No, it’s me watching Bannerlord videos and forgetting how to spell Khitan
The Legacy of Saint Brendan: A History of the Western Hemisphere, 512 to 1400
- Thread starter Rognvald
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Ha, fair enough.
Unrelated, but what's the level of Papal/central Catholic power in this world, and what happened with the Great Schism?
CIF: Papal power and the Schism
The Pope and Catholic hierarchy have a pretty high power level in 1400, enough for the Cinguettists to be uncomfortable about it. The Second Empire (though its more an Empire in name only) is still defender of the faith and has an intensely close relationship with the Pope, which extends to much of Western Christendom.
The Great Schism OTL was facilitated by more secular affairs, perhaps, than ours. Pope Sabinian II (#BattlePope) led the Western Christian armies to save Carthage’s bacon, not Constantinoples, and that made the Emperor pissed. This led to the relationship becoming more strained, until the Pope crowned the Over-King of the Franks Emperor in direct defiance of the Rhomanian Emperor.
What are the borders of the various polities in the Americas? I know that this question is kind of difficult to answer for anything besides modern nation-states, as even the Roman Empire's maps were more aspirational than factual at the edges, but I'd like to at least get an idea of how big the main European colony has gotten. Perhaps Labrador and OTL's Atlantic provinces, following the St. Laurence River and ending a bit west of Toronto, and extending south to Maine? I assume the northern reaches aren't as far as Hudson's Bay, though, especially since the poor soil of the Canadian Shield puts a kibosh on agriculturalist expansion.
Has anything happened in South America, or is it too far away for events in North America to affect it?
That will be the first post of the new thread!
That one is actually a trade secret for the new thread.
Two questions this time, though one is closely related to the first one.
Are there any strong contenders to rebuild the Yabghu Empire?
And has Japan caught the butterflies? If so, what's going on there?
Are there any strong contenders to rebuild the Yabghu Empire?
And has Japan caught the butterflies? If so, what's going on there?
1. The two strongest of the Yabghu successor states are the Kianian Shahs and the Atlasi Shahs. The Kianian’s have their base of support on the Gulf, the Atlasi more close to the Afghan hinterlands.
2. YES... but I have very limited notes on its current state. I know more what it’ll be like in the present, haha
What exactly does it mean to be a non-Arab Ismaili? If they are named in reference to the idea of the desert tribes being the sons of Ishmael, and are articulating their religion as the spirituality of Ishmael, a sort of companion-piece to/spinoff of the spirituality of Israel... how does a non-Arab lay claim to that? Are the Ismailis still claiming to be a universal faith, just one evolving out of the Ishmaelite understanding instead of the Israelite understanding like Christianity? Is it more restricted based on descent, and if so was it always meant to be that way or did it just turn out that way after the generally Arab-particularist character of the Four Great Campaigns and their targets? And might its presence in places like Persia prove ephemeral, especially as Zoroastrian-friendly elements regroup in the east?
And leading off that, if Setraland interacts with Europe through the maple and fur trade, the Ismailis kinda have the same niche: animal products from Africa, and sugarcane plantations in southern Iraq. If those plantations are worked by slaves from Africa obtained from/after the destruction of Axum, then how do those slaves fit into the Ismaili understanding? Do they get to join the faith or are they frozen out by the Ismailis' attitudes toward the continent?
And leading off that, if Setraland interacts with Europe through the maple and fur trade, the Ismailis kinda have the same niche: animal products from Africa, and sugarcane plantations in southern Iraq. If those plantations are worked by slaves from Africa obtained from/after the destruction of Axum, then how do those slaves fit into the Ismaili understanding? Do they get to join the faith or are they frozen out by the Ismailis' attitudes toward the continent?
I actually have a huge documet somewhere about Ismaili religious policy... I’ll have to find it, but it should answer many of your questions.
At the muta (muta), mutabanana (mutabanana), the hottest spot north of Havana...
So even if you're not formally a slave you can still get held back by chauvinism-- like all the negatives of Umayyad governance with none of the positives. I do hope the Africans find a way out of this system, but the monasteries/highland tribal formations that could be expected to lead a revolt or maintain an Axumite/Makurian consciousness must have been destroyed by now...
