Pelasgia
Established Nation
Propontis, Optimatoi Theme
Polemarch Aristarchos Kavalaris had a rather particular habit which made him stand out as a Lycaonian: it consisted of playing with the small kombolóï which he kept on his person most of the time. The object in question, sometimes translating as worry beads, consisted of several beads tied together with a rope or string. This particular kombolóï was made of amber beads, a fine leather string and assorted bronze metal pieces for ornamentation, putting the wealth of its holder on display for all to see. In Lycaonia such objects were owned by most, if not all, adult men, being used to fidget and pass time. Their styles and materials changed with the status of their owner. In Propontis, by contrast, and most of Old Pelasgia, the kombológia had been brought over by the lower class Lycaonians who had come in search of work, and were largely limited to slightly older men of the lower and, partially, middle class. It was, therefore, quite extraordinary to see an officer and a gentleman playing with one, let alone the Polemarch, one of the Empire's Three Great Archons of State.
For his part, Kavalaris cared very little for such formalities; he had been raised as a Lycaonian noble, and he fidgeted with his kombolóï at leisure. In this particular instance, he was trying to kill time in the operations room of the Pelasgian General Staff, flanked by subordinates of various degrees, all of them bearing the insignia of the Supreme Military Command of the Interior and the Archipelago (ASDEA) and the First Army. With countless lesser officers moving around, Kavalaris sat silently with a handful of generals and other upper officers, all of them dressed in olive green Pelasgian uniforms, their tunics covering their necks, their kepis resting calmly on the table before them. A few moments later, a junior officer came to the table with an important piece of information: "Colonel Nikolaidis is reporting that the MAK units are approaching the target as ordered. Colonel Petropoulos says that the first and second armoured battalions are awaiting orders to move forward." The Marshal continued fidgeting as one of the Generals responded: "Tell Petropoulos to wait for our order. The MAK must capture the target first, or this will all be for nothing." The officer saluted and left the upper officers to their deliberations.
"All is going as planned," said the Marshal, content. He turned to the large screen in front of the central table where him and the other commanding officers were sitting in the operations room. There he could see the feed from each and every soldier of the MAK unit currently advancing towards its crucial objective. The objective in question was no other than the Imperial Palace itself; Kavalaris was engaged in the very same tradition that many a leading Pelasgian officer had taken part before him: a coup d'état. In this particular case, Kavalaris's own deep-seated malice for the Crown and the Laskaris Dynasty certainly made things easier from an ethical standpoint. "The MAK have entered the perimeter," said the officer as Kavalaris and the other officers witnessed the special forces soldiers crossing the outer fencing of the Imperial Palace, entering the expansive gardens that surrounded the Palace complex. Approaching from three different directions, the three sub-detachments of the MAK unit silently made their way through foliage, closing in on the ornate building, which was for now beyond their immediate field of vision.
Suddenly, the feed of one of the soldiers approaching the palace from the south, belonging to the 3rd sub-detachment, noticed an unexpected flash of light moving in the gardens. He stopped, motioning the other soldiers, all of whom wore night-vision gear, to do the same. Within a split second, a ripple of machine-gun fire ripped through that part of the gardens; the soldier in question collapsed immediately, and so did two others in his detachment. More and more ripples of fire could be seen and heard, hitting the unsuspecting MAK commandos from all directions. The MAK commandos had only expected a rudimentary guard at the palace, consisting of over-glorified honour guards and a few YKAK security personnel. That was clearly not the case. As the last of man of the 3rd sub-detachment fell down, having been hit by small arms fire, the feeds of soldiers in the 2nd sub-detachment begun taking fire. The 1st sub-detachment soon followed. The 1st sub-detachment was wiped out almost immediately, having progressed deep into the gardens-it had walked straight at the centre of an ambush.
The 2nd sub-detachment pushed on, having almost reached the palace, emerging from the gardens at an expansive courtyard which was used as a mastering area for the honour guards. Instead of an empty paved area, however, the MAK men found several detachments of Pelasgian army soldiers, armed to the teeth and well-positioned behind trucks and sandbag barriers, with machine-guns and other small arms. The trucks of the soldiers clearly bore the markings ΠΔΞ and Α' ΣΣ (Ν), standing for Pelasgian Ground Forces and I Army Corps (New) in large white letters on the side of their olive green surface. The MAK men stopped, realising that they had been chased into a firing gallery and were stuck between a hammer (the forces chasing after them in the gardens) and an anvil (the fortified position). An officer emerged from the ranks of the fortified men, holding a megaphone.
