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Author's Note: Culture clashes tend to be a lot messier in real life than a city "flipping" every so often. Differences in customs and beliefs insure that such clashes will be horrible even as wars are judged. Both sides come to regard the other as less than human, and the battles aren't merely for territory, but for the survival of a way of life.
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Our Lord and Creator, ever mindful of the lost of the world, saw fit to raise up an army of conversion, even as he sent Jonah to minister unto the city of Nineveh. For even in these enlightened times the confusion of paganism still held sway over the idolatrous Livonian and Prussian tribes. Thus, in the fire of his love, the crucified one inspired a mighty army to awaken them from the slumber of sin.
It came to pass, then, that with the authorization of the Polish princes and the blessings of the Trinity, a mighty and holy German army entered these regions. This army was not guided by lust for treasure or glory, but rather impelled by the edict of St. Paul, to carry the gospel into every land and to every creature. What a sight these men were as they marched forth to Babylonia and Raab! What force on earth, what human devil, could hope to stand before these glorious knights of Christ?
-Excerpt from Soldiers of God , by Frederick of Magdeburg
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The wooden blade of the shovel dug into the horse manure. All the shovels in the camp were wooden. All available metal was needed for arms and armour. Plowshares to swords, pruning hooks to spears.
Siegfried wiped his forehead, his right hand coming away glistening with sweat. His breath came in painful huffs. He had spent the better part of an hour cleaning the stables. Thankfully, the job was almost finished. His arms burned painfully as he shoveled the last bit of manure into a wheelbarrow.
The stable was in the center of a sprawling encampment that had risen almost overnight. Aided by the slave labor of non-converts, mighty walls had arisen like weeds from the frozen soil. Massive towers streched defiantly toward the heavens, keeping watch on the encampment, much as they believed God himself did.
Siegfried dumped the manure into a ditch outside the walls, keeping his eyes open for trouble. The pagan Prussians had been driven from the region, but an occassion raid still occured. In the first days of the mission the Prussians, who were ignorant of even basic masonry, had tried to push down the walls of the encampment. The attempt had failed. Siegfried nearly tripped over a half buried skull as he walked back to the walls.
Siegfried was a squire for the knights, although he was nearly thirty. The common blood in his veins, blood he'd occassionally spilled into the mud of European battlefields, held him back from promotion. He'd been told that the reise , meaning the colonizations of the pagan Baltic region, offered a chance for him to move up. He wasn't so sure. First he would have to become a knight brother, taking a monastic oath. An oath that would forbid a number of activities that he found rather rewarding.
For now, he was mostly concentrating on survival. Rumor was going around that another offensive was planned for winter. The pagans were under the assumption that it would be insanity to attempt to take ground during the bitter Prussian winter. Perhaps they would be caught off guard. Perhaps they were right.
Either way, there was more work to be done. The blacksmith needed extra hands, he'd been told. At least that would get him out of the cold for awhile, at least the physical cold. Siegfried couldn't shake a spiritual chill, as if all this was less then the noble enterprise it had been preached as.
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"We've sighted land, sir!" The Eagle Warrior brought himself to attention before the captain of the Invasion Fleet. "Very good scout. Sacrifices will be made in your honor. Dismissed." General Axayacatl rubbed his hands together in anticipation. The stuffy leadership back in Tenochitlan had told him that an invasion across the great sea was folly, that the logistics would be impossible. Axayacatl was never one to play things conservative, and with peace reigning at home, this was the way to glory.
Axayacatl removed a chicken from a cage near his desk in the ship's stateroom. He'd brought it to the chamber in anticipation of the news of landfall. Carefully he removed it from the cage, guarding his hands from the beak. He stroked it gently, calming the panicked clucking. He walked across the stateroom to a small altar to the one true God of his people: Quetzalcoatl. "Accept this sacrifice for granting a safe voyage, o feathered serpent. Soon you will be satiated with the blood of the infidel." With a single flex of his strong hands, he snapped the bird's neck. Slowly he placed the ruined body of the chicken on the altar, chanting silently the 101 secret names of the God. The bronze image of the feathered serpent behind the altar regarded the sacrifice with its ruby eyes.
"Soon you will feast...grant me victory in your name." Axayacatl bowed deeply before the altar, and then left the stateroom for the deck.
Sure enough, frozen land was visible through the mist that covered the inlet. A light snow was falling. Axayacatl regarded the foreign shores through a telescope. "Ready my personal guard and two of my possessions. Oh, get the flag, too." The first mate saluted sharply. A few minutes latter, the Aztec longboats glided through the fridgid water. Axayacatl's personal retinue were elite Jaguar Soldiers. Their ceremonial uniforms were replaced by heavy coats of animal hide. Rifles were cradled in heavily wrapped hands. Two men were not armed, and sat in silence, as the soldiers talked quietly amoungst themselves, awed at the sight of land so different than their homeland.
The longboat's touched the shore, and the Aztecs advanced up the beach. Axayacatl took the Aztec flag, which depicted the feathered serpent super-imposed over a pyramid. He thrust the flag into the frozen sand. "I claim this land and all its peoples and riches for the Republic of the Aztecs!"
"Perpare the sacrifices!" Rifle butts forced the unarmed men forward. Axayacatl produced his ceremonial dagger. The two victims watched passively. This was an honor for them, or so it was said. With two practiced swipes of his arm, the Aztec General cut their throats. The blood poured into the cold sandy ground. The men cheered.
"With this sacrifice I sanctify this mission. Soon the God will be appeased!" More cheers. Perhaps an hour later the Aztec Galleons began to disembark. The armies of Quetzalcoatl were on a holy mission. They had no idea they were about to run into another "holy army."