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Oh, yes I shall! I’ve been swamped with work and another project (check the ASB forum in the coming week), but when things ease up I’ll post it up!
I might even post a few teasers in this thread as well, if y’all would like.
Previews: The Christian Powers, 1400
Frithrborg, Kingdom of Setraland
St. Brendan’s was the ecclesiastical heart of Talbeahan Christianity. The cathedral that dominated the center of town of Frithrborg was truly glorious. It represented the best that this continent had to offer- obsidian and jade from Fjothrland adorning great murals on the walls, dreki leather from Myrwick covering the massive Bible, and gold liberally used throughout. In the center of the chapel lay a stone monument of a bearded man in simple robes, eyes closed in the sleep of death but fingers still forming the sign of blessing. This was the Saint himself, the seafarer who had discovered this place.
Today, as it was a new year, the great bells chimed and the citizens of Frithrborg gathered in the great church for a special mass. The Archbishop of Tarngire, the head of the Church in the Western Hemisphere, read a verse from the Book of Ecclesiastes. Given the splendor around him, his choice must of seemed ironic to those who spoke Latin:
“Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.”
But perhaps it was a fitting choice of words.
Frithrborg, known for centuries before the arrival of the Ostish as Baile na Síochána (Peace-Town), had once been more than the religious capital of Talbeah; it had been the political capital of one of its greatest powers. For nearly three-hundred and forty years, the Hreining Kings of Setraland had called the city home. Most were born in the palace’s Chamber of Saint Brigid, so named for the blessed woman’s visage being painted on the ceiling for laboring mothers to take comfort from. When they grew older, they would be trained for war in the courtyard of the sprawling royal compound. When they ascended to the throne, they would be crowned by the Archbishop amidst cheering crowds at St. Brendan’s Cathedral (which had been built under royal patronage). And when they died, they would be laid to rest in the Royal Chapel, in a tomb built just for them.
Now, though, they weren’t even buried here.
In 1336, the newly elected King Kjaran had traveled to Dun Cormac on the continent alongside his pregnant wife, his retainers, his advisors, and the other hangers-on a royal tends to accumulate. He went ostensibly to accept the crown from the King Thing, the body of nobles and clergy that selected which member of the royal family would become the nation’s leader. Four months later, a message came to the Archbishop, requesting he come to Dun Cormac to anoint him King at the Cathedral of the Queen of Heaven located in that city. Though the Archbishop initially resisted, he eventually gave in.
That was the final blow to the importance of the island of Setraland, formerly known as the Insula Benedicta or Inis Tarngire. Since Brendan’s arrival, the island and the city thereon had been the center of Christian politics. The Gofordi’s had held court on the island, and the Bishop-Abbotts of Brendan’s Monastery had dictated policy from its shores before them. But the creeping cold of the Great Frost and the shift of population centers to lands along the Tullaha River or Wabahhanik coasts had weakened its central importance. Now, Setraland only lent the Kingdom its name.
Dun Cormac, Kingdom of Setraland
A thousand miles away from the Archbishop in Frithrborg, the King of Setraland held a very different celebration of the New Year. After tying his wife’s veil around his arm, King Myrkjartan spurred his horse forward. As he thundered along, he reached into the quiver of javelins at his mount’s side and expertly threw them through the hoops set up alongside. The spears whistled through and buried deep inside the targets behind. A cheer went up from the crowd- the King had made a near perfect run.
This was not the climax of the day, however. As Myrkjartan settled himself back into the royal box, a brave marchawc named Siomon stepped forward into the arena, gripping a spear with an unusually long and narrow blade. He knelt before the King, and made declaration that he would “do a great deed, to win the right of his own patrimony”. When the royal signal was given, a wall on the other side of the arena was opened and out stumbled a truly massive brown bear. The wretched beast had been starved, beaten, and made more aggressive, all for the sake of this show. The marchawc readied himself; the bear, seeing him, charged forward, driven reckless by hunger and rage.
