Turn Six - Faith and Politics
- Location
- London, England
At the very heart of the Empire is the province of Hochland; smaller than its neighbours, poorer in resources and arable land, the province has often been overlooked by the greedy and ambitious throughout history. This largesse suits the Hochlanders perfectly; nobody makes plans to invade a backwater, and there is no better prey for a hunter than one uncomprehending that you could possibly be a threat.
Alas, the growing crisis presented a disturbing number of ways that a comfortable situation could be threatened. The slow splintering of the Cult of Morr to the south was merely one example, for with their High Priest… absolutely not dead, of course not, merely occupied... the rest of the Cult had taken steps that many would consider unwise. The possibility of Hochland being dragged into the mess was far too high for Grand Baroness Theophania's liking, and so she turned to someone she knew she could rely upon to provide security in an uncertain time.
Her mother, the Baroness Dowager Adelinde von Langweise.
Moving with such speed that she hardly seemed to be doing anything at all, the handsome older woman left her self-imposed retreat and began making a series of social calls. Married women and older relatives all across Hochland were only too glad to host such a distinguished and eloquent guest, and in her wake made visits in their turn to priests and dignitaries of all sorts. Piety was their watchword, prudence their strategy, and though they never once proposed anything overtly radical their softly spoken advice was taken extremely seriously by those who knew better than to dismiss it out of hand.
And so, with a gardener's meticulous care, the local branch of the Cult of Morr was swiftly and neatly severed from the wider organisation, so softly that most did not even realise anything had actually changed.
With the possibility of external religious strife allayed, at least for now, Theophania turned her attention to the other lingering threat; the possibility of invasion. Trying to stay entirely neutral in the wars engulfing the Empire was a fool's gambit, of that she had no doubt - such considerations had played a significant part in her decision to sign the articles of the Black League, and more recently to allow the First Hochland to be hired by the nations of the Pact for their war with Middenland. Such measures had gained her many friends, so now she had but to look at deterring her handful of remaining enemies, to remind them that invading the heartland would be far more trouble than it could ever possibly be worth.
A new law was drafted and announced, a requirement that when the state militia was called to arms, a certain number of firearms should be produced for every company of troops, and that no measures should be taken by the lawful authorities in times of peace to obstruct the preparation of such personal arsenals. It was a decree that the Hochlanders took to with gusto, readily welcoming official approval and the implied support for the province's home-grown industry in customised firearms. The benefits it offered against beastmen and goblins alone would have sufficed to justify the measure in the eyes of many, but the additional threat it represented to any that might wish to move through Hochland unwelcome was not to be discounted.
-/-
The Cult of Manann had always possessed a reputation for being both ambitious and politically minded, and under the leadership of Matriarch Leentje its prospects had risen higher than ever before. Not content with a temple in every city and the ear of princes from Reikland to Kislev, the Matriarch now turned her attention towards consolidating what she had and broadening what she desired.
In the docklands of Marienburg, hulls were laid down and Elvish expertise purchased in gold, the foundations of a true fleet of war paid for by the ever-generous Count Yjsbraant. When complete it would be an equal in quality to the naval forces of any sovereign state, crewed by devout priests and templars of the Storm God and funded by the pious from Marienburg's many merchant houses - the newly arrived artist and architect Klaus von Wolfbach among them.
In Reikland, meanwhile, the final touches on a years-long construction project were complete, and a new Cathedral to Manann opened with a great ceremony. The priests here were all of Reikish birth, chosen and patronised as part of Konstantin's ongoing efforts to maintain a strong hold over the waters of the Empire - he had lost Crocodilian, yes, but the River Reik trading company continued to go from strength to strength, feeding the hungry markets of the south, and on balance the situation looked remarkably promising. Many followed his example, if perhaps not to the same extent, constructing shrines in riverside towns and major settlements throughout the Empire, until the faith of Manann was all but omnipresent within the Empire.
Not that Leentje's ambitions were restricted to the lands of the Sigmans, oh most certainly not. She had eyes on Bretonnia as well, and to that end had funded the creation of a sister organisation to the now-infamous Anchor Post, aimed squarely at the chivalrous nobles and vainglorious knights of that warm and pleasant land. Stories of tournaments won, great monsters slain and feats of heroism undertaken could be spread across the land via this new publication far faster than the swiftest minstrel could ride, and with a few quiet words from the Duke of Couronne (encouraged, it is said, by his wife's own debt of gratitude to the cult of the sea god) some measure of success was all but guaranteed.
There were certain limitations, of course, for the Royarch's court was far from the sea and traditionally considered mastery of the waves to be clearly inferior to mastery of a good horse, but Leentje could be patient. The heavens would not deliver themselves in a day, and her ambitions reached scarcely less high.
