'Wanted: A Throne'
A Flintloque Background Article by Alternative Armies*
Before Mordred annulled the power of Wylde Magick he overthrew his mother, the Empress Morgana, and claimed her throne as his. She did not give up and the Elven Civil War began...
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Editor's Note:
'Wanted: A Throne' is split into four parts below with the original notes on how to game the Elven Civil war after each part.
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Wanted: A Throne - Part One
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The Empress Morgana sat on her throne in the state apartment set aside for her in the Palace of her host, The Emperor Klaffenhund, Ruler of Östaria. The room was long and dark with battle flags hanging from the shadowed ceiling high above. By the flickering light of candles set strategically around the walls, she keenly eyed the young Elf Colonel who stood before her. Although his sword and duelling pistol had been taken from him h was still flanked by four large and very mean looking Östarian Grenadier guards. Finally, Morgana broke the silence.
“Colonel Bernadotte, repeat to me the message you spoke of when you were apprehended at the border but beware, any falsehoods or trickery will be known, and my anger will be great.”
The young Colonel bowed low and said respectfully, “Ma’am, there is no treachery or deceit in my heart, my only desire is to serve you and to restore to you that which is rightfully yours - the throne of Armorica. Many of my fellow officers are willing to come to your side and with them they will bring their regiments. We will rise against...” Here he hesitated in embarrassment, but Morgana impatiently gestured for him to continue.
“Rise against your son, the Usurper Mordred.” He blurted out and then stopped and looked with some trepidation to see what effect his words would have on the Empress.
Minutes went by and Morgana sat as stone. The silence broken only by the distant barking of NCOs drilling troops on the parade ground adjacent to the palace.
Morgana finally stirred and leaning forward, spoke. “When my son rose against me, he broke my heart. He betrayed me and yet he remains my son. Still, l alone am the rightful ruler of Armorica. So, l say to you, raise your army, raise my standards and raise me to the Peacock Throne. However, a mere Colonel cannot command in my name.
She raised a warning finger as the young Elf made to speak.
“Hear me - I say again a Colonel cannot command, so henceforth you are General Bernadotte, commander of your Empress’s forces and defender of the realm.”
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End of Part One
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Original Notes on Part One
With the war continuing and no end in sight, some Ferach Officers look to the old ways for their leadership and inevitably to Morgana. This setting could lead to an exciting Civil war amongst the Ferach forces that would enable Players with Elf armies to fight each other.
Obviously the Ferach loyal to Morgana would not be able to use some of Mordred’s own troops such as the Corps Imperial for example, but the scope is vast.
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Wanted: A Throne - Part Two
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The Empress Morgana fled to Östaria after her son, the Usurper Mordred, made an alliance with the Dwarves of the Finklestein Confederation. Granted asylum by the Dog Emperor, Kläffenhund, Morgana resides in a faded splendour surrounded by a few loyal expatriates and dreaming of a triumphant return to power. That dream has now been fuelled by her secret meeting with the loyal Elf Colonel Bernadotte. Never fully accepting Mordred’s rule but believing his duty compelled him to fight against his country’s enemies, he has seen action in Afrique, Catalucia and The Witchlands. It was this last disastrous campaign that firmed his desire to oust Mordred and restore Morgana to the Peacock Throne. Accepting Bernadotte’s offer, to raise an army from among Mordred’s disenchanted forces, Morgana gives him her blessing and promotes him to General.
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As the massive oaken doors to Morgana’s stateroom slammed shut behind him, Colonel, no! Not Colonel any longer but General, Bernadotte took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and attempted to calm his raging emotions. As he came under control, he allowed himself a small nervous laugh. He had risked much, no he corrected himself, he had risked everything; his career, his freedom, his very life, but it had all been worth it, well worth it. Promoted beyond his wildest dream he would, the Gods willing, lead an army of like-minded followers that could take on the elite forces of the Usurper Mordred. Take them on and crush them!