“Though the creature came on boldly, Siomon held his ground till the beast nearly grabbed him with his paw. Then, leaping to the side, he dashed his spear into the creatures eye, lancing it and felling it with one stroke.” The King, impressed, granted him a patrimony of a small village in the far northern frontier.
Alongside mock battles, archery contests, horse races, animal baiting, and games of bata, these events were typical of a commorthas. Similar to the hastiludes of Europe, the commorthas was nevertheless a much more Talbeahan invention. While martial preparations were part of it, a commorthas also had the role of establishing a King as a man of wealth and power. The more magnificent events that were put on, the more evidence it was of a King’s right to rule.
This commorthas in particular had an additional political objective. Myrkjartan, elected by the King Thing just two years before, was trying to gather support for an expedition against the Zhingobiiwaatig Ningodwaaswi, a state which occupied the Neshnabé peninsula. [1] The Zhingobiiwaatig Ningodwasswi (the “Six Pines”, hereafter referred to as the Zhingobiiwatig) had been interfering with Setralander efforts to secure domination over the trade on Lake Cullaun and Lake Kinale [2]. In earlier years, this would have been enough of a justification for war; by the dawn of the 15th century, however, the nobility were less willing to risk war than two or three centuries earlier. The traditional royal policy of allowing fighting among grandees, as long as the flow of sugar continued, had reared up strongly again by this point. Therefore, Myrkjartan’s desired war would take a strong political effort, of which the conmorthas was only a part.
Kathlin, his 5 year old daughter, was promised to the son of the Company Chief of the powerful Crotaigh Company; this had been affirmed in a handfasting over Christmas. At that same ceremony, Myrkjartan had liberally given gifts to various grandees. These ranged from land grants in the frontiers to “ten bolts of silk”, a luxury valued in Talbeah almost as much as territory. This highlighted the seemingly archaic aspect of kingship in Talbeah; while the various states of the Second Empire were beginning to focus more on the power of the monarch, Myrkjartan still had to juggle the delicate game of pleasing the petty nobility.
Asgard, Asgardian Commonwealth
New Year’s was also being celebrated thousands of miles to the South. In the warm, near-tropical environments of Mirwick, there loomed a city built by the flow of gold and trade goods. Ostish-style wooden churches were crammed between drinking dens that were little more than poles supporting palm-leaf roofs. Castles, in the style of the Setralander fortresses, guarded the perimeter, while in the center of the city three massive pyramids loomed. These were created with imported stone blocks- the prime example of the Mirwick Pyramids, mimicking those structures of Fjothrland.
This was Asgard- capital of the Commonwealth of the same name.
At the top of the greatest of the Pyramids sat the Council of Asgard, three men and one woman. Attendants and advisors swarmed from the pyramid’s interior, emerging from near-hidden antechambers to deliver reports and information to their masters. Along the long exterior stairs leading to the central platform came a procession of petitioners, some wealthy, some poor, some wearing the little-to-no clothing of the Lukkai. For the Asgardian Council was spending this first day of the New Year forgiving debts, resolving disputes, and otherwise playing at the attentive overlords.
The rest of the year, they generally ignored such business, fobbing it off on a variety of lesser officials. They were too focused on issues of more grave importance- the expansion of trade, especially vis a vis the Purepechan Empire. Over the past few hundred years, the Purepechans had brought much of Fjothrland under their direct or indirect control. This had placed the Asgardians at a disadvantage; no longer could they play petty states against each other for better trade deals. The Purepechans possessed a strong business sense, and were firm negotiators.
This was the second of a string of missteps that had afflicted the thalassocracy in the past century. The Pawu War, a titanic conflict over control of trade along the Shigu River, had drained many men and much treasure until that island state was reduced to so much rubble. The prize itself had been squandered; European diseases tore through the communities of the virgin interior, forcing people to flee their settlements for the jungle. Even now, the former trading towns and farmlands were being reclaimed by nature, the trade route all but forgotten (save for a few adventurous souls).
As they half-listened to pleas about fences and cattle grazing rights, the Council was already plotting their next move to restore Asgardian prominence. Their eyes were cast towards the Kikadit River, the mighty thoroughfare of Talbeah. A small outpost at the mouth of that river marked their only presence on this vital trade organ. Wheels were already in motion for trade expeditions to be sent upriver, to try to bring the natives there to trading terms.
