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

Artio, a sturdy young peasant from the nearby village, had just completed the arduous task of running 20 laps around the training camp as part of the recruitment process for the royal army. Covered in sweat and dirt, he threw himself to the ground, panting heavily from the physical exertion. His rough, calloused hands clenched the earth beneath him as he gasped for breath.

His clothing, a simple and well-worn ensemble of tattered trousers and a faded shirt, bore the telltale signs of a life spent toiling in the fields. Artio's sun-kissed skin, darkened from hours under the relentless Sicilian sun, glistened with perspiration as he lay sprawled on the earth.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on his face, etching lines of weariness that belied his youth. With each deep inhalation, he fought to regain control over his breath, determination and a hint of desperation gleaming in his eyes.

Recruitment for the royal army(3)