Okay, so just to get started on the premises...man this is gonna be a lot...and quite complicated.
So, this fic is set in the world of Medieval 2: Total War, and the Scottish are the faction in focus. However...the Scotland here in this fic is not the Scotland you see in the default game. See, the Scotland here is not simply "Braveheart Land" like it is in Vanilla M2TW...but is instead a combination of that AS WELL AS, of all things, the various Greek/Hellenic Factions (and to a lesser extent, the Celtic and Thracian Factions) from Total War: Rome 2 (which, by the way, is no longer the buggy mess it used to be). Basically, this Scotland IS Catholic and has the Highlanders and Highland Nobles (which are formally referred to as "Targites/Elite Targites" here thanks to their shield, the Targe), Scots Pikes (which have shields here and wield Sarissa Pikes), and Noble Swordsmen (although they have different shields here and are known by a different name), and such, but they also have Hoplites (in sword and spear varieties), Macedonian-style Pikemen, Hypaspists, Companion Cavalry, various Agema units, Hippeus Lancers, Slingers, Peltasts, as well as Falxmen, Scythian-style archers, and Celtic Oathsworn Heavy Infantry. Yeah, I know...it's a big damn mess, and if something like this were actually in the game, Scotland would be silly overpowered and capable of crushing literally every other faction, even the Mongols and Timurids. But, you know, whatever.
Also, it should be mentioned that this story is inspired by an old (I mean 2006-2007 sort of old) AAR-style story called "A Scotsman In Egypt" by Something Awful Forums user Jerusalem (yes, that's his Username, all credits for "A Scotsman In Egypt" go to him). The story is basically about two Scottish princes who go on a drunken lark into Egypt and carve out their own kingdom there. This fanfic does have the same basic premise and the same characters, and also has (mostly) similar battle results and tides and flows of wars and such. However, the main differences that this fic has is some of the battle results and the exact tactics used in those battles and others, as well as the whole deal with the Greek/Hellenic-style Scottish Armies and also an additional plot point that, as technically being the last of the "Classical Greek" states, they're also the last of the Diadochi (Successors of Alexander The Great).
Anyways, that's it for the (rather long) Author's Notes for the introduction. Begin the story.
600 years after the fall of the Western Roman Empire, Europe, North Africa, and the Near East made for a fragmented world. In Southwest Europe and Northwest Africa, Spain and Portugal sought to push the Moors out of the Iberian Peninsula and back into Mauretania where they belonged. In Central Europe, the Holy Roman Empire sought to conquer the various disparate Rebels that surrounded it, whilst it fought with Venice, Milan, and Sicily for control of the Italian peninsula, and Denmark for control of the North Sea Coast. In Eastern Europe, Poland and Hungary sought to conquer the heathens, heretics, and pagans of the Baltic and Black Sea Coasts, whilst they were being shadowed by the Grand Duchy of Russia. In Southeastern Europe, Anatolia, and the Levant, the Byzantine Empire sought to secure its land against the Saracen Seljuk Turks, whilst Egypt, to the south, sought to exploit the situation to expand its control. And finally, in Northwestern Europe, the new Norman Kingdom of England vied for land with the Kingdom of France, engaged with a great rivalry to see whose domains would become the largest in the end.
However, while most of the European Catholic Countries were former "Barbarian" peoples who had slowly evolved after taking over what was left of the Western Roman Empire, there was one country, to the north of England, that stood out as distinct and different. In the far north of the British Isles, based in the highlands and lowlands, and fielding armies and navies unlike any other...was Scotland.
Compared with the various Feudal Kingdoms, Scotland was in fact a Greek holdover state (albeit rather Celticized) from the Hellenistic Era, having been founded in the first half of the 3rd Century BC by settlers from various Greek and Hellenic states, from Athens, to Sparta, to Epirus, to Egypt, to the Seleucids, to Pontus, to Colchis, to Cimmeria, to Syracuse, to Massilia, to Pergamon, and others, who were told of a "Great Northern Land" that was open for colonization. Whilst all the Mediterranean Greek States fell one by one to the Romans and Parthians, the Vasíleio tis Skotías (Βασίλειο της Σκωτίας), as the Kingdom of Scotland, then known as Skotia, was called in Greek, continued to thrive and flourish, even in the harsh Scottish winters. The Romans under the late 1st Century AD Emperor Agricola were baffled when they met a people that dressed like (to a point), had a similar culture to, and spoke the language of, the Greeks of old, in a land that was this far north and otherwise infested by Barbarians. Through shrewd politics, Skotia managed to maintain its independence by posing as a trade partner and rare peaceful neighbor for the Romans in Britain. In the early 3rd Century AD, Christianity was introduced in Skotia, and had become the main religion of the kingdom by the late 4th Century AD.