"Men of the II MAK, your officers have misled you. You are surrounded on all sides and have no hope. Surrender and save your lives. To surrender when fighting for an unjust cause is no shame; to continue fighting is treason against the Emperor."
After pausing for a moment, the commander of the MAK troops walked forward and shouted back at him: "And who are you?"
"Lieutenant Tzivaeris of the 8th Infantry Battalion, 1st Army Corps," replied the man with the megaphone.
"Well, I fuck both you and your Emperor," responded the MAK commander, a defiant and hardline Nationalist to the end, just like any Bluecoat veteran of the National Schism. Raising his rifle, he shot in the direction of the man with the megaphone, injuring him badly in the right shoulder, and shooting a soldier who was standing next to him in the head. Almost immediately, a hay of fire engulfed the MAK unit; less than a quarter of an hour later, the entire unit had been wiped out by the Loyalist soldiers.
Kavalaris could not believe his eyes. How could they have known?! he couldn't help but wonder. "We must send in the armour," said one of the Generals next to him. "What good will the armour do if we don't have control of the Palace? They'll send in aerial forces and blow us up by the time we manage to force our way to the the Quarter of the Angels," responded another. Kavalaris slammed his first of the table in anger; "Where the hell is Vatatzopoulos?!" he asked, referring to the commander of the 1st Army Corps. His question was soon answer; General Vatatzopoulos walked into the room, flanked by a group of Armed Forces Police (AED) officers and several of his staff officers. They were all dressed in the new, Cussian-style uniforms of the New 1st Army Corps: olive green but with peaked caps, ties instead of tunics that buttoned to the neck, and simplified rank insignia on the shoulders.
"I must ask Your Excellency to follow me," the General said to the Polemarch, as the armed AED officers filled the room. The junior officers filling the room stopped and stared, waiting for the Polemarch to respond.
"What is the meaning of this, Vatatzopoulos? Do you want me to hang you or have you shot?" the Polemarch responded angrily, starting towards the General.
"Your Excellency is perfectly aware of the reason for this most unpleasant meeting. An attempt on His Imperial Majesty's life is High Treason. An attempt to capture the Imperial Palace is High Treason. Treason must be put down, even if its requires such unpleasantries as the entry of armed troops into the General Staff building."
"Arrest this fool and call Petropoulos and Nikolaidis," Kavalaris said. Nobody moved; he stared around him and noticed the insignia on the the officers that filled the room: ASDEN and the 1st Army Corps. ASDEN was largely composed of career officers without political leanings, who acted as executive and logistical support for whomever controlled the military. The 1st Army Corps on the other hand... he remembered that the New 1st Army Corps had been sworn in recently, and that they were commanded by staunch Nationalists. But whose brand of Nationalists? Notaras's or Eratosthenous's? Evidently it was the latter. Kavalaris threw down his kombolóï and put his hand on his sidearm.
"Your disloyal dogs," he said, "You son of a Thracesian whore, Vatatzopoulos. How much did Eratosthenous pay you? How much did that bastard Laskaris pay you? Is he going to make you a Lord?"
"Insulting His Imperial Majesty is High Treason!" shouted a Brigadier to the right of Vatatzopoulos.
"Go fuck yourself," Kavalaris said and pulled out his sidearm; before he could raise it completely, a shot flew right through his back and he collapsed to the ground. Turning his head he saw one of the Armed Forces Police officers who had been guarding the operations room, his Type 33 rifle's barrel steaming. Kavalaris focused on the sergeant insignia on the man's arms: the field where the golden chevrons were located dark red, not olive drab, meaning his was a professional soldier, not a conscript. New First Army Corps..., he thought, I should have expected it. Collapsing on the ground in a pool of his own blood, Kavalaris let out his last breath. The AED men entered the room at a quick pace and arrested the conspirators left and right. The Coup of February 3 was not to be. It would merely be the February 3rd Incident. Less than a year before Kavalaris was assured of his victory over the Laskarids and his vengeance for his father's death: the Propontine Empire had been torn down in a civil war he won, the Loyalist Marshal who previously held his place had blown his own brains out, and the Laskarid Emperor had been assassinated and replaced by a powerless son. And yet, now, he had been defeated and killed at what would have been the height of his power. How fleeting fortune was after all...