He spoke, and a keen ear would have detected the hint of suppressed excitement. "Come, Nicholas, my cloak if you please, for the night air will be chill. The troop is ready to ride?"
Lieutenant Nicholas Gautier stepped forward and handed his superior the heavy wool greatcoat and cockaded bicorne. He answered deferentially, but with a slight question in his tone.
“The men have only to mount sir, and the horses have been but lightly fed and watered. It would seem that we have an urgent ride before us?”
Bernadotte had been pulling on his large white gauntlets whilst his aide had been speaking. He paused and looked searchingly into his younger companion’s face. Obviously satisfied with what he saw there, he placed his hands on the other’s shoulders.
“Nicholas” he said earnestly, “Tonight we must cross the border unseen and in haste. I bear a message and a commission that must reach the ears of many of our fellow officers, especially those comrades who, like ourselves, have become disenchanted following the reckless and ill-led invasion of the accursed Witchlands.”
Here he paused and gripped the Lieutenant’s shoulders even more tightly, causing the younger Elf to suppress an exclamation of pain.
“We have been part of history, Nicholas, but after tonight, yes, after tonight we will make history!”
He stood a moment longer, his pale cheeks flushed, and a distant look in his eyes, seeing not the figure that stood before him but the glorious future that his mind’s eye was envisaging. Then the moment passed. Dropping his arms he turned abruptly away shouting over his shoulder, “Come good Nicholas, to horse!”
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As the door to the courtyard swung shut behind them, candles in sconces set high on the walls flickered wildly but then burned steadily once more. Inexplicably, a tapestry continued to move. The explanation was soon forthcoming, however, as one corner of the drape was pulled aside and two figures stepped from the concealed alcove which lay behind it.
One was an Östarian Captain of the Guard, and the other was an Elf who, although dressed in civilian clothing, had a military air about him.
“You see D’Kless!”, said the Dog Officer. “It is how I said. Your fellow countryman is clearly involved in something illicit, and my nose tells me that it bodes ill for your Emperor.”
The Elf looked austerely through his gold-rimmed spectacles at the Dog. Speaking in a dry precise tone he said, “My dear Captain Guldan, with all due respect to the prophetic powers of your nasal appendage, I am in no doubt that the smallest puppy of one of your undoubtedly numerous litters would speedily reach the same conclusion. Why else meet with the Empress under such a cloak of secrecy?
‘‘Non, non, non," he said impatiently, as the Östarian made to speak. “I am happy that you have brought this plot to my attention, and I am not ungrateful, as you will find out in due course, however, this night’s work has only just begun.”
He smiled, but only his lip gave it homage. His eyes behind the thin circles of glass were like chips of pale blue ice.
"You and I, mon ami, must follow the good Colonel and his entourage with a select group of your most trustworthy Hussars. At all costs, he must not cross the frontier. My intention is to surprise him and take him alive so that he may be questioned at leisure."
D’Kless paused and tapped a reflective finger against the Östarian’s burly chest.
“Should that prove impossible,” he continued, “then a more permanent solution will have to be, ah, implemented. Do I make my meaning clear? As an Elf of intellect, I abhor violence, but this affair must be brought to a speedy resolution. I repeat, do I make myself clear?"
The Dog Captain’s canines gleamed in the gloom as he grinned in acknowledgement. He drew one hairy paw across his throat, in the time-honoured gesture, signifying death, and growled. “Oh yes. Herr D’Kless, l fully understand.”
With nothing more to be said, the two conspirators turned and went silently out into the night.
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End of Part Two
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Original Notes on Part Two
Suggested Miniatures
The Hussar figure from Deadloque boxed set (5002) could make a suitable Nicholas Gautier. Boris Guldan might come from the Dog Command Set (56510). Michel D’Kless can be found in the Sharke’s Victory supplement box (5004). Lucien Bemadotte can be portrayed by the Elf figure from the Czarlingrad character pack (59001).