After rule of Roman Britain by Roman Emperors was ended by a revolt of various Roman Military Units at the beginning of the 5th Century AD, several Germanic Peoples, the Angles, the Saxons, and the Jutes, invaded that part of Britain in the middle of the Century, and had full control of Southern Britain by the 7th Century. Skotia, which was known as "Scotland" by the Anglo-Saxons, was still thriving and independent, though by this point, its people were now ethnically Celtic and also spoke Gaelic as well as Greek thanks to peoples from Hibernia (now known as Ireland) settling on the country's coastline and assimilating into the Kingdom. Scotland's time of peace ended in the 9th Century, however, when the Vikings came. The Vikings, raiders and invaders from Scandinavia, sought to raid, plunder, and conquer and settle wherever they went, and ended up raiding all over Europe, and yes, this included Scotland. But unlike their fellow European Countries, who struggled for years to fend off the Vikings, the Scots, having been accustomed to fending off raids by Highlanders in the far north who didn't submit to Scottish rule, quickly adapted to the Vikings' tactics. Any Viking who attempted to raid, on Scottish land, all but the poorest and most impoverished villages, would be met with a downpour of arrows, bolts, javelins, and stones, a wave of swords, spears, shields, and axes, and a trampling by horses ridden by men armed with more swords and lances. So many Viking raids and invasions failed that Norsemen seeking to go on these raids would eventually be advised to avoid the land of the "Skotsk". Indeed, while Vikings continued wreaking havoc down south in England, in the north, the Vikings only ended up controlling and settling the far northern tip of the Highlands and the smaller islands around the mainland, that is to say, only land that was not under Scottish Rule.
Beginning with the 10th Century AD, Scotland began facing pressure from the English in Northumberland, who sought to expand their reach Northwards to get more land to use against the Danes. However, they underestimated the Scots, who, whilst quite Celtic now, still fought in the Hellenistic fashion after over 1000 years, and at the battle of Bamburgh in 954, the Scots defeated a much larger English army by letting them charge their ranks, then surrounding them and inflicting a great slaughter on them, much like how the Carthaginians defeated a huge Roman Army at the Battle of Cannae in Italy nearly 1100 years earlier. Over the next 125 years, Scotland and England would have various skirmishes, with more Scottish victories than English victories, and so while something of a stalemate, the English were unable to make any real progress northward, and the Scottish were able to maintain their territory.
But now, in the year of our lord 1080, came a year of a great many changes. These changes would impact not only the British Isles, but also the rest of Europe, the wider near east...no, the entire world. So then, come hither and gather around to hear a tale, a tale that is both an inspirational account of man's ability to survive and even excel in foreign and alien surroundings, and also a warning of the horrors that a man's inability to admit defeat can bring to the innocent.
It all started in one night with two drunken Scottish princes in a recently conquered town...
In the year of our lord 1080, England was ruled by the mighty monarch so fittingly titled "William The Conqueror", who had consolidated his rule in England after defeating Harold Godwinson, his rival for the crown, in the Battle of Hastings in 1066. But to the north, the ruling Scottish King, Malcolm III Armonikos, so nicknamed for the harmony he ruled Scotland with, sought to press his people's position by irritating the English King, knowing that his attention was more wont to stray to France, and that, if suitably prodded, Scotland could gain much from England in their effort to do away with the distraction.
King Malcolm
Age: 50
Governor
Command: 4
Chivalry: 4
Authority: 2
Piety: 5
Retinue: None
Traits: Faction Leader, Aspiring Commander, Talent for Command, Religiously Minded, Skilled Bureaucrat
But the King's elder sons had other ideas.
Edward, eldest but young still, was a bloody-minded fighter who was quick to anger and famously impatient. His younger brother, Edmund, was smarter, but was cursed with a reputation as an academic and weakling. Both Princes of Scotland sat together in Edward's room on that fateful night, both heavily drunk and complaining about what had earlier been their reason for victory drinks. They'd taken the rebel town of York on the ever-shifting border with England, and the Council of Nobles had eagerly rewarded them for their work with donations of money. But the earlier heady celebrations of a triumphant return home from a victory in battle (Edmund's first firsthand experience with war) had turned melancholy, as they discussed the "mission" they'd been given. The rebels at York did attempt to put up a fight, but it's rather hard to defend a town without a wall with only a few hundred men against over a thousand better-armed and better-trained enemies. The ease of this victory had left the two brothers unsatisfied and disgruntled.
