WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Ceaseless
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈
Chapter 21: The Excommunication Decree
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Buda, the capital of Hungary.
Spring was in full bloom on the terrace of the royal palace overlooking the Danube River, yet the air there was colder than midwinter.
Sigismund von Luxembourg, the master of the terrace, sat deeply sunk into an ornately decorated chair.
Fifty-two years old. An age considered old for a man of the Middle Ages.
Even so, his eyes still shone like those of a bird of prey, and his red beard carried the majesty of a lion's mane.
The son of Charles IV, called the father of Bohemia.
At the age of twenty, he had faced the vast army of the Ottoman Turks at Nicopolis. He had convened the Council of Constance and reunited the papacy, which had been split in three. He was Europe's mediator.
No one in Europe could question his authority. Even the Pope had to mind his mood. He stood at the peak of secular power.
“Your Majesty. Urgent news has arrived from Prague.”
Sigismund slowly swirled a golden cup filled with Tokaji wine.
“Speak. Now that my brother Wenceslaus is dead, have those heretics finally decided to surrender?”
A relaxed smile hung on his lips.
His brother Wenceslaus IV had been incompetent and lazy.
With him dead, the crown of Bohemia returning to its rightful heir was as natural as the sun rising in the east.
Jan Žižka had suddenly appeared, and the crusaders Sigismund had so carefully gathered had been beaten like dogs, but...
That had only happened because he had let his guard down for a moment. Sigismund was firmly convinced there would not be a second time.
Yet the messenger's next words shattered the Emperor's expectations.
“Th-that is not it, Your Majesty... The Count of Sternberg...”
“Sternberg? Ah, Ulrich? I heard he somehow drove off the Hussite army that attacked his castle. Has he caused some kind of trouble?”
“He... He has ascended the throne of Bohemia himself.”
Clang!
The golden cup slipped from Sigismund's hand and struck the floor. Red wine spread across the marble like blood.
Silence followed. A suffocating silence.
“...Say that again.”
The messenger swallowed hard.
The man before him was a cold-blooded man who had sent Jan Hus to the stake and massacred thousands of heretics. One wrong word could cost him his head.
“C-Count Sternberg... proclaimed himself king in Prague's Old Town Square.”
“King?”
Sigismund's mouth twisted.
“The crown of Bohemia is mine. From the moment my brother died, that crown became a sacred object that only I may wear! Yet that backwater count, a man with no certain lineage, dares to claim the throne?”
“B-but... the citizens of Prague are calling him the King of Bohemia and celebrating him.”
“A king of the people?”
Sigismund let out a hollow laugh.
“Who do they call king? I am Bohemia's rightful king! He is nothing but a heretic and a usurper!”
“Th-that is true! The count...”
“He is not a count!”
Sigismund sprang from his seat. The chair toppled backward with a loud crash.
“Do you not know that even his title as count was recognized by me? And he dares betray me? That thief... that usurper... that so-called Heretic King!”
Sigismund shouted at the map hanging on the wall. His gaze was fixed on Prague, the heart set at its center.
“Secretary! Take up your pen! Send a letter to the Roman Papacy. No, issue an imperial decree to every prince in Europe!”
His voice struck the high ceiling of the palace.
“This is no longer a simple suppression of rebellion. It is a holy war!”
“Y-Your Majesty... do you mean to declare a crusade?”
“That is right! Those filthy heretics stole my crown and falsely claimed the kingship! My rage will not be satisfied until I strip their flesh from their bones and grind them to dust!”
Sigismund drew the sword at his waist. Its sharp blade flashed under the chandelier's light.
Bang!
He drove it down. The tip pierced Prague on the map and buried itself in the table.
Sigismund's eyes narrowed like a snake's.
“Summon every Imperial Elector. Albrecht of Austria, Frederick of Saxony, Frederick of Brandenburg... Gather every soldier who can rally beneath my banner.”
His hand trembled as he gripped the sword hilt embedded in the table.
“Go and tell him. Tell him the Emperor is coming. Tell him I will cut off his head and hang it from Charles Bridge, so he should wash his neck clean and wait!”
“Y-Yes, Your Majesty!”
The messenger fled the audience chamber.
