Count Geoffroy of Thouars, 877-897 AD

(Previously on Royal Dispatch.)

Back home, my lovely little heir Aliénor is finally of age and ready to marry. Time to find her a suitable husband! There are a host of issues to consider when looking to marry out your heir, and they’re both more complicated and simpler when your heir is female.

Since titles in my realm (for now) pass through males exclusively, a “regular” marriage would mean that my dynasty would die out when Aliénor dies and her own heir inherits, as the heir would be considered part of Aliénor’s husband’s dynasty rather than her own. Following so far? However, you can insist on a matrilineal marriage instead, which keeps the titles safely on the lady’s side of inheritance. Of course, bachelors interested in a marriage that automatically disinherits their family are usually on the sketchy side. Hence: Blahoslav.

Look, Blahoslav has his good points! I chose him for his high stewardship and reasonable diplomacy scores, in which poor Aliénor has a zero and a 6, respectively. And yes, he’s Slovien and lowborn with no family, and ten years older than Aliénor. And, that name. Blahoslav. Not the most lyrical. But men in matrilineal marriages are relatively disposable, and with luck these two crazy kids will have bunch of viable kids before Geoffroy kicks the bucket.

Speaking of which, Blahoslav wasted no time in getting busy. Even named my new granddaughter and grand-heir after my wife. Suck-up.

In a shocking development, my liege Duke Ramnulf declared a holy war versus my infidel neighbor Count Hæsteinn. This complicates my own designs on Montaigu unfortunately, as it will be challenging to finagle that county away from my own liege rather than take it by force from the infidels. Best result would be for Ramnulf to seriously hurt Hæsteinn without actually winning, allowing me to mop up after the fact.

Unfortunately, Hæsteinn instead raises even more troops and lays siege to my castle, since (as a vassal of Ramnulf) I’m technically if not enthusiastically part of the war against him. Very much not good, as Ramnulf does not appear inclined to aid me. Having your main castle sacked is a fine way to see your family, courtiers, and even your player character captured or killed, not to mention losing gold to the sacking. Oh, the sacking! On the plus side, Ermengarde (my wife, not my granddaughter) is pregnant again.

And sure enough, Hæsteinn easily sacks Thouars and kidnaps both Ermengardes, while also killing my chancellor. Filthy northman! Well at least my wife, my precious soulmate, my lover will be safe from the war in prison.

Well this message is quite the journey, isn’t it? Sir, may I remind you she is pregnant! What a rogue. The realm must go on, mind you, and one consequence of this dire turn of events is that Ermengarde and I are automatically divorced, putting me back on the market. I quickly marry a nice young lady named Gudrun von Lichtenfels, who happens to be very good at diplomacy for her young age of 18. One of the reasons she’s good at diplomacy is that she’s extremely paranoid, making her difficult to seduce or romance. Oh well, let’s just hope nature takes its course, babywise.

While I was distracted by having my wife stolen, my top liege King Charles the Bald managed to fend off his own Norse invasion, so there’s that. Having occupied my lands, Hæsteinn sends his army deeper into Duke Ramnulf’s territory, who simply walks his own forces around him, past my poor occupied county, and over to besiege Hæsteinn’s castle at Montaigu. Thanks for nothing, boss.

After taking one of Ramnulf’s castles, Hæsteinn marches his army home and breaks Ramnulf’s siege with prejudice. This is good actually, in the long view of me eventually sweeping Hæsteinn after the war, as he’ll be weakened even if he wins. His army is now 90% mercenaries and special soldiers, none of which are renewable forces.

My ex-wife Ermengarde gave birth to our daughter in captivity—yet another daughter, also named Ermengarde. That’s three Ermengardes if you’re counting. And the newest Ermengarde was promptly shipped back to me. Guess the baby was cramping Hæsteinn’s whole concubine vibe with my ex.

And speaking of babies! Welcome to Guy and Gilbert!

My new wife Gudrun wasted absolutely no time in producing not one but two sons, meaning I have a new male heir and a backup besides. In a bizarre twist that I can only assume is a bug, I have somehow also fathered a bastard daughter on my ex-wife Ermengarde, supposedly ensconced as a concubine of Hæsteinn. I’m given the option of keeping quiet about it or revealing her heritage, so of course I’m going to spill the beans! That’s right Hæsteinn, I slept with my ex-wife soulmate lover who you kidnapped and made your concubine, apparently also cheating on my new wife!

My attempt to retain the moral high ground (?) somehow backfires, as I am branded an adulterer for sleeping with my kidnapped ex-wife, and my new wife Gudrun now hates me. The Church is not happy with this turn of events, even though I bet they couldn’t really diagram the sins involved at this point.