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ano Rematia, Hagios Demetrios Province, Optimatoi Theme
Located a couple of kilometers outside the city of Hagios Demetrios, among the quaint forests and fertile land of the Hagios Demetrios Province, Ano Rematia was an unassuming town that subsided mostly on small-time trade and agriculture. In recent years, the fair forests and quiet scenery of the locale, coupled with some archaeological ruins from antiquity, had earned the riverside settlement some touristic importance. However, for the most part, Ano Rematia remained insulated from the rest of the world, its closest connection to other settlements being a train stop which linked it to the nearby city of Hagios Demetrios and a few other settlements further down the line.
It was because of this tranquility that Sakellarios Themistoklis Notaras, the Lord of Hagios Demetrios and the surrounding territories, had elected to build his country house there so many years ago. The cottage was far from a poor home, but it was not a magnificent palace either; somewhere in between the two, it was a traditional home of a Pelasgian noble built in the Propontine style, with a large internal courtyard, lush gardens, and consisting mostly of stone, marble and a tile roof. Since the foundation of ODAD, Notaras had left the Imperial capital and retired to his cottage, trying to work out a solution and regain control over the Empire's executive. The capital was far too dangerous for him and, more importantly, his family, now that everyone could sense his power coming to an end; he had far too many enemies there. In Hagios Demetrios, by comparison, he was virtually unassailable, even after the nobles had lost real power over their feudal domains, at least in Old Pelasgia. By tradition alone, he was given great deference, and his fortune, including great amounts of fertile agricultural land, worked by landless peasants or freeholders with a small lot which did not suffice for their needs, was certainly impressive.
On this specific day, Notaras was preparing to leave his home and head out to the nearby river with his youngest son, Aristotelis, to go fishing. Aristotelis would soon become an adult and leave the locale to go to university, so Notaras was trying to get as much quality time with him as possible. Of course, he would find out about whether Kavalaris's coup succeeded by the end of the day, at which point he would return to the capital to take control of the 'provisional' government. Success was almost certainly assured, and since Kavalaris would need at least until the middle of Sunday to completely consolidate control over the capital, there was no rush. Besides, there was not much governing to be done until Monday. As Notaras closed the trunk of the car, he was alerted by his son to the movement of a group of vehicles on the road which led to the house. From this distance, it could be clearly told that they were army vehicles, painted olive green and all of the same model. Kavalaris paused; had they won or lost? He directed his son to go back inside and waited for the jeeps to arrive.
Soon enough, the jeeps reached the residence and parked outside. No less than a couple dozen armed officers of the Armed Forces Police, dressed in full combat gear, emerged, led by a Second Lieutenant and a man in a dark grey YKAK uniform.
"How fares Emperor Isaakios?" asked the Lord Chancellor, still unsure of whether this was an escort or an arrest party.
"He lives and he reigns. And all who betray him do neither," responded the Second Lieutenant, drawing his sidearm.
Notaras placed a hand on the hood of his car to support himself. Kavalaris had failed. But how? The First Army was entirely under his control... but what about the New First Army? Could Eratosthenous have converted Vatatzopoulos to his cause? No, Eratosthenous was just a follower, he always had been. Vatatzopoulos might have been the one pulling the strings after all. Or perhaps someone above both of them.
"Can you give me a moment to say goodbye to my family?" asked Notaras.
Almost immediately, he heard his son's voice behind him. "What is the meaning of this? You're pointing your guns at the Lord Chancellor of the Empire!" His son had sneaked back out.
"You should just shoot the little bastard and nip the problem in the bud," pointed out the grey-clad YKAK officer. "Treason is a hereditary disease," he added, referring to Polemarch Kavalaris.
"I'm sorry, my Lord, but that's impossible. I have orders," the Second Lieutenant said.
Notaras sighed deeply. He opened his shirt and took out the golden cross he always wore, handing it to his son. "This is for you," he said. Then he took off his wedding ring and gave that to him too. "This is for your mother. I love you both. I love all of you."
The soldiers moved closer and took Notaras away, cuffing his hands like a common criminal. Then they put a black hood over his head. His chancellorship was no more. Soon enough, his life would follow.
