My amphibian baby machine has finally understood her purpose and is carrying a heir for me. Life is good!
Yes, a son! And what do you know, he doesn't look like a perch. For a moment there I think I should call him Abbondio, but in the end Benevuto sounds much better.
A courier informs me that something is going on behind the scenes in England. No matter how many times he spells it, all I get is a "faction", which doesn't make any sense.
Oh, hey, what's this? My family records never mentioned any of this. All I found was a tea stained little note titled "patch notes", which didn't make any sense either. But it appears that my generation can join these little clubs that have all sorts of funny goals. Cool! Down with the king, I say!
Being such a cool backstabber that I am, the King rewards me with a honorary title.
Eh, come to think of it, I'm doing well enough at the moment. Overthrowing the King might have some serious consequences to my ability to be stinking rich playboy. It was a stupid club anyway.
My wife informs me that I now have a daughter. Funny. I can't remember banging her. Must be my mind trying to erase the unpleasant memories.
But since I do remember having a son, I decide to get a future wife for him. The daughter of the King sounds influental enough. Always good to have Kings in your family, I think.
Some old crone prophetically chastizes me for taking too many risks in my endeavours. I have no idea what she means, but she says I'll find out soon enough.
Oh. Perhaps she meant forgetting that half of my subjects want to kill me and the other half can't make up its mind. One of the more influental ones, Earl What's-With-The-Funny-Name says he wants to be Duke instead of the Duke, but my loyal spymaster informs me on time.
After waking up next to the severed head of his favorite horse next morning, he agrees that it was a silly idea.
But according to all good traditions, right after the apology my eldest son and only heir suffers a sudden accident that leaves him with ten knives sticking out from his back. Oh Benevuto, we hardly knew ye. Should have named him Abbondio after all.
I can't prove it, but I think it was my current heir Sigeweard. I couldn't tell if he was laughing in the funeral, because he had conviniently grown a beard to cover his chin. However, whoever it was that murdered my dear...what was his name again?...Anyway, who ever it was, had one flaw in the plan.
Namely that I can simply make more heirs.