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The return of the fallen king

In a usurped kingdom , amid a war-torn and blood-soaked Italy, Conradin's battleground is set. To reclaim his birthright the crown of Sicily, he must tread a path paved with blood, learning that he must do whatever it takes to ascend the throne. --------------- In the year 1266, the tale of Conradin, the last scion of an ancient imperial dynasty, unfolds. His once-great kingdom, Sicily, has been ruthlessly usurped first by his own uncle and now rests in the hands of the cunning French Count Charles. Through a treacherous plot involving the Pope, Charles managed to oust the Hohenstaufen from the Kingdom of Sicily and crowned himself as its king. In the East, powers such as the Despotate of Epirus are keenly observing the instability in Sicily, poised to seize any advantage that may arise from the chaos. Meanwhile, the small Italian communes are caught in the political crossfire, aligning themselves with one side of the conflict or the other based on the prevailing political party in power and their vested interests. These shifting allegiances turn the Italian peninsula into a powder keg, where all-out war seems inevitable. As the shadows of history close in around Conradin, the world watches with bated breath. Will he emerge triumphant, his name forever etched in the annals of Sicilian glory as the rightful king who defied insurmountable odds, toppling both the Pope and the usurper? Or will he, in his valiant struggle, become a tragic figure, a symbol of lost opportunities and shattered dreams? The future of Sicily hangs in the balance, and Conradin's destiny remains uncertain, poised on the precipice of history.

Allevatore_dicapre · History
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Departing from Bohemia

<<"Nobility passes through by blood, not law">>

― Haluk Çay,

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The evening inside the castle had been a resounding success. It had been a delightful affair filled with sumptuous food, flowing wine, melodious music, and joyous laughter. The banquet had marked the perfect conclusion to a day of productive discussions and negotiations among the many Bohemian lords gathered at the castle. It was an occasion for them to celebrate not only their accomplishments but also the bonds of friendship and cooperation they were forging.

Conradin, too, had been an active participant in the festivities, relishing the camaraderie and unity that seemed to permeate the gathering. 

However, the morning after the banquet found Conradin in considerably less festive spirits. His enjoyment of the previous night's revelry had led to excessive drinking, resulting in a punishing hangover. His head pounded relentlessly, and waves of nausea washed over him. The prospect of simply rising from his bed felt like a monumental task. But Conradin was not one to succumb to discomfort easily, especially not with a busy day ahead.

Determined not to let a mere hangover hinder his productivity, Conradin summoned his inner strength. He resolved to power through the physical discomfort and face the day's challenges head-on.

With herculean determination, Conradin summoned the will to rise from his bed, leaving behind the bucket that had been his unfortunate companion for the past twenty minutes. Slowly, he navigated the room, every step a testament to his determination to appear composed despite his internal turmoil.

Eventually, he reached the morning hall, where breakfast awaited him. The servants, familiar with their king's penchant for indulgent feasts, had prepared a bowl of grain and milk, a concoction known to ease the effects of a night of revelry.

As Conradin partook in the humble meal, he felt a gradual alleviation of his discomfort. Though he was far from feeling his usual self, the breakfast provided some respite. He knew he would require a few more servings to fully recover, but for now, it had done the trick.

Emerging from the morning hall, Conradin could still sense the remnants of his headache and unease, but he was determined to face the day with renewed vigor. Whatever lay ahead, he was prepared to confront it, his unwavering resolve undeterred by the trials of the morning.

Outside the room, he ran upon Galvano, who was in considerably better shape than his liege. Only he, who was still young and had less experience with the devil's honey, appears to have felt so much suffering.

Conradin greeted his retainer, while hiding his embarrassment, who saluted him back .Before leaving , Conradin made sure to tell Galvano that they would leave Bohemia at midday and head home; after all, they couldn't afford to waste time kidding around.

"Remember, Galvano, we must ensure everything is ready by the appointed time," Conradin emphasized, looking to his trusted advisor for reassurance.

"You have my word, Your Majesty," Galvano replied with a firm nod. "We'll have everything in order as per your instructions."

As the hours passed, Conradin's determination never waned. He delved into his tasks, fully aware that setting a strong example for his men was crucial. His focus was unwavering, and his resolve unyielding.

When the time came to leave Bohemia, Conradin swiftly departed the palace and made his way to the awaiting caravan. The sight of his retainers and the awaiting horses that were effectively his army  filled him with a sense of purpose.

Mounting their horses, Conradin and his men set off towards Swabia. The day was idyllic, the sun casting its warm glow upon the landscape. The roads stretched ahead, quiet and serene, providing a tranquil backdrop for their journey. There was a palpable eagerness among the men; they were eager to reach their destinations, propelled by the success of the previous night's feast. No one suggested stopping for a break; their collective determination drove them forward.

"Press on, men!" Conradin encouraged, his voice carrying over the crisp air. "We've made excellent progress, and our preparations are well underway. Let's keep up this momentum!"

His words resonated with the men, further fortifying their spirits, as it was clear that they were all committed to the campaign's success.

Creation is hard, cheer me up!

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