Polemarch Aristarchos Kavalaris had a rather particular habit which made him stand out as a Lycaonian: it consisted of playing with the small kombolóï which he kept on his person most of the time. The object in question, sometimes translating as worry beads, consisted of several beads tied together with a rope or string. This particular kombolóï was made of amber beads, a fine leather string and assorted bronze metal pieces for ornamentation, putting the wealth of its holder on display for all to see. In Lycaonia such objects were owned by most, if not all, adult men, being used to fidget and pass time. Their styles and materials changed with the status of their owner. In Propontis, by contrast, and most of Old Pelasgia, the kombológia had been brought over by the lower class Lycaonians who had come in search of work, and were largely limited to slightly older men of the lower and, partially, middle class. It was, therefore, quite extraordinary to see an officer and a gentleman playing with one, let alone the Polemarch, one of the Empire's Three Great Archons of State.
For his part, Kavalaris cared very little for such formalities; he had been raised as a Lycaonian noble, and he fidgeted with his kombolóï at leisure. In this particular instance, he was trying to kill time in the operations room of the Pelasgian General Staff, flanked by subordinates of various degrees, all of them bearing the insignia of the Supreme Military Command of the Interior and the Archipelago (ASDEA) and the First Army. With countless lesser officers moving around, Kavalaris sat silently with a handful of generals and other upper officers, all of them dressed in olive green Pelasgian uniforms, their tunics covering their necks, their kepis resting calmly on the table before them. A few moments later, a junior officer came to the table with an important piece of information: "Colonel Nikolaidis is reporting that the MAK units are approaching the target as ordered. Colonel Petropoulos says that the first and second armoured battalions are awaiting orders to move forward." The Marshal continued fidgeting as one of the Generals responded: "Tell Petropoulos to wait for our order. The MAK must capture the target first, or this will all be for nothing." The officer saluted and left the upper officers to their deliberations.
"All is going as planned," said the Marshal, content. He turned to the large screen in front of the central table where him and the other commanding officers were sitting in the operations room. There he could see the feed from each and every soldier of the MAK unit currently advancing towards its crucial objective. The objective in question was no other than the Imperial Palace itself; Kavalaris was engaged in the very same tradition that many a leading Pelasgian officer had taken part before him: a coup d'état. In this particular case, Kavalaris's own deep-seated malice for the Crown and the Laskaris Dynasty certainly made things easier from an ethical standpoint. "The MAK have entered the perimeter," said the officer as Kavalaris and the other officers witnessed the special forces soldiers crossing the outer fencing of the Imperial Palace, entering the expansive gardens that surrounded the Palace complex. Approaching from three different directions, the three sub-detachments of the MAK unit silently made their way through foliage, closing in on the ornate building, which was for now beyond their immediate field of vision.
Suddenly, the feed of one of the soldiers approaching the palace from the south, belonging to the 3rd sub-detachment, noticed an unexpected flash of light moving in the gardens. He stopped, motioning the other soldiers, all of whom wore night-vision gear, to do the same. Within a split second, a ripple of machine-gun fire ripped through that part of the gardens; the soldier in question collapsed immediately, and so did two others in his detachment. More and more ripples of fire could be seen and heard, hitting the unsuspecting MAK commandos from all directions. The MAK commandos had only expected a rudimentary guard at the palace, consisting of over-glorified honour guards and a few YKAK security personnel. That was clearly not the case. As the last of man of the 3rd sub-detachment fell down, having been hit by small arms fire, the feeds of soldiers in the 2nd sub-detachment begun taking fire. The 1st sub-detachment soon followed. The 1st sub-detachment was wiped out almost immediately, having progressed deep into the gardens-it had walked straight at the centre of an ambush.
The 2nd sub-detachment pushed on, having almost reached the palace, emerging from the gardens at an expansive courtyard which was used as a mastering area for the honour guards. Instead of an empty paved area, however, the MAK men found several detachments of Pelasgian army soldiers, armed to the teeth and well-positioned behind trucks and sandbag barriers, with machine-guns and other small arms. The trucks of the soldiers clearly bore the markings ΠΔΞ and Α' ΣΣ (Ν), standing for Pelasgian Ground Forces and I Army Corps (New) in large white letters on the side of their olive green surface. The MAK men stopped, realising that they had been chased into a firing gallery and were stuck between a hammer (the forces chasing after them in the gardens) and an anvil (the fortified position). An officer emerged from the ranks of the fortified men, holding a megaphone.
