Allevatore_dicapre

In a usurped kingdom , amid a war-torn and  blood-soaked Italy, Conradin's battleground is set. To reclaim his birthright the crown of Sicily,  he must tread a path paved with blood, learning that he must do whatever it takes to ascend the throne.




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In the year 1266, the tale of Conradin, the last scion of an ancient imperial dynasty, unfolds. His once-great kingdom, Sicily, has been ruthlessly usurped first by his own uncle and now rests in the hands of the cunning French Count Charles. Through a treacherous plot involving the Pope, Charles managed to oust the Hohenstaufen from the Kingdom of Sicily and crowned himself as its king.

In the East, powers such as the Despotate of Epirus are keenly observing the instability in Sicily, poised to seize any advantage that may arise from the chaos. Meanwhile, the small Italian communes are caught in the political crossfire, aligning themselves with one side of the conflict or the other based on the prevailing political party in power and their vested interests. These shifting allegiances turn the Italian peninsula into a powder keg, where all-out war seems inevitable.

As the shadows of history close in around Conradin, the world watches with bated breath. Will he emerge triumphant, his name forever etched in the annals of Sicilian glory as the rightful king who defied insurmountable odds, toppling both the Pope and the usurper? Or will he, in his valiant struggle, become a tragic figure, a symbol of lost opportunities and shattered dreams? The future of Sicily hangs in the balance, and Conradin's destiny remains uncertain, poised on the precipice of history.

The return of the fallen king

''Hey guys consider reading my other novel transmigrated in another world as a magicless person''

On the morning of July 5, 1267, the anticipation of battle hung heavy in the air. Soldiers bustled about the camp, their movements purposeful and determined. The day they had trained for and dreaded had finally arrived, and each warrior was prepared to give their all in the impending conflict.

As the soldiers emerged from their tents, they were a sight to behold, clad in armor and armed to the teeth. The infantry and crossbowmen donned their chainmail, padding, helmets, and weapons with precision and care. Crossbowmen meticulously polished their weapons, ensuring that no imperfections marred their effectiveness, preventing any potential injuries from recoil. The infantry and men-at-arms, on the other hand, focused on sharpening their swords and axes to razor-like perfection, ready to deliver precise and lethal blows to the enemy.

Kings' gazes(1)