Sigismund drew harsh breaths as he looked down at the floor soaked in blood-red wine.
“Ulrich von Sternberg...”
His teeth ground together.
That red stain looked like the sea of blood that would soon soak Bohemia's fields.
“Fifty thousand.”
Sigismund muttered.
“No, one hundred thousand. I will lead the greatest army in European history. Even if I have to fill Prague's walls with corpses, I will hang your head in the middle of the square.”
The Red Fox's eyes gleamed with murderous intent.
* * *
The excitement of the coronation had not yet faded, and Prague Castle still hummed with a strange mix of heat and tension.
The royal palace where I was staying was filled with luxuries that made Sternberg's lord's chambers seem paltry by comparison.
Massive tapestries, intricately embroidered with gold and silver thread, covered the walls instead of damp, gloomy stone.
Anatolian carpets swallowed even the sound of footsteps, replacing creaking wooden floors.
Even the windows held real, polished glass rather than oiled paper.
Luxuries that, on their own, were worth a small domain's annual income.
I slowly crossed the room and approached the window. Beyond the clear glass, Prague spread out before me like a painting.
An endless sea of red-tiled roofs. The Vltava River flowing through it like a silver ribbon. Hundreds of Gothic spires rising as if to pierce the sky.
The heart of this city, and the place that had now become my kingdom.
The crowd that had been cheering themselves hoarse for me only moments ago now looked as small as ants below.
My reflection faintly appeared in the windowpane.
A man wearing extravagant silk robes and a jewel-studded crown. A man who, only weeks ago, had been a twenty-first-century modern man wandering through an unfamiliar land, and until yesterday, the humble rural lord of Sternberg.
Now, I was the master of this palace and the Kingdom of Bohemia.
‘A king...’
Cheers had filled St. Vitus Cathedral. The crowd's roars had erupted for me.
It was not a blessing. The people had poured every hope, every rage, and every expectation they possessed into me, their vessel.
They needed a hero to save them from this hellish reality.
‘And I willingly accepted the role.’
Once I had stepped onto the stage, there was no way down.
There was only one thing left for me to do.
Bring this story to an ending everyone could accept, and one I wanted.
Just then.
Knock, knock.
A familiar knock shattered my thoughts.
“Come in.”
János Hunyadi entered through the heavy oak door.
He swept his gaze over the splendid room for a moment. Rather than admiration, his eyes held that usual cynical look, as though he was calculating how much he could get by pawning all these luxuries.
János soon gave a small bow toward me as I stood by the window. The gesture carried more familiarity than courtesy.
“Do you like your new home, Your Majesty?”
János deliberately emphasized the words “Your Majesty.”
Instead of answering, I pressed a hand to my forehead. It still felt as though the shouts of thousands were ringing in my ears.
“Don't call me that. It feels so strange it gives me goosebumps.”
“It can't be helped. Lord Ulrich has truly become king now.”
János shrugged.
“Outside the castle, everyone is shouting, ‘Long live King Ulrich!’ It makes me proud. I served an impoverished provincial lord and turned him into a king. Doesn't that prove János has quite an eye for talent?”
I snorted and asked, “So what news did that sharp eye of yours bring? Looking at your face, I doubt you came only to congratulate me.”
“As expected, you are perceptive.”
With his usual teasing smile, János walked over to my desk.
“There is good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”
I thought for a moment before answering.
“The good news.”
“A wise choice. It is easier to swallow bitter medicine after taking something sweet first.”
János took a breath and began his report.
“The good news is that the Prague City Council has sworn absolute loyalty to Your Majesty.”
“Didn't we confirm that at the coronation? Those noble lords looked like they were chewing shit.”
“That was only political rhetoric. This is a practical gift.”
János's eyes shone with excitement.
“About two thousand members of the Prague militia have pledged to follow Your Majesty's orders as a force directly under your command. The City Council has officially transferred command authority to you.”
“The Prague militia?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Only a few weeks ago, I had possessed just thirty soldiers at Sternberg Castle. Even after scraping together every resident in the castle, I could barely fill a few hundred ranks.
Now, two thousand soldiers would move at a single word from me. Calling it a dramatic change did not begin to cover it.
