CK2 Succession Games: Habsburg & d'Ibelin

[Seperallis]

> > Lusignan "the Rash" d'Ibelin < <
Count and Baron of Beersheb, Madaba, Tyana, Amisos, Ancyra, Chaldea, Lykandos, Kaisereia, Galatia, Tarsos, Adana, Teluch, Seleukeia, and Ikonion
Steward of the Duchy of Ascalon
Born 1182 : Died 25 April, 1254




Lusignan, poor little Lusignan. With his father's death and his sisters wed or betrothed to far-off lords, he spent his time alone and on his own in Castle Beersheb, with only his tutor to guide him. Much a coward like his father, always jumpy and afraid of the dangers of the world that lurked around ever corner, the castle became a prison. He was alone, he learned, last son of his line and surrounded by squabbling lords in a land full of godless devil-worshiping monsters. Every shadow hid his enemies, and every groan, every squeak of the castle was an assassin sent to wrestle his paltry title from his cold, dead hands. Where a certain amount of paranoia is healthy in these lands, his became crippling and all-consuming; as far as he was concerned, the world hated him, wanted him dead...and he hated the world in kind.




All except Gargamel, of course. Gargamel Grenier, cousin to the Countess of Negev, was often in company of Lusignan as a child. Though neither were particularly close friends, they had a rapport, with Lusignan - a few years Gargamel's junior - considering him the closest thing to a brother he never had; for Gargamel's part, being with young Lusignan was at least better than being stuck in Castle Negev and the constant reminder that he would never come to rule as long as that woman ruled. Through correspondence the two wove woeful tales of their 12th century problems. It was in these letters that Lusignan eventually made known his distrust of the council his father left him, especially the doddering and incompetent old chancellor, Ancel de Massada; Gargamel quickly offered his services. To the count, this was a glorious boon, as his "friend" was also a gifted orator, a cunning wordsmith and quick thinker, and he quickly and delightedly accepted him as his new right hand and chancellor, unceremoniously removing Ancel from Beersheb.

More than that though, Gargamel had an ambitious streak tempered in the halls of Castle Negev, and with a silver tongue and the trusting ear of his newfound lord, persuaded Lusignan that he was deserving of far more than just his "rightful" claim to the ancestral family home of Ibelin castle, but the entirety of Jaffa. The Count bit the bait, and, with the help of a little liquid courage at the Duke of Ascalon's next yule feast, proudly proclaimed his intention to "reclaim" his family's rightful dominion; Neither the Baron of Ibelin nor the Count of Darum were pleased, to say the least. Of course, even though he held rightful claim to the lands, Lusignan lacked authority to sieze them, as crown laws prevented land changing hands by anything other than sale or inheritance; as time went on, Lusignan grew more and more stressed, impatient, and envious of those that held what rightfully belonged to himself, powerless to do anything other than tend to his business ventures and wait for Gargamel to somehow convince the Lords of the Realm to pressure the king into changing the laws.

In the end, the plot would prove fruitless, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.




In the meantime, Lusignan grew even more weary of live and love at home. He had a rocky relationship with his first wife, Princess Adelaide of France, once even declaring (in typical paranoid fashion) that she had been unfaithful and their first child a bastard, though eventually seeing "reason" and renouncing his declaration. Neither having particularly common interests outside of their two daughters, when Adelaide eventually saw herself crowned Queen of France on 20 March, 1209, the two parted ways as she went to her court in Paris with the children, and the new King-consort kept to his business of trade and finance in Beersheb. France was in a state of constant crisis and civil war, however; Adelaide's body succumbed to depression on 20 May 1214, their daugher Mafalda - deeply depressed herself at her mother's death - followed some years later, and poor young Denise followed just months later in a tragic and mysterious accident, ending the short d'Ibelin rule of France.

The deaths changed Lusignan. Once more alone in the world, he secluded himself in his study with his books and accounts. He railed against the injustice of the world: how could he, who did nothing but mind his own matters and perform his good godly duties as required, how could his entire family be so slaughtered for the political whims of criminals, how could he be so punished while plotters and murderers reaped the rewards of their deeds? How could savage devil worshipers parade beyond our borders, doing murder and worse against good Christian men and women? How could a supposedly good and just God not just permit such evil, but allow it to thrive?

Either God is a charlatan, or God is an ignorant fool.




As if to spite the world and the unjust so-called "God" that tormented him, he applied himself to his work in a manner that saw him earn praise from his peers: he became a master of trade and the foremost patron to business and the Guilds in the realm, turning Beersheb into a minor hub of commerce; he became a loving and devoted husband and father to his new wife - Princess Damiane of Constantinople - and their four daughters, who loved him in kind; he drew up plans for and founded the new city of Estemon; he plotted new intrigues with Gargamel's help, forming several alliances with many lords above his station; he even rode forth of his own accord to aid his King against the Muslim hordes, finding his courage and his pride by winning at the head of his own army. So devoted to his work, Lusignan didnt' have time to dwell upon his fears, and grew more outgoing, more relaxed in his governance as he relied more and more upon the trusted and capable men his chancelor had placed around him. By all accounts, he became a halfway decent ruler of his tiny realm.




