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.




---------------

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

Shout of thanks to : Tryhardermen for his 4 golden tickets

Caerleon117 for his two golden tickets!

As the enemy retreated, Antonio couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions coursing through him. Relief washed over him like a soothing wave, and he let out a deep sigh, as if releasing all the tension that had been building within him throughout the battle. He was still alive, still standing on that blood-soaked ground, and it was a feeling of triumph in itself.

The wind brushed against his face, and he welcomed the sensation as if it were a gentle caress from the divine. It was a reminder of the simple pleasures of life that often went unnoticed in the chaos of battle. In that moment, Antonio found himself marveling at the beauty of the world around him—the rustling leaves, the distant song of a bird, and even the earthy scent of the forest floor beneath his feet.

No french(4)