After another loss in battle, Duke Ramnulf then lost the whole war with Hæsteinn, and he didn’t do a whole lot of damage to the latter’s army. Really the most likely positive outcome at this point is that the annoyingly durable Hæsteinn will die of old age—he’s almost 70 for god’s sake—and much of his army won’t transition to his heir.

Bankrupt and abused, Ramnulf promptly loses another war with a neighboring duke over one of his counties. Hæsteinn takes his morbidly large army across the sea to try and conquer part of Muenster in Ireland for some reason, which might finally be what breaks him as the opposing forces seem evenly matched.

The plan is just to sit back and gradually accumulate taxes and children until I can strike at the right time. But then!

Now usually schemes to murder you involve someone who benefits from your death, or someone who hates you, or both. Since my heir Guy is still a baby, my death would lead to a regency that might not have my dynasty’s best interests at heart. Let us investigate! By which I mean, hope my spymaster figures it out. But then!

My wife Gudrun has given me a nice rug! Now, I have access to unfair extra-game knowledge from past playthroughs that this carpet thing is quite often a poisoned device meant to kill the recipient. Is Gudrun still mad about that little adultery thing? She is paranoid, after all … probably best to toss out the rug.

Guy, my guy, my son and heir, is 6 years old and ready for a guardian. Remember Blahoslav? He’s still around! And in fact he’s really good at stewardship, which is what Guy is training for. However, I also happen to know Blahoslav’s secret: he’s an atheist. That’s like burning-at-the-stake type crime here in 889 AD, but I don’t particularly care. Of more concern is that he might infect my heir with his unbelief while tutoring him in money stuff. Something to watch out for.

My little daughter Adelaide is now of marriageable age, and with two sons doing the heir-work, I can shop my daughters around for political advantage, or possible dynastic connections useful later on. I match her up with a neighboring count whose lands I covet. He’s not much of an ally militarily, but we’ll see how it goes. Congratulations … uh, Bernard!

My apparently immortal neighbor Hæsteinn somehow won his invasion of Muenster and has two more counties there under his control. No sooner has he declared victory though than the petty king of Wessex declares holy war right back at him with 3x the troops. I’d like to see ol’ Count Hæsteinn wriggle his way out of THIS jam!

He does not in fact wriggle his way out of the jam, and while I’m glad to finally see the back of Hæsteinn, now I have an even bigger obstacle in taking over Montaigu. The county’s new owner is Petty King Alfred Æthelwulfson of Wessex, and this guy is basically Superman. Check out those ability scores.

20+ almost across the board. Highly unlikely I will beat this guy straight up, so it’s back to waiting for someone else to paste him. Entirely possible he’ll come for me of course! And he would win. And he’d be right to win, because he’s a superior being.

Not so superior is my wife Gudrun, who in a unsurprising turn of events has in fact been trying to murder me. Discovery ends her plot, so I’m in no immediate danger, and have no particular reason to throw her in the dungeon (yet). But if I ever need a reason, now I have one!

Back to the important stuff, i.e. to whom can I marry off my daughters? Adelinde is the next young lady to reach marriageable age. She’s a little person, which comes with its own prejudices, but she’s also a sadist, which is actually bad.

Fortunately the young heir of my very own boss Duke Ramnulf is also a sadist! The two of thing will be so cute together torturing people, assuming young Arnaud doesn’t break the engagement when he grows up. I’ll violate my usual rule against betrothals for a shot at melding with the duke’s bloodline.

Elsewhere in my own bloodline, remember my neighbor Count Bernard? Well, apparently not even rocking a sweet new stache prevented his wife (my daughter Adelaide) from sleeping around. Just like her old man! Except, she’s in jail now.

Meanwhile, one of the Ermengardes is ready to marry—this one is my granddaughter, but since she’s in my court I still call the shots, matrimonially speaking. The shot I call is one Count Rorgon of Ruen, another banked alliance and potential inheritance track down the road.

My long-serving and insufferable bishop finally dies off, and his replacement immediately endorses me (barely). Finally a path forward into your grace, O Lord. Back in England, war breaks out between Wessex and East Anglia. Wessex has an edge but their forces are comparable. Now that I have a few marriage-allies of my own, I could potentially risk an attack to take Montaigu while Wessex is distracted. Let’s see how it goes.

In much darker tidings, my wife Gudrun goes nuts and murders my daughter Aliénor!

What the eff Gudrun! Recall that Aliénor was my eldest daughter and initial heir until male twins Guy and Gilbert came on the scene. She’d been cooling her heels around court along with good old Blahoslav, a threat to nobody. Nothing to be gained by killing her except for being insane. Not to mention I could have averted all this if I had imprisoned Gudrun back when she was trying to murder me. Well, I won’t make that mistake again.

Rot in hell, etc. My twin sons will hate me for executing their mother, but she was clearly a danger to anyone around her. And guess what, time to find a new wife!

Next: Why Can't I Stop Marrying Murderers.