[1] OTL Michigan
[2] Lake Erie and Lake Huron
St. Brendan’s was the ecclesiastical heart of Talbeahan Christianity. The cathedral that dominated the center of town of Frithrborg was truly glorious. It represented the best that this continent had to offer- obsidian and jade from Fjothrland adorning great murals on the walls, dreki leather from Myrwick covering the massive Bible, and gold liberally used throughout. In the center of the chapel lay a stone monument of a bearded man in simple robes, eyes closed in the sleep of death but fingers still forming the sign of blessing. This was the Saint himself, the seafarer who had discovered this place.
Today, as it was a new year, the great bells chimed and the citizens of Frithrborg gathered in the great church for a special mass. The Archbishop of Tarngire, the head of the Church in the Western Hemisphere, read a verse from the Book of Ecclesiastes. Given the splendor around him, his choice must of seemed ironic to those who spoke Latin:
“Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.”
But perhaps it was a fitting choice of words.
Frithrborg, known for centuries before the arrival of the Ostish as Baile na Síochána (Peace-Town), had once been more than the religious capital of Talbeah; it had been the political capital of one of its greatest powers. For nearly three-hundred and forty years, the Hreining Kings of Setraland had called the city home. Most were born in the palace’s Chamber of Saint Brigid, so named for the blessed woman’s visage being painted on the ceiling for laboring mothers to take comfort from. When they grew older, they would be trained for war in the courtyard of the sprawling royal compound. When they ascended to the throne, they would be crowned by the Archbishop amidst cheering crowds at St. Brendan’s Cathedral (which had been built under royal patronage). And when they died, they would be laid to rest in the Royal Chapel, in a tomb built just for them.
Now, though, they weren’t even buried here.
In 1336, the newly elected King Kjaran had traveled to Dun Cormac on the continent alongside his pregnant wife, his retainers, his advisors, and the other hangers-on a royal tends to accumulate. He went ostensibly to accept the crown from the King Thing, the body of nobles and clergy that selected which member of the royal family would become the nation’s leader. Four months later, a message came to the Archbishop, requesting he come to Dun Cormac to anoint him King at the Cathedral of the Queen of Heaven located in that city. Though the Archbishop initially resisted, he eventually gave in.
That was the final blow to the importance of the island of Setraland, formerly known as the Insula Benedicta or Inis Tarngire. Since Brendan’s arrival, the island and the city thereon had been the center of Christian politics. The Gofordi’s had held court on the island, and the Bishop-Abbotts of Brendan’s Monastery had dictated policy from its shores before them. But the creeping cold of the Great Frost and the shift of population centers to lands along the Tullaha River or Wabahhanik coasts had weakened its central importance. Now, Setraland only lent the Kingdom its name.
Dun Cormac, Kingdom of Setraland
A thousand miles away from the Archbishop in Frithrborg, the King of Setraland held a very different celebration of the New Year. After tying his wife’s veil around his arm, King Myrkjartan spurred his horse forward. As he thundered along, he reached into the quiver of javelins at his mount’s side and expertly threw them through the hoops set up alongside. The spears whistled through and buried deep inside the targets behind. A cheer went up from the crowd- the King had made a near perfect run.
This was not the climax of the day, however. As Myrkjartan settled himself back into the royal box, a brave marchawc named Siomon stepped forward into the arena, gripping a spear with an unusually long and narrow blade. He knelt before the King, and made declaration that he would “do a great deed, to win the right of his own patrimony”. When the royal signal was given, a wall on the other side of the arena was opened and out stumbled a truly massive brown bear. The wretched beast had been starved, beaten, and made more aggressive, all for the sake of this show. The marchawc readied himself; the bear, seeing him, charged forward, driven reckless by hunger and rage.
“Though the creature came on boldly, Siomon held his ground till the beast nearly grabbed him with his paw. Then, leaping to the side, he dashed his spear into the creatures eye, lancing it and felling it with one stroke.” The King, impressed, granted him a patrimony of a small village in the far northern frontier.