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Wanted: A Throne - Part Three
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The Empress Morgana fled to Östaria and was granted asylum by the Dog Emperor, Kläffenhund. She resides in faded splendour surrounded by a few loyal expatriates and dreaming of a triumphant return to power. Colonel Bernadotte wishes to restore Morgana to the Peacock Throne. Accepting Bernadotte ‘s offer, Morgana gives him her blessing and promotes him to General. Leaving Morgana ‘s staterooms, after their secret meeting, Bernadotte finds his loyal aide Nicholas Gautier waiting for him. Unable at this time to fully confide in the younger officer, Bernadotte feels it is safe enough however to stress that they must secretly cross the border that very night. No longer had the outer door closed behind them though when two figures appeared from a concealed alcove. They were a Dog Captain and Mordred’s arch spy D’Kless. After discussing what they had overheard the two conspirators left on their mission - to capture or kill Bernadotte.
~
The small group of horsemen had ridden urgently beneath scudding moonlit clouds and were now within a quarter of a mile of their objective, the small hamlet of Sammlesberg, which housed the frontier post that they were determined to cross that night.
Their hopes that this would prove incident free had been dashed after one of their number had scouted ahead and returned with the worrying news that the frontier guards had been reinforced by a sizeable contingent of Dog Hussars under the apparent command of an Elf civilian!
Lucien Bernadotte, still thought of as Colonel by his men, wheeled his mount and cantered over to join them. For a while nobody spoke, the silence broken only by the occasional clink of scabbard or bridle and the gentle whinnying of the horses.
Finally, Bernadotte spoke. “Comrades”, he began, his breath and that of his steed mingling in the chill night air. “You have followed me tonight without explanation, and in truth I cannot yet give you satisfactory answers to your undoubtedly many unspoken questions.
He paused to study their intent faces and then continued.
“I can only reiterate what was said at the start of our journey: that it is imperative that I cross the border tonight. However, it would seem certain that steps have been taken to prevent me from doing so.”
After a moment’s silence he continued. “Over yonder rise lies the hamlet of Sammlesberg and the border crossing, we have only to break through and we are safe, but it is one thing to try it is quite another to succeed.”
Another pause, longer this time. It was obvious that Bernadotte was reluctant to continue, but he had to speak no matter how distasteful he found the words that he had to utter.
“In all my career in the military I have never run from the enemy, nor have I ever shunned a fight. However, so important is my mission, dear comrades, that if, at this eleventh hour, the enemy come close to stopping us, then flee I must and sacrifice you all in a delaying rearguard action!"
The intense shame he felt at this utterance caused him to bow his head that he might not have to face the accusing glances that he was sure awaited his words.
A long silence occurred whilst he sat with downcast head miserable with shame. Then a light tap on his left shoulder broke his reverie. He looked up into the smiling face of his aide, Nicholas Gautier, who did not speak but gestured towards the others.
The troopers were lined up as if on parade, ramrod-straight in the saddle, each with his sabre unsheathed in salute. Bernadotte’s eyes shone with unshod tears at this spontaneous display of trust and loyalty.
Sergeant Henri ‘Papa’ Duchene cleared his throat and said: “Permission to speak freely Mon Colonel?”.
Not trusting himself to speak Bernadotte merely nodded in acceptance. The grizzled veteran spoke in a broad peasant accent, but every word was heavy with sincerity.
“Mon Colonel, I have followed you through the burning sands of Afrique, throughout the length of Catalucia and the hellish frozen wastes of the Witchlands and you have always been as honourable and brave a leader as any Elf could want. If you say that this is the way it has to be, that’s good enough for me and I believe that the rest of the troop agree. Am I right mes amis?”
There was a chorus of assent, underlined by the nodding of the horses’ heads, as if they too understood and concurred.
"Mon fils, yes I call you all my sons, for you are as dear to me as my own blood. With Shivalias’ help we will, I trust, all come through this perilous undertaking safely