“Yes. Elite troops equipped with funds voluntarily raised by Prague's wealthy merchants and guild masters. Compared to the Taborites under General Žižka, they may be a disorganized rabble, but their armor shines and their spears are well polished. That is still a hundred times better than having none, isn't it?”
“...”
I tapped the desk with my fingers in silence.
Two thousand soldiers. It did not simply mean an increase in military strength.
It also meant that the Moderate Prague nobles and bourgeoisie had not merely reluctantly acknowledged me as king. They had begun actively betting on my survival.
‘They finally understand. If I fall, they will be next. I am the only shield that can block Sigismund's rage.’
A satisfied smile appeared on my face. I now had something real to bargain with.
“Not bad. Then what is the bad news?”
At my question, the playful smile on János's face vanished in an instant.
“Sigismund knows.”
“...”
The satisfaction I had felt moments ago turned cold. What I had expected had come.
“That was faster than I thought. Wasn't the coronation only held today?”
“It seems... there is a rat inside feeding information to him.”
It was not particularly surprising.
I had expected from the beginning that there would be one or two spies within the Hussite leadership leaking information to Sigismund.
János paused and watched my reaction.
“Sigismund was enraged and has sent proclamations throughout the Empire. He claims that heretical Bohemia has raised up a false king and seeks to rebel against the sacred order. In that proclamation, the Emperor called Your Majesty this.”
János lowered his voice.
“‘Ulrich, the Heretic King.’”
The Heretic King.
It was quite an impressive nickname.
“Well, it isn't wrong. To the Pope, I am a heretic, and to Sigismund, I am a thief who stole the throne.”
“That is not the important part. The Emperor is calling on every prince in the Empire to muster for a Second Crusade.”
For once, János looked completely serious.
“Princes across Germany have begun gathering troops. The Elector of Brandenburg, the Elector Palatine, even the Margrave of Meissen... Sigismund will cross the border as early as the beginning of spring, or by summer at the latest. And he will lead an army that cannot be compared to the last one.”
Not much time had passed since the First Crusade had suffered a crushing defeat at Vyšehrad.
This time was different.
The last campaign had been an expedition to punish the heretical Hussites. This would be a war to destroy the Heretic King who had openly defied the Emperor's authority and crowned himself.
Its scale, its justification, and its brutality would certainly surpass the last one.
‘At least tens of thousands. It might even exceed a hundred thousand.’
The forces under my command were limited to two thousand Prague militiamen and several thousand Taborites led by Jan Žižka.
Even if I gathered every private army held by the other Utraquist nobles, it would be difficult to raise a total force of more than twenty thousand.
‘No matter how undefeated a commander Jan Žižka is, will his reputation still hold now that history has changed?’
In the original history, Sigismund's Second Crusade would not reach Bohemia until the end of next year. It had taken that long to persuade the princes and gather an army.
But with me as a variable, Sigismund's clock had begun moving far faster.
He would certainly try to gather his army much more quickly than before.
My very existence would be the most deadly threat and insult to Sigismund, who sought the crown of Bohemia.
‘No matter how I look at it, numbers alone give us no chance.’
Jan Žižka's Wagenburg tactics would not be enough.
As Sternberg had proved, I needed technology beyond this era. I needed overwhelming firepower that would break the enemy's will to fight.
For that, I needed money. Vast sums to make steel, cast cannons, feed soldiers, and clothe them.
Yet the royal treasury at Prague Castle was empty.
The former king, Wenceslaus IV, was infamous as an incompetent tyrant. The only inheritance left by that foolish king, who had spent his life lost in luxury and pleasure, was a treasury full of cobwebs.
Collect more taxes from the people? I had only just gained their support and become king. If I did that, my head would surely be hanging from the city walls the very next day.
That left only one way.
My gaze turned toward the countless spires and bell towers beyond Prague's walls.
Those arrogant, massive buildings adorned with gold and silver.
“János.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Turn every word I say from this moment into a royal decree, without leaving out a single letter, and post it throughout Prague.”
“...What are you planning to say?”
A cold smile formed on my lips.
“To wage war, we need money. Fortunately, the former king left the treasury empty, but he left plenty of very full piggy banks in this city.”
Before long, gold would overflow through Prague.
Footnotes:
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