"We're Princesh of Shcotlan," Edward snapped angrily,"Nae bloody erran boysh!"
"Who th... who the heh are they tell ush what tah do!" Edmund agreed, then raised himself up high and lifted an arm imperiously, squeaking in a mocking falsetto, "Aye, be gooh ladsh now, an fetch us a Yorksh!"
Edward stared wide-eyed at Edmund, then burst into laughter. He thumped the table and wiped tears from his eyes as Edmund slumped back into his seat, head buzzing and a wide grin on his face.
"Da... Dadsh losht it," Edward grunted finally, after gaining control of himself, "Finksh hesh sho sma... sho smart, playsh all the anglesh, buh wha he don... wha he dinnae geh... wha it ish..."
"ECSHACTLY!" Edmund cried, standing up.
"YESH!" Edward roared, leaping up himself and staggering backward as he almost lost his footing.
"We... We shoul be Kingsh!" Edmund proclaimed.
"Huh?" Edward muttered, struggling to get his treacherous fingers to wrap around the mug's handle, "Nae, I'm older I getsh tah be King firsh."
"Thatsh nae fair," Edmund sulked, dropping back down into his seat.
"Oh come on... fine, we'll both be Kingsh then," Edward grunted again, then paused to think for a moment, "...Kingsh of where?"
And thus began the madness.
The next day, Edmund woke with a groan, clutching at his sore head. He sat up in his bunk and swung his feet around to the floor, then hauled himself up with a belch. He swayed and cursed whatever ale they'd drunk last night, so potent that even now it seemed that the floor was rocking and rolling like a... like a... like a boat!
Staggering out of the cabin with a sick feeling in his stomach, he stared in horror at the sea surrounding him, and the coast far to his left. He clutched the rail to keep his balance, and felt his belly roll once more as he looked back to his right and saw another Scottish ship sailing parallel to them, and just like his own, that ship's decks were lined with soldiers!
"King Edmund!" his brother's voice laughed, and he twisted about to see Edward staggering towards him with a drink in one hand - probably more ale - and a sloppy grin on his unshaven face.
"King? Edward, what the hell is going on!?" he squawked in confusion, clutching at his head as a bolt of pain shot through it.
"We're on our way, Edmund!" Edward laughed, apparently no worse the wear for a night's drinking, "Ye came up with the plan last night! We're going to make our own Kingdom, we grabbed our forces from the battle of York, made up some crap about a secret mission to get a couple of boats, and we left Father behind to deal with the nobles and England and arranged marriages and all his own crap... we're going to be Kings!"
"Kings? King's of where!?" spluttered Edmund, aghast.
"I asked the same question last night, and ye said ye knew a place from your books where the Kings have slaves and are treated like Gods, and ye can drink what ye want when ye want, and all the lasses wander about with their kit off" Edward grinned in delight, and then proclaimed eagerly, "...we're going to be the new Kings of Egypt!"
Egypt.
EGYPT.
BLOODY EGYPT!
Edmund, upon realizing what the hell was going on, doubled over the ship's railing and let the contents of his stomach loose.
The single Scottish ship pulled into the port of Alexandria with a shudder, and Edward was the first to storm off with a nervous Edmund in tow. He'd been in a horrific mood ever since they'd lost their second ship to a Rebel boat further back along the coast. Nearly all of the men had been saved, and the rebel boat sunk with arrows of fire, but Edmund was concerned that Edward had settled into one of his infamous bad tempers. As they'd travelled on towards Egypt, Edmund had spent much of the time convincing his Brother of the folly of taking on one of the mightiest nations in the world with less than 2000 men, and seemed to be getting through to him. He had been sure that once they landed, Edward would spend some time whoring through Alexandria, drink himself into a stupor, get into a fight and then travel over to the Italian Peninsular with him and write to Father asking for forgiveness. But ever since the naval battle, Edward hadn't responded to any talk on the matter.
Alexandria was a good sized city, close to the ocean as well as the Nile River, giving a green look to Egypt not familiar to Edmund from his studies. To his great surprise, he saw a familiar face standing on the dock smiling at him. It couldn't be... but it was!
"Hello Edmund, Edward," Patrick greeted them with a warm smile, "On behalf of Sultan Al-Mustansir, King of Egypt, I welcome ye to Alexandria."
"Ye... ye welcome us?" asked Edward, perplexed.
"Aye, I arrived a week ago to sign an agreement between Egypt and Scotland to end the threat of Moorish rebels to the West. I explained all about how King Malcolm was so committed to ending Rebel influence that he was sending 2000 of his best troops, along with his own two sons, to lend aid."
