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

Upon the great city of Palermo, the night unfolded like a tale spun by a bard in a grand hall. The city's streets, dimly lit by flickering torches and the occasional lantern, came alive with the muffled sounds of shuffling footsteps on cobblestone pathways.

The towering, stone-built structures, harking back to a bygone era, loomed over the winding streets, their weathered facades telling stories of knights, nobility, and timeless traditions. Wooden shutters creaked as they closed for the night, securing the warmth within the homes.

By the harbor, the sea whispered ancient secrets, the cool night air tinged with the scent of salt and seaweed. The moon, a silvery sentinel in the obsidian sky, cast an ethereal glow upon the city, revealing glimpses of its historical splendor.

Drinking like peasants(1)