-/-
Officially, the war between the Pfeildorf Pact and the Union of Seasons was a purely secular affair, a conflict spurred by treachery and dynastic ambition. In practice, the close bonds between the Cult of Ulric and the state of Middenland were well known, the use of tithes to fund the war effort a possibility widely assumed. Thus, the Pact sought victory not merely in the field of battle, but also in the sermon and the pulpit alike.
Of the Cult's traditional bastions of support, Nordland had already broken with the Ar-Ulric in a most decisive fashion, so the Pact turned their attention elsewhere - the Drakwald, which had always been dominated by the Cult of Winter, and the Westerlands, which had seen considerable evangelism within the past few years. Both would need to see their local branch of the faith tamed and broken if any kind of victory was to be achieved, and so the Pact set to work with a will.
Building off the prestige earned during the Goldgather affair, and taking advantage of a generally positive local reputation, Grand Prince Konstantin and Duke Henryk von Bildhofen began to select and promote new Priests of Ulric from among the province's ranks. These would be respected and capable men of the faith, to be certain, for no Ulrican worth the name would ever respect a spineless mouthpiece… but they would have a clear understanding of where their loyalties lay, and the good sense not to take action contrary to the interests of their patrons.
Riding high on the heels of a victorious campaign against their old overlords, the Drakwalders complied with enthusiasm that verged on outright glee at times. Those priests that had fought with them or vocally supported the war effort were praised and elevated in station, while those who had hesitated or taken a more hostile stance were rapidly chased off under barrages of scorn and covert violence. Von Bildhofen was only too happy to sanction such a campaign, and to elevate his own hand-picked High Priest of Ulric shortly thereafter; after all, an independent Drakwald both needed and deserved an independent priesthood, one loyal to the land and its people rather than any foreign masters.
Efforts to create a similar effect in the Westerlands were rather more complicated, for the White Wolves maintained a full chapter in the area, and enjoyed a shockingly high degree of public support. The Halflings in particular would not hear such criticism of their beloved protectors, and swiftly proved themselves more than willing to leave any longshanks that dared take action against their new patron cult bleeding out in a dingy alleyway. Yjsbraant, no fool and not entirely sold on this idea in the first place, was swift to abort the undertaking before any more serious measures could be called for.
Ultimately though, by the time the early winter broke and veiled the land in snow, Ar-Ulric von Jaeger found his influence heavily curtailed outside of Middenland itself, while the defeats inflicted on the battlefield had done considerable harm to his standing closer to home as well. The damage was not irreparable, not yet… but it was becoming increasingly clear that some manner of grand gesture would be necessary to regain the momentum, and that it would have to be delivered soon.
The Wolf had been cornered in its lair - now all that remained to see was whose throat the snarling beast would tear out first in its desperation.
Alas, the growing crisis presented a disturbing number of ways that a comfortable situation could be threatened. The slow splintering of the Cult of Morr to the south was merely one example, for with their High Priest… absolutely not dead, of course not, merely occupied... the rest of the Cult had taken steps that many would consider unwise. The possibility of Hochland being dragged into the mess was far too high for Grand Baroness Theophania's liking, and so she turned to someone she knew she could rely upon to provide security in an uncertain time.
Her mother, the Baroness Dowager Adelinde von Langweise.
Moving with such speed that she hardly seemed to be doing anything at all, the handsome older woman left her self-imposed retreat and began making a series of social calls. Married women and older relatives all across Hochland were only too glad to host such a distinguished and eloquent guest, and in her wake made visits in their turn to priests and dignitaries of all sorts. Piety was their watchword, prudence their strategy, and though they never once proposed anything overtly radical their softly spoken advice was taken extremely seriously by those who knew better than to dismiss it out of hand.
And so, with a gardener's meticulous care, the local branch of the Cult of Morr was swiftly and neatly severed from the wider organisation, so softly that most did not even realise anything had actually changed.
With the possibility of external religious strife allayed, at least for now, Theophania turned her attention to the other lingering threat; the possibility of invasion. Trying to stay entirely neutral in the wars engulfing the Empire was a fool's gambit, of that she had no doubt - such considerations had played a significant part in her decision to sign the articles of the Black League, and more recently to allow the First Hochland to be hired by the nations of the Pact for their war with Middenland. Such measures had gained her many friends, so now she had but to look at deterring her handful of remaining enemies, to remind them that invading the heartland would be far more trouble than it could ever possibly be worth.
A new law was drafted and announced, a requirement that when the state militia was called to arms, a certain number of firearms should be produced for every company of troops, and that no measures should be taken by the lawful authorities in times of peace to obstruct the preparation of such personal arsenals. It was a decree that the Hochlanders took to with gusto, readily welcoming official approval and the implied support for the province's home-grown industry in customised firearms. The benefits it offered against beastmen and goblins alone would have sufficed to justify the measure in the eyes of many, but the additional threat it represented to any that might wish to move through Hochland unwelcome was not to be discounted.