"He... he told the Sultan we were coming...?" Edward hissed after a brief moment of silence, and Edmund felt his heart sink as his brother's face turned black with rage.
"Aye," MacDougall replied uneasily, having obviously not foreseen this reaction.
"He twists everything, he... he..." Edward gasped, straining for breath, "We were going to be Kings... he cannae... he cannae just... he..."
"Now Prince Edward, be reasonab..." MacDougall started, but he was quickly interrupted.
"NOT PRINCE!" Edward roared at last, "KING! KING EDWARD AND KING EDMUND OF EGYPT! TO ARMS! TO ARMS! DEATH TO SULTAN EL MUSTARD!
"Wha..." MacDougall gasped as Edmund felt numbness washing over him, and soldiers on the docks recovered from a moment of shock to react with the precision drilled into them in the military,"Nae, nae! Ye cannae do this! We have a deal with these peop..."
"TAKE YE DEAL AND SHOVE IT UP YE ARSE!" Edward bellowed, startling MacDougall with his vehemence, "FORWARD! TO THE GATES! KILL THE BLOODY EGYPTIANS! KILL THEM!"
Soldiers began marching at the order, ignoring MacDougall's frantic protests even as they buckled on armor, pulled themselves up onto horses and looked across the dusty plain separating the port and Alexandria's gates.
Inside Alexandria itself, Sultan Al-Mustansir stared with wide eyes from his balcony at the force marching towards the city, obviously preparing for battle.
"Seal the gates, man the walls with archers!" He hissed. "Send birds to Tulun of Taba and let him know the Scots have broken their pact! If we can hold the walls, he can have 1000 men here within a week! I'll have the Scottish Princes' heads sent to their Father for this treachery!"
Sultan Al-Mustansir
Age: 50
Governor
Command: 5
Dread: 1
Authority: 2
Piety: 6
Retinue: Spymaster
Traits: Strategically Sound, Talent for Command, Religiously Devout, Faction Leader, Espionage
At the port, McDougall rushed to Edmund's side as the younger son calmly strapped on his armor.
"Ye have to do something, this is madness! Edward will never take the walls and we have nae provisions, reinforcements will come up within a week and wipe us all out!"
Edmund turned a look on MacDougall that chilled his soul, as he saw for the first time that Edmund appeared not only resigned to this course of action, but almost indifferent to its consequences. As if reading his mind, Edmund spoke,"I have worried myself to death on this trip, agonizing over the consequences of a night of drunken boasts spoken in jest gone too far... now there is nothing that can be done about it, all there is, is to make the best of a bad situation."
Stalking over to a wicker cage of birds offloaded from the ship, Edmund coolly reached in and pulled out a dove, then flung it into the air. MacDougall watched perplexed, then heard a massive cheer go up from the Scottish troops. Turning, he saw to his shock the gates of Alexandria standing wide open.
"My studies... and my Father, taught me always to be prepared for any eventuality," Edmund hissed,"I had a spy leave the ship days earlier and make his own way into Alexandria, he has opened the gates."
MacDougall stared with wide eyes as Edmund mounted his horse and joined his waiting bodyguard, then rode with them towards the city as Edward poured his men through the open gates.
"The Sultan has a garrison of less than 200 men," he gasped, "The mad fools are going to kill the King of Egypt and bring ruin upon us all!"
Enemy General Fallen
Sultan Al-Mustansir
Clear Victory
Scotland
Prince Edward
Men Deployed: 1879
Men Lost: 314
Men Remaining: 1565
Enemies Killed: 63 (117)
Egypt
Sultan Al-Mustansir
Men Deployed: 180
Men Lost: 180
Men Remaining: 0
Enemies Killed: 365 (0)
And for now, that is my story. Return to me again, and I shall tell you more of the two Scottish Princes - one bloody-minded and quick to temper, the other intelligent and coldly calculating - who attempted to remake themselves as Kings of Egypt.
Prince Edward
Age: 29
Faction Heir
Command: 2
Dread: 4
Loyalty: 5
Piety: 3
Retinue: Biographer
Traits: Heir Apparent, Admirer of Beauty, Skilled Bureaucrat, Genius, Deep Pockets
Edmund The Chivalrous
Age: 27
Governor
Command: 1
Chivalry: 4
Loyalty: 6
Piety: 3
Retinue: Mentor
Traits: Skilled Bureaucrat, Fair in Rule, Bastion of Chivalry, Feels Appreciated
Now, before you asked, yes, I did earlier attempt to do another story inspired by "A Scotsman In Egypt" a few years ago. I lost interest in that one. This is the one I'm currently writing.