"Men of the II MAK, your officers have misled you. You are surrounded on all sides and have no hope. Surrender and save your lives. To surrender when fighting for an unjust cause is no shame; to continue fighting is treason against the Emperor."
After pausing for a moment, the commander of the MAK troops walked forward and shouted back at him: "And who are you?"
"Lieutenant Tzivaeris of the 8th Infantry Battalion, 1st Army Corps," replied the man with the megaphone.
"Well, I fuck both you and your Emperor," responded the MAK commander, a defiant and hardline Nationalist to the end, just like any Bluecoat veteran of the National Schism. Raising his rifle, he shot in the direction of the man with the megaphone, injuring him badly in the right shoulder, and shooting a soldier who was standing next to him in the head. Almost immediately, a hay of fire engulfed the MAK unit; less than a quarter of an hour later, the entire unit had been wiped out by the Loyalist soldiers.
Kavalaris could not believe his eyes. How could they have known?! he couldn't help but wonder. "We must send in the armour," said one of the Generals next to him. "What good will the armour do if we don't have control of the Palace? They'll send in aerial forces and blow us up by the time we manage to force our way to the the Quarter of the Angels," responded another. Kavalaris slammed his first of the table in anger; "Where the hell is Vatatzopoulos?!" he asked, referring to the commander of the 1st Army Corps. His question was soon answer; General Vatatzopoulos walked into the room, flanked by a group of Armed Forces Police (AED) officers and several of his staff officers. They were all dressed in the new, Cussian-style uniforms of the New 1st Army Corps: olive green but with peaked caps, ties instead of tunics that buttoned to the neck, and simplified rank insignia on the shoulders.
"I must ask Your Excellency to follow me," the General said to the Polemarch, as the armed AED officers filled the room. The junior officers filling the room stopped and stared, waiting for the Polemarch to respond.
"What is the meaning of this, Vatatzopoulos? Do you want me to hang you or have you shot?" the Polemarch responded angrily, starting towards the General.
"Your Excellency is perfectly aware of the reason for this most unpleasant meeting. An attempt on His Imperial Majesty's life is High Treason. An attempt to capture the Imperial Palace is High Treason. Treason must be put down, even if its requires such unpleasantries as the entry of armed troops into the General Staff building."
"Arrest this fool and call Petropoulos and Nikolaidis," Kavalaris said. Nobody moved; he stared around him and noticed the insignia on the the officers that filled the room: ASDEN and the 1st Army Corps. ASDEN was largely composed of career officers without political leanings, who acted as executive and logistical support for whomever controlled the military. The 1st Army Corps on the other hand... he remembered that the New 1st Army Corps had been sworn in recently, and that they were commanded by staunch Nationalists. But whose brand of Nationalists? Notaras's or Eratosthenous's? Evidently it was the latter. Kavalaris threw down his kombolóï and put his hand on his sidearm.
"Your disloyal dogs," he said, "You son of a Thracesian whore, Vatatzopoulos. How much did Eratosthenous pay you? How much did that bastard Laskaris pay you? Is he going to make you a Lord?"
"Insulting His Imperial Majesty is High Treason!" shouted a Brigadier to the right of Vatatzopoulos.
"Go fuck yourself," Kavalaris said and pulled out his sidearm; before he could raise it completely, a shot flew right through his back and he collapsed to the ground. Turning his head he saw one of the Armed Forces Police officers who had been guarding the operations room, his Type 33 rifle's barrel steaming. Kavalaris focused on the sergeant insignia on the man's arms: the field where the golden chevrons were located dark red, not olive drab, meaning his was a professional soldier, not a conscript. New First Army Corps..., he thought, I should have expected it. Collapsing on the ground in a pool of his own blood, Kavalaris let out his last breath. The AED men entered the room at a quick pace and arrested the conspirators left and right. The Coup of February 3 was not to be. It would merely be the February 3rd Incident. Less than a year before Kavalaris was assured of his victory over the Laskarids and his vengeance for his father's death: the Propontine Empire had been torn down in a civil war he won, the Loyalist Marshal who previously held his place had blown his own brains out, and the Laskarid Emperor had been assassinated and replaced by a powerless son. And yet, now, he had been defeated and killed at what would have been the height of his power. How fleeting fortune was after all...
