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Making Peace in the Storm: Oldrich's Legacy in 1019
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Published 4/7/2023In a vibrant clash of cultures, the fiery Montenegrin Duchess Lanical must overcome competing factions, the threat of destruction, and the legacy of Oldrich's death by leprosy to secure a peaceful destiny for the kingdom of Bohemia in 1019.
The sun was a harsh glare in her eyes as she woke up. It took Delia a few minutes to remember where she was and why. She had been traveling for days, but it felt like an eternity.
She rolled over to her side and looked out at the sprawling valley that stretched out in front of her. Neat rows of crops, freshly tilled soil, and straight lines of low fences stood out against the rolling hills on both sides of the valley floor. The hills on the western side were dotted with small settlements - Catruni villages with their straw roofs and stone walls. On the east side, the large forests continued from where the low lying hills ended.
Delia got up slowly, wiped her face with her sleeve, and started walking again.
The sun was high now, and its rays beat down hard on the dry soil. Her feet started to burn under her, but she pressed on nonetheless. She needed to get to the other side before nightfall.
She knew what awaited her if she didn't make it in time - a forced marriage to some boy who hates her just as much as she hates him, who would hit her when he gets drunk, and who would probably die young after fathering a half dozen children on her. It would be unbearable. But how can she convince anyone - let alone the people who are holding the strings - to let her marry someone outside of a politically advantageous alliance? She had no money or titles to offer them. All she had was a burning desire to live life on her terms instead of being an obedient wife who bears children as ordered by some aging lord or lady back home.
"Are you heading towards Cragdun?" A man's voice behind interrupted her thoughts, startling her out of her reverie. As she turned around to look at him, what she saw took her breath away - it was an army! At least three thousand soldiers stood behind the man in neat rows, all dressed in armor with red crosses sewn onto their tunics and shields with one word written in Oldrich's own hand: "Pax". They were armed with swords and spears, bows and arrows, axes and maces - every kind of weapon imaginable lay before Delia's eyes. These men were ready for war.
"Yes," Delia said finally after recovering from shock, "I am."
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This is a work of fiction, assisted by artificial intelligence. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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