Alongside mock battles, archery contests, horse races, animal baiting, and games of bata, these events were typical of a commorthas. Similar to the hastiludes of Europe, the commorthas was nevertheless a much more Talbeahan invention. While martial preparations were part of it, a commorthas also had the role of establishing a King as a man of wealth and power. The more magnificent events that were put on, the more evidence it was of a King’s right to rule.
This commorthas in particular had an additional political objective. Myrkjartan, elected by the King Thing just two years before, was trying to gather support for an expedition against the Zhingobiiwaatig Ningodwaaswi, a state which occupied the Neshnabé peninsula. [1] The Zhingobiiwaatig Ningodwasswi (the “Six Pines”, hereafter referred to as the Zhingobiiwatig) had been interfering with Setralander efforts to secure domination over the trade on Lake Cullaun and Lake Kinale [2]. In earlier years, this would have been enough of a justification for war; by the dawn of the 15th century, however, the nobility were less willing to risk war than two or three centuries earlier. The traditional royal policy of allowing fighting among grandees, as long as the flow of sugar continued, had reared up strongly again by this point. Therefore, Myrkjartan’s desired war would take a strong political effort, of which the conmorthas was only a part.
Kathlin, his 5 year old daughter, was promised to the son of the Company Chief of the powerful Crotaigh Company; this had been affirmed in a handfasting over Christmas. At that same ceremony, Myrkjartan had liberally given gifts to various grandees. These ranged from land grants in the frontiers to “ten bolts of silk”, a luxury valued in Talbeah almost as much as territory. This highlighted the seemingly archaic aspect of kingship in Talbeah; while the various states of the Second Empire were beginning to focus more on the power of the monarch, Myrkjartan still had to juggle the delicate game of pleasing the petty nobility.
Asgard, Asgardian Commonwealth
New Year’s was also being celebrated thousands of miles to the South. In the warm, near-tropical environments of Mirwick, there loomed a city built by the flow of gold and trade goods. Ostish-style wooden churches were crammed between drinking dens that were little more than poles supporting palm-leaf roofs. Castles, in the style of the Setralander fortresses, guarded the perimeter, while in the center of the city three massive pyramids loomed. These were created with imported stone blocks- the prime example of the Mirwick Pyramids, mimicking those structures of Fjothrland.
This was Asgard- capital of the Commonwealth of the same name.
At the top of the greatest of the Pyramids sat the Council of Asgard, three men and one woman. Attendants and advisors swarmed from the pyramid’s interior, emerging from near-hidden antechambers to deliver reports and information to their masters. Along the long exterior stairs leading to the central platform came a procession of petitioners, some wealthy, some poor, some wearing the little-to-no clothing of the Lukkai. For the Asgardian Council was spending this first day of the New Year forgiving debts, resolving disputes, and otherwise playing at the attentive overlords.
The rest of the year, they generally ignored such business, fobbing it off on a variety of lesser officials. They were too focused on issues of more grave importance- the expansion of trade, especially vis a vis the Purepechan Empire. Over the past few hundred years, the Purepechans had brought much of Fjothrland under their direct or indirect control. This had placed the Asgardians at a disadvantage; no longer could they play petty states against each other for better trade deals. The Purepechans possessed a strong business sense, and were firm negotiators.
This was the second of a string of missteps that had afflicted the thalassocracy in the past century. The Pawu War, a titanic conflict over control of trade along the Shigu River, had drained many men and much treasure until that island state was reduced to so much rubble. The prize itself had been squandered; European diseases tore through the communities of the virgin interior, forcing people to flee their settlements for the jungle. Even now, the former trading towns and farmlands were being reclaimed by nature, the trade route all but forgotten (save for a few adventurous souls).
As they half-listened to pleas about fences and cattle grazing rights, the Council was already plotting their next move to restore Asgardian prominence. Their eyes were cast towards the Kikadit River, the mighty thoroughfare of Talbeah. A small outpost at the mouth of that river marked their only presence on this vital trade organ. Wheels were already in motion for trade expeditions to be sent upriver, to try to bring the natives there to trading terms.
[1] OTL Michigan
[2] Lake Erie and Lake Huron
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