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ano Rematia, Hagios Demetrios Province, Optimatoi Theme
Located a couple of kilometers outside the city of Hagios Demetrios, among the quaint forests and fertile land of the Hagios Demetrios Province, Ano Rematia was an unassuming town that subsided mostly on small-time trade and agriculture. In recent years, the fair forests and quiet scenery of the locale, coupled with some archaeological ruins from antiquity, had earned the riverside settlement some touristic importance. However, for the most part, Ano Rematia remained insulated from the rest of the world, its closest connection to other settlements being a train stop which linked it to the nearby city of Hagios Demetrios and a few other settlements further down the line.
It was because of this tranquility that Sakellarios Themistoklis Notaras, the Lord of Hagios Demetrios and the surrounding territories, had elected to build his country house there so many years ago. The cottage was far from a poor home, but it was not a magnificent palace either; somewhere in between the two, it was a traditional home of a Pelasgian noble built in the Propontine style, with a large internal courtyard, lush gardens, and consisting mostly of stone, marble and a tile roof. Since the foundation of ODAD, Notaras had left the Imperial capital and retired to his cottage, trying to work out a solution and regain control over the Empire's executive. The capital was far too dangerous for him and, more importantly, his family, now that everyone could sense his power coming to an end; he had far too many enemies there. In Hagios Demetrios, by comparison, he was virtually unassailable, even after the nobles had lost real power over their feudal domains, at least in Old Pelasgia. By tradition alone, he was given great deference, and his fortune, including great amounts of fertile agricultural land, worked by landless peasants or freeholders with a small lot which did not suffice for their needs, was certainly impressive.
On this specific day, Notaras was preparing to leave his home and head out to the nearby river with his youngest son, Aristotelis, to go fishing. Aristotelis would soon become an adult and leave the locale to go to university, so Notaras was trying to get as much quality time with him as possible. Of course, he would find out about whether Kavalaris's coup succeeded by the end of the day, at which point he would return to the capital to take control of the 'provisional' government. Success was almost certainly assured, and since Kavalaris would need at least until the middle of Sunday to completely consolidate control over the capital, there was no rush. Besides, there was not much governing to be done until Monday. As Notaras closed the trunk of the car, he was alerted by his son to the movement of a group of vehicles on the road which led to the house. From this distance, it could be clearly told that they were army vehicles, painted olive green and all of the same model. Kavalaris paused; had they won or lost? He directed his son to go back inside and waited for the jeeps to arrive.
Soon enough, the jeeps reached the residence and parked outside. No less than a couple dozen armed officers of the Armed Forces Police, dressed in full combat gear, emerged, led by a Second Lieutenant and a man in a dark grey YKAK uniform.
"How fares Emperor Isaakios?" asked the Lord Chancellor, still unsure of whether this was an escort or an arrest party.
"He lives and he reigns. And all who betray him do neither," responded the Second Lieutenant, drawing his sidearm.
Notaras placed a hand on the hood of his car to support himself. Kavalaris had failed. But how? The First Army was entirely under his control... but what about the New First Army? Could Eratosthenous have converted Vatatzopoulos to his cause? No, Eratosthenous was just a follower, he always had been. Vatatzopoulos might have been the one pulling the strings after all. Or perhaps someone above both of them.
"Can you give me a moment to say goodbye to my family?" asked Notaras.
Almost immediately, he heard his son's voice behind him. "What is the meaning of this? You're pointing your guns at the Lord Chancellor of the Empire!" His son had sneaked back out.
"You should just shoot the little bastard and nip the problem in the bud," pointed out the grey-clad YKAK officer. "Treason is a hereditary disease," he added, referring to Polemarch Kavalaris.
"I'm sorry, my Lord, but that's impossible. I have orders," the Second Lieutenant said.
Notaras sighed deeply. He opened his shirt and took out the golden cross he always wore, handing it to his son. "This is for you," he said. Then he took off his wedding ring and gave that to him too. "This is for your mother. I love you both. I love all of you."
The soldiers moved closer and took Notaras away, cuffing his hands like a common criminal. Then they put a black hood over his head. His chancellorship was no more. Soon enough, his life would follow.