-/-
The Cult of Manann had always possessed a reputation for being both ambitious and politically minded, and under the leadership of Matriarch Leentje its prospects had risen higher than ever before. Not content with a temple in every city and the ear of princes from Reikland to Kislev, the Matriarch now turned her attention towards consolidating what she had and broadening what she desired.
In the docklands of Marienburg, hulls were laid down and Elvish expertise purchased in gold, the foundations of a true fleet of war paid for by the ever-generous Count Yjsbraant. When complete it would be an equal in quality to the naval forces of any sovereign state, crewed by devout priests and templars of the Storm God and funded by the pious from Marienburg's many merchant houses - the newly arrived artist and architect Klaus von Wolfbach among them.
In Reikland, meanwhile, the final touches on a years-long construction project were complete, and a new Cathedral to Manann opened with a great ceremony. The priests here were all of Reikish birth, chosen and patronised as part of Konstantin's ongoing efforts to maintain a strong hold over the waters of the Empire - he had lost Crocodilian, yes, but the River Reik trading company continued to go from strength to strength, feeding the hungry markets of the south, and on balance the situation looked remarkably promising. Many followed his example, if perhaps not to the same extent, constructing shrines in riverside towns and major settlements throughout the Empire, until the faith of Manann was all but omnipresent within the Empire.
Not that Leentje's ambitions were restricted to the lands of the Sigmans, oh most certainly not. She had eyes on Bretonnia as well, and to that end had funded the creation of a sister organisation to the now-infamous Anchor Post, aimed squarely at the chivalrous nobles and vainglorious knights of that warm and pleasant land. Stories of tournaments won, great monsters slain and feats of heroism undertaken could be spread across the land via this new publication far faster than the swiftest minstrel could ride, and with a few quiet words from the Duke of Couronne (encouraged, it is said, by his wife's own debt of gratitude to the cult of the sea god) some measure of success was all but guaranteed.
There were certain limitations, of course, for the Royarch's court was far from the sea and traditionally considered mastery of the waves to be clearly inferior to mastery of a good horse, but Leentje could be patient. The heavens would not deliver themselves in a day, and her ambitions reached scarcely less high.
-/-
Officially, the war between the Pfeildorf Pact and the Union of Seasons was a purely secular affair, a conflict spurred by treachery and dynastic ambition. In practice, the close bonds between the Cult of Ulric and the state of Middenland were well known, the use of tithes to fund the war effort a possibility widely assumed. Thus, the Pact sought victory not merely in the field of battle, but also in the sermon and the pulpit alike.
Of the Cult's traditional bastions of support, Nordland had already broken with the Ar-Ulric in a most decisive fashion, so the Pact turned their attention elsewhere - the Drakwald, which had always been dominated by the Cult of Winter, and the Westerlands, which had seen considerable evangelism within the past few years. Both would need to see their local branch of the faith tamed and broken if any kind of victory was to be achieved, and so the Pact set to work with a will.
Building off the prestige earned during the Goldgather affair, and taking advantage of a generally positive local reputation, Grand Prince Konstantin and Duke Henryk von Bildhofen began to select and promote new Priests of Ulric from among the province's ranks. These would be respected and capable men of the faith, to be certain, for no Ulrican worth the name would ever respect a spineless mouthpiece… but they would have a clear understanding of where their loyalties lay, and the good sense not to take action contrary to the interests of their patrons.
Riding high on the heels of a victorious campaign against their old overlords, the Drakwalders complied with enthusiasm that verged on outright glee at times. Those priests that had fought with them or vocally supported the war effort were praised and elevated in station, while those who had hesitated or taken a more hostile stance were rapidly chased off under barrages of scorn and covert violence. Von Bildhofen was only too happy to sanction such a campaign, and to elevate his own hand-picked High Priest of Ulric shortly thereafter; after all, an independent Drakwald both needed and deserved an independent priesthood, one loyal to the land and its people rather than any foreign masters.
Efforts to create a similar effect in the Westerlands were rather more complicated, for the White Wolves maintained a full chapter in the area, and enjoyed a shockingly high degree of public support. The Halflings in particular would not hear such criticism of their beloved protectors, and swiftly proved themselves more than willing to leave any longshanks that dared take action against their new patron cult bleeding out in a dingy alleyway. Yjsbraant, no fool and not entirely sold on this idea in the first place, was swift to abort the undertaking before any more serious measures could be called for.
Ultimately though, by the time the early winter broke and veiled the land in snow, Ar-Ulric von Jaeger found his influence heavily curtailed outside of Middenland itself, while the defeats inflicted on the battlefield had done considerable harm to his standing closer to home as well. The damage was not irreparable, not yet… but it was becoming increasingly clear that some manner of grand gesture would be necessary to regain the momentum, and that it would have to be delivered soon.
The Wolf had been cornered in its lair - now all that remained to see was whose throat the snarling beast would tear out first in its desperation.
