th. He thought of his great-grandfather - a Providence man, of whom only he had heard half-faded familial stories about. It was said he was a broken man; though settled in Balian towards the end of his life, he never forgot the world in which he had been raised, and was never able to accept its sad departure. He then thought of the Pertinaxi. Historiography, especially in Balian was coloured towards a profoundly disparaging assessment of that long gone state, of which he knew his fine land of Balian was, in its roots, founded in opposition to. Yet.. he paused. Despite its terrible flaws, and the violence and inequality inherent in it - it was a state that men had worked and bled for, enduring conditions that were unimaginable in the modern comfort of his own life. Though the results were vastly different, he could not help but reflect how closely it reflected the origins of the Petrine Empire. The indomitable spirit of man was present always; despite the manner in which it manifested.

 

The Pertinaxi were not a model to be emulated. Their proclivity towards despotism and violence proved their ruin, ultimately - yet... who lamented its fall? Who celebrated its birth? It was by no other circumstance other than the date of birth that he, and his ancestors were not citizens of the Pertinax Empire, instead of the Petrine. Would he have lamented its fall? It was difficult to say. He didn't have an answer. All he knew is that such deeds of men were great - terrible, but great. They inspired and created - and the absence of them was cause for grief, regardless. Perhaps one day, the mantle would be seized again, however unlikely. Even he was more entertained by Imperial tales as a source of fun and fancy, rather than earnest political dreams and desires. Yet, at the edge of his dreams, stood the faint beckon - that pillar of light; the providence of humanity.

 

He immediately put his pen to paper, writing;

 

To the Esteemable Mr. Nafis,

 

"It is with a great pleasure that I have read this work, and your previous series. Despite some of the more apparent biases provoked by closeness of events and peculiarities in source material, they were robust and highly educational. Your knowledge in these matters is exceptional, and the work undertaken to compile and organize such a history is worthy of praise. The Pertinaxi period is little covered in my country, and what few works there are yet still are marked with heavy bias inherited from our forefathers. I am taken aback by the richness of detail. In my university, I inquired about the state of Pertinaxi scholasticism. I was told that the dearth of primary source material and the subsequent burying of the dynasty by the Petrine academics in the reign of Peter III frustrated most attempts to dive deeper than a surface level chronology. I am very curious about your sources and methods."

 

Thank you,

Horace Napier, Esq.

 

703 Cornelia Street, Porto Regne, La Costa Rubinissima, Balian.

 

@Nectorist

A return letter arrives at 703 Cornelia Street a fortnight after. The young deliveryman begs incessantly for extra coin, citing the hassle it had been to track down the elusive Count of Basrid in the first place.

 

"Dear Mr. Horace Napier,

 

I am sorry to say that my friend and colleague, Lord Basrid, is presently indisposed and unable to write back. Because we live on the same street, I am entrusted with answering some of his mail when he is away, which I shall do now. 

 

My colleague and I thank you for your words, reflecting the true scholar's spirit more than any uncritical adulation would. The work of history is a difficult one, fraught with conflicting sources and viewpoints, and creating these broad, grand narratives is intensive on both our time and resources. As family men, we are frequently in short supply of both. Thankfully, residing in Valdev has its advantages. The Haeseni archives are among the most well-maintained and undisturbed, allowing us access to materials that are difficult to come by elsewhere. The Church archives are perhaps the only that surpass them, even if they must be used with extreme caution. There are some works from Aaun, mostly literary and oral tradition, that cover the late Mardon Empire, and the van Aert family has an extensive record of Pertinaxi-era military documents. Of course, the present war makes the latter two difficult to access. Oral tradition survives, though, and much of the official records of the Pertinaxi governments survive, though they are scattered throughout Balian, Petra, Haense, and Aaun, so while our research into the period is still ongoing, we are assured that there is enough material to build a comprehensive tale.

 

As this first volume has mostly covered Aurelius's early life, intertwined with the fate of the Sixth Empire, we have not built out our bibliography of specifically Pertinaxi-era sources. It may very well be that when we begin the Annals of Mardon, to commence after the Historia Pertinaxi is finished, much of these sources will appear the same. This means that many of the sources we are using to build our next few volumes are currently being tested and weighted more critically now that the writing phase has begun. When some of these volumes release, I will have my granddaughter mail you a list of our sources.

 

For now, here is a non-exhaustive list of some of the documents, writings, etc, that we have used in consultation with our other sources to write this initial volume.

 

IMPORTANT HISTORIES

Spoiler

 

 

PRIMARY SOURCES

Spoiler

 

 

My Best Regards,

Adolphus Gloriana"