Herein lies the journal of Gil Colom, chief advisor of Aragon, and to the noble and blessed King Marti I
This October, I would like to say that I felt blessed with the news that I had been 'given the high honor' to sit on the King's advisory council (with a philospher of all types to serve beside me!), and above that to act as his chief counsel. In reality, my pocketbook was much more blessed than I was, which while small was still a consolation.
You see, though this is nothing that I would assert angrily to his face, our King is nothing but a bloodthirsty war-mongerer. Oh sure, he'll come up with handy excuses as to why we should invade this nation or assassinate the last person to bring him stale bread, but it was the thrill of domination and power over others that drove him. It is easy to see why I've been hired, because I specialize in soothing the wounds that drastic warmongering nations tend to cause in the world.
And immediately after I was summoned to him at Barcelona, heralds came running in from all corners of Europe, announcing that the countryside all over was erupting into war! This could only further serve to fuel our monarch's drive for combat.
Luckily, two of our largest neighbors became embroiled in wars that didn't involve us. Spain has embarked on a holy war against the Muslims in their south, and France has grown weary of the English occupation of some of their territory in their south, although due to an alliance those French frogs are going to have to combat with Portugal as well.
Of course, by the time I find him, King Marti I has readied the troops of the realm, and informs me that I have already gained the privlidge of getting to embark with him on a war of Subjugation of our own. The small country of Navarre apparently has a rather loud-mouthed ambassador that has gone around boasting of how infinitely mighty his nation is, and the King wants us to go show them how small their infinite might is before the Spanish or French decide to do so. Seeing as I am but a smaller man of words and rather larger men with pointy sticks are all around me, I have no choice but to acquiesce and tell King Marti how lucky I feel to undertake such a venture with him!
We meet for battle, and upon seeing the enemy in the distance I am at least given comfort by the fact that our troops outnumber Navarre's fivefold. With more troops being raised from our countryside to assist in the impending siege on Navarre's capital, I hope and pray that this siege will soon be over and that it won't be long before I return to my chair and my wine.
To my surprise, the King doesn't let his blood-clouded mind get to him in regards to tactics, in that regard he seems to command impeccably! He devises a plan to have the calvary flank around and surprise the Navarrians from the rear just as our infintry makes themselves seen at their front. The calvary blast through their ranks as the infintry charge down the hill to their position, and the Navarrians are slaughtered. We lose only a few horsemen in this assult, and none of our infintry! A remarkable feat indeed.
Upon engaging siege our enemy attempts to send out another thousand troops against us, but it pains me to see this hastily outfitted band of stable boys and grandfathers set out for war. Luckily, I had one of my few instances of getting through our King's thick skull. We surrounded them, made them surrender, took away their armor and spears and sent the lot to go back to work in the fields away from this battle.
One of our cavalry was furious that they were being let go after one of his brothers died in the preceeding battle, and attempted to loose his fury on our King. He was the only casualty.
While we were holding siege, we were suprised when two regiments of Sicily appeared along with our own reinforcements. I had sent my counterpart over there a request to formally aid us in stance of war against Navarre to assist in our diplomatic standing around Europe, but the dolt had misunderstood me and sent troops to help hold siege. I thought the King would be furious and insist that we needed no help in this battle, but instead that night outside the walls there wa s anight of drunken carousing like you wouldn't believe.
While I was gone from my central network of diplomatic footboys, I still had a few while I was in Navarre that I told to have envoys with gifts of Ducats sent to Sicily monthly. They are our only ally, and that is a relation I want to only get better in case of any desperate need on our part in the future. (Like if my King went mad and tried to march into Paris with only 50 men around him....)
The King orders a charge on the city, and while the walls are broken and many of their men died to few of ours, our troops' morale broke and retreated, almost leaving our foolhardy king alone in the middle of the burning city. He tells me that he has ordered more wine imported in order to dull their dissatisfaction enough to strike again at the beginning of the month, and I hope he's right. I'm tired of sleeping in a tent with drunken fools lulling their gaudy whores into camp from the countryside, I'd like to only hear quiet as I drift off for the night.
I also get a messenger saying that the Grenadans are currently besieging Madrid, which is completely unprecedented! Maybe Castille is not as strong as we have feared.
Soon enough, we break the will of the remaining defenders and take over the city. The King is adamant about annexing this town and countryside into our province, but since the world knows that we were only serving to humble this province, I tell the king that this would be a bad move and accrue infamy to our name, and that as his diplomat, this move would not be very diplomatic.
I explain to the King how if instead we simply vassalize Navarre, it will be much better off for us. We stand to gain twice as much prestiege among the nations, our troops will feel better about not completely subjugating a people and will gain a proud sense of tradition, And our nation, having accomplished this noble task He set out on in a noble way, will grow to love him more and become more stable and prosperous as a result.
The King, however, still disagrees with me, and claims that he does not care how much other nations care about us, he wants this province under the banner of Aragon. Resignedly, I tell him that actually, it is very likely that ten years to the day from today, the nation of Navarre might become so pleased towards us and our generous guiding hand that they would peacefully become a part of our empire. And that in the meantime, they would be able to train more troops to aid us in battle than we could rouse from among them. At this point, while he makes a remark about the poor quality of their troops, he accepts that I am probably right and agrees to only vassalize Navarre.
He then thanks me by laughing generously, slapping me on the back, and telling me how lucky he is to have such a smart advisor such as I around to help keep himk in line.
My stinging back doesn't appreciate it quite as much.
Upon hearing of our victory and the accomplishment of our mission, our people rejoice at the news and work harder and better, setting our nation on a better path and increasing how effective our people are at doing what they do.
All is well again and I prepare to lead the King's court into a priod of national and diplomatic groth, to elevate our status as a nation of high repute in Iberia and all of Europe. However, before we left Navarre, we had an unfortunate last minute dinner with some travelling French noblemen, where one of the noblemen presented some sardines to our King.
This reminded the King of the Kingdom of Sardinia, which had been under the rule of his grandfather King James before revolting and attaining independence. Being even mor eeasily enraged due to hin intoxication, he declared that we must go and reclaim this Kingdom for the glory and prestige of Aragon.
I just hope that on the way back to Barcelona tomorrow, I'm able to find either some really strong wine of a lovely maiden to provide him an heir, to distract him, because I get seasick, and my chair will never be put onto a boat.