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Look for updates every day or so. Comments always encouraged!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our Lord and Creator, ever mindful of the lost of the world, saw fit to raise up an army of conversion, even as he sent Jonah to minister unto the city of Nineveh. For even in these enlightened times the confusion of paganism still held sway over the idolatrous Livonian and Prussian tribes. Thus, in the fire of his love, the crucified one inspired a mighty army to awaken them from the slumber of sin.
It came to pass, then, that with the authorization of the Polish princes and the blessings of the Trinity, a mighty and holy German army entered these regions. This army was not guided by lust for treasure or glory, but rather impelled by the edict of St. Paul, to carry the gospel into every land and to every creature. What a sight these men were as they marched forth to Babylonia and Raab! What force on earth, what human devil, could hope to stand before these glorious knights of Christ?
-Excerpt from Soldiers of God , by Frederick of Magdeburg
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The wooden blade of the shovel dug into the horse manure. All the shovels in the camp were wooden. All available metal was needed for arms and armour. Plowshares to swords, pruning hooks to spears.
Siegfried wiped his forehead, his right hand coming away glistening with sweat. His breath came in painful huffs. He had spent the better part of an hour cleaning the stables. Thankfully, the job was almost finished. His arms burned painfully as he shoveled the last bit of manure into a wheelbarrow.
The stable was in the center of a sprawling encampment that had risen almost overnight. Aided by the slave labor of non-converts, mighty walls had arisen like weeds from the frozen soil. Massive towers streched defiantly toward the heavens, keeping watch on the encampment, much as they believed God himself did.
Siegfried dumped the manure into a ditch outside the walls, keeping his eyes open for trouble. The pagan Prussians had been driven from the region, but an occassion raid still occured. In the first days of the mission the Prussians, who were ignorant of even basic masonry, had tried to push down the walls of the encampment. The attempt had failed. Siegfried nearly tripped over a half buried skull as he walked back to the walls.
Siegfried was a squire for the knights, although he was nearly thirty. The common blood in his veins, blood he'd occassionally spilled into the mud of European battlefields, held him back from promotion. He'd been told that the reise , meaning the colonizations of the pagan Baltic region, offered a chance for him to move up. He wasn't so sure. First he would have to become a knight brother, taking a monastic oath. An oath that would forbid a number of activities that he found rather rewarding.
For now, he was mostly concentrating on survival. Rumor was going around that another offensive was planned for winter. The pagans were under the assumption that it would be insanity to attempt to take ground during the bitter Prussian winter. Perhaps they would be caught off guard. Perhaps they were right.
Either way, there was more work to be done. The blacksmith needed extra hands, he'd been told. At least that would get him out of the cold for awhile, at least the physical cold. Siegfried couldn't shake a spiritual chill, as if all this was less then the noble enterprise it had been preached as.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We've sighted land, sir!" The Eagle Warrior brought himself to attention before the captain of the Invasion Fleet. "Very good scout. Sacrifices will be made in your honor. Dismissed." General Axayacatl rubbed his hands together in anticipation. The stuffy leadership back in Tenochitlan had told him that an invasion across the great sea was folly, that the logistics would be impossible. Axayacatl was never one to play things conservative, and with peace reigning at home, this was the way to glory.
Axayacatl removed a chicken from a cage near his desk in the ship's stateroom. He'd brought it to the chamber in anticipation of the news of landfall. Carefully he removed it from the cage, guarding his hands from the beak. He stroked it gently, calming the panicked clucking. He walked across the stateroom to a small altar to the one true God of his people: Quetzalcoatl. "Accept this sacrifice for granting a safe voyage, o feathered serpent. Soon you will be satiated with the blood of the infidel." With a single flex of his strong hands, he snapped the bird's neck. Slowly he placed the ruined body of the chicken on the altar, chanting silently the 101 secret names of the God. The bronze image of the feathered serpent behind the altar regarded the sacrifice with its ruby eyes.
"Soon you will feast...grant me victory in your name." Axayacatl bowed deeply before the altar, and then left the stateroom for the deck.
Sure enough, frozen land was visible through the mist that covered the inlet. A light snow was falling. Axayacatl regarded the foreign shores through a telescope. "Ready my personal guard and two of my possessions. Oh, get the flag, too." The first mate saluted sharply. A few minutes latter, the Aztec longboats glided through the fridgid water. Axayacatl's personal retinue were elite Jaguar Soldiers. Their ceremonial uniforms were replaced by heavy coats of animal hide. Rifles were cradled in heavily wrapped hands. Two men were not armed, and sat in silence, as the soldiers talked quietly amoungst themselves, awed at the sight of land so different than their homeland.
The longboat's touched the shore, and the Aztecs advanced up the beach. Axayacatl took the Aztec flag, which depicted the feathered serpent super-imposed over a pyramid. He thrust the flag into the frozen sand. "I claim this land and all its peoples and riches for the Republic of the Aztecs!"
"Perpare the sacrifices!" Rifle butts forced the unarmed men forward. Axayacatl produced his ceremonial dagger. The two victims watched passively. This was an honor for them, or so it was said. With two practiced swipes of his arm, the Aztec General cut their throats. The blood poured into the cold sandy ground. The men cheered.
"With this sacrifice I sanctify this mission. Soon the God will be appeased!" More cheers. Perhaps an hour later the Aztec Galleons began to disembark. The armies of Quetzalcoatl were on a holy mission. They had no idea they were about to run into another "holy army."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Look for updates every day or so. Comments always encouraged!
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