Yet he still lamented the crown laws that trapped his ambitious spirit in Beersheb, until one day Gargamel came to him with a plan: Baudouin the Confessor, King of Jerusalem, had won a long victory over the Muslim menace in Damascus...why not assemble the levies and claim a piece for himself while the heathen sand-devils were weakened? Lusignan liked the idea, and quickly sent a missive to his allies asking for aid. Within four months, a sizable number of men and supplies stood at the ready courtesy of his allies Prince Manuel of the Byzantines and Duke Honfroy of Oultrejourdain, supported by an equal number of proud fighters from the Knights Templar.

On 13 February, 1223, with more than 13,000 men, Lusignan's army marched forth to capture and claim the castle at Madaba. Reaching their destination without incident some weeks later, Marshal Aubry suggested they leave behind half the army to continue the siege as "bait", and march away with the main force under the pretense of seeking out the Muslim army; Lusignan acquiesced, and once the defenders of Madaba saw their enemy left such a small detachment behind, they immediately sent for aid to lift the siege. Just as planned, the Syrian army, still much diminished from its war with the King of Jerusalem, made for Madaba and clashed with the much smaller besiegers at the Battle of Salt; knowing now that the two sides were locked in battle, the other half of Lusignan's army reappeared on the battlefield and caught the enemy in its pincer.

Lusignan won the day as the Muslims were forced to abandon Madaba. Though the castle withheld the siege for some time yet, the battle more or less decided the outcome of the war three years later, when the Syrians formally surrendered Madaba and its surrounds to the Count of Beersheb.




As God willed it, Lusignan wasn't permitted success without pain, and his wife Damiane died two years later after delivering their fourth daughter, due to complications from the pregnancy; she was only 28. Lusignan mourned as is only proper, then arranged a marriage with Dorota Drslavic, the young sister of an adventurer named Einar, a burly Czech beside whom he had fought and shared company on his conquest of Madaba.

Finally, after many attempts, a son was born on 30 July, 1233. Lusignan would willingly admit to others that it was a moment that nearly restored his faith in God, such was the happiest day of his life. Little Sigismond quickly became the apple of his eye, and there was rarely a moment where they weren't at each other's side. For his part, the count nearly forgot all his ambitions, withdrawing from external affairs for thirteen years as he tutored his son and used his sizable fortune to develop his holdings.

But peace could not last for the aging Lusignan. Now old and grey, he received word in November, 1246 that the Pope had called for a holy crusade against the infidel Turks who threatened Christendom in Anatolia. Lusignan sat for a moment with the messenger in his chamber and considered; while he had no love nor care for the pope's wars, Anatolia posed an interesting prospect, a potentially strong position from which to reclaim his rightful hold over Jaffa, should the time come...and why shouldn't he? As Gargamel reminded him, he had a king's fortune at his disposal, a lifetime of thrift and saving; he couldn't take it with him when he died, after all.

Lusignan couldn't deny the truth and wisdom, but his habits demanded prudence: the money would be used only if sorely needed; instead, he would once again call upon the trusted Templars, and now even the Teutonic Knights of the north. Knowing his limits as one not fit for commanding armies, he stayed in Beersheb to manage supplies and finances, instead sending his trusted marshal and nephew, Gerard de Kerak, to command his army northward into Anatolia.




The first battle of the war too place in the hills near Haruniye, where Lusignan's army chased down, caught and defeated the muslim defenders. Gerard, commander of the army, then set it to seige the areas holdings, as he received word of other crusader armies entering the area, some from as far away as Denmark.

Everything seemed to be going fine as the crusaders won a few small victories and captured several holdings, but the tides soon turned as reinforcements from other nearby muslim factions united together and started repulsing the splintered crusader armies. Even the Army of Beersheb was caught and forced to retreat homeward after taking heavy losses in multiple battles. Once back in Beersheb, in need of new men for the fight, Lusignan recalled Gerard to help with recruitment, leaving command of a brand new 18,000 man strong mercenary army to one-time-adventuring-companion-turned-Teutonic-Hochmeister, Einar.

Leading the armies back north, Einar outmaneuvered pursuing Muslim armies before finding himself amongst the rocky, craggy mountains outside Kadirli. Hiding many of his men amongst the rocks in the narrow passes, Einar presented himself as a smaller force as he turned to face the approaching enemy; the Muslims had many more horses, which proved useless and difficult to maneuver in the narrow quarters. Einar's men held their own against the larger forces but were slowly driven back against the pressure...just as Einar intended, as he gave the call to his waiting men, and 8000 howling Slavic killers hurled themselves over the hilltops and descended upon the unaware heathen horde trapped in the gully below.

The Muslims tried to retreat to a more defensibe position, but all around them was a wall of blades and death, fighting in a chaotic melee for hours until the survivors fled in shattered panic; the Army of Beersheb had won the day and crushed the united defending army. They would never again pose a significant threat for the rest of the war, which ended some months later.




The Pope of course called it a great victory for Christ, a sign God surely stood with them; Lusignan gave thanks to his purse that great and powerful miracle worker.

With such a massive new demesne, Lusignan spent much of the next three years managing the urgent affairs of his new realm, appointing bishops, selecting majors, and the like. It was in the middle of these duties, hard at work, that the elderly Count finally passed. He died at his desk, his old bones no longer able to cope with the stress of the job; he was 72 years of age.

His only son, Sigismond, assumed all his lands, titles, and wealth... because, well, you can't take it with you when you go.

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Bonus Pictures! Yay! The state of the world circa April, 1254 AD:

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