"What has taken you so long!"

4. February 1696

Maciek Kwiatkowski was cold.  Freezing cold.  And he was angry with himself. "Why can't you just hold your tongue."
He was sure thats why he was out here, in the freezing cold and snow. Telling a magnate where he can stick his veto is never a good idea. Not after the Sapieha's vetoed the King. and certainly not after a few drinks... Some said too many, but that's all relative.
Now he was out here in the cold waiting for a guest of his Pułkownik Mierzejewski's... probably just another stuck up Magnate, looking down his nose at him for not being a Noble.  Maybe he could warm up in the village... maybe they even have an inn, with some food, maybe even a small drink...

Kwiatkowski asking for another shot

Kwiatowski was part of Euzebiusz Pawłowski new dragoon regiment, part of Mierzejewski Pulk/division. The colonel was training them in new ways, that Pułkownik Mierzejewski had discovered in Greece on his great tour. Apparently it was from some competitions the ancient greeks used to train their soldiers. It focused on the skills required by a soldier, with competitions in shooting, swimming, fencing, equestrianism, and cross country running.  He even  called his regiment the "Hoplites".

The Hoplites Regimental Flag.
At least they wouldn't have to wear the helmets

Not that he had much choice. Being an impoverished noble, he had to take whatever his benefactor felt suited him.  He spat on the ground. He was sure it froze before it even hit the ground.

Finally he saw some movement in the trees.  He could see the first riders of the magnate riding ahead of the column. He approached them  to identify himself as their guide.

"Pozdrowienia - Greetings your lordships! I have been expecting you hours ago - I am Pan Kwiatowski, porucznik/lieutenant of Pawłowski dragoon banners!  What has taken you you so long!?!"

The long expeted party arrives

The two men rode up to Kwiatowski. Both of them wore expensive furs, but the rider on the lft looked like a hardened veretan of many a campaign. The veteran smiled at him and started to introduce himself, whilst his companion eyed him with a disdainful glower.

"Greetings, an a special thanks for your forthcomingness. My companion and I have ineed been delayed by the snow, dinners, political meeings and some broken axels. I am Pan Krefeldski,  Rotmistrz of his Highness the Crown Prince of Poland Guard Banner. And my companion here, is Pan Jakib Sobieski..."

Kwiatowski blood started to drain from his face

"... you might have heard of him as Crown Prince of Poland, or as the hetman's son, depending on where you stand?"

"... Ah..."

"Oh yes", pressed the Rotmistrz," by the way just out of interest, where do you stand on this issue?"

"Krefeldski! thats enough!"  spat out the Prince. "I apologize for my friend's forwardness. Being a foreigner he sometimes doesn't understand the freedoms we have her in the Rzeczpospolita"
The crown Prince Smiled at Kwiatowski.

"Shall we proceed to Oleska! I am eager to see these 'Hoplitóws' in action! I have heard so much about them!"

Mission to Podolia

Warsaw, January 23, 1696

Wilanow palace, Warsaw

Crown Prince Jakub was outside his fathers quarters, waiting for Doctor O'Connor to leave. His father had been unwell these last years and lately had been receiving intensive treatment from the Irish physician.

The door opened and the physician steppe out. To the anxious questions of the prince he could just give a chagrined smile and said to him, "Your father is waiting for you."

Jakub Sobieski

Jakub entered the king's chambers. The king was in his bed. Far from being the impressive hero figure the king has since his victory in Vienna retired from active campaigning due to health problems.

"Fanfanikiem,  come here." The ruler called his son over to his bedside.  "You know i have been ill for a while now, but things are coming to an end..."

"But father, the doctors have been predicting your iminent death for the last 2 years!!!" cried the Prince

"Shhh, quiet son. I won't leave today, nor tomorrow, but my health is also not improving. In fact it is getting worse" 

"You know we have been trying everything to improve your chances of getting the crown after I am gone, but as things stand, you will still need to get elected for this honor."

"As you know there are factions at court that still clai you have no right to the throne, being the son of a Hetman, not born when I was king."

"There are many pretenders to the throne. Lubomirski and Potoki are already with Hetman Jablonowski.  And they know just as much as we do, how a good military victory can improve ones chances to being elected King" said the King with a gleam in his eye.

" I have just received a report from Podolia, showing that the Emir of Lehistan, Kemik Kiran, is readying his forces for a spring or summer campaign. He is amassing troops from Crimea, Rumelia and the desert Nations. Rumours have it he is even recruiting chinese archers... at least he is bringing chinsese arrows!?!"

Kemik Kirans Horde amassing with Delis, Tartars, Janissarys, Bazi-bazouhs, and the mysterious Chinese Arrows...

"Son, I am asking you to take our troops and those loyal to us down there, assist the Hetman, but make sure that when the crushing blow falls, it is your hand that is guiding the mace! Crush them before they can crush us! And if you can win back Podolia, the crown will be yours for sure.

Go to Oleska. Rotamaster Krefeldski is already training and assembling some banners of Haidjuks and Dragoons, that will come in usefull in the hilly region you will be operating in."

The King gave his son a parting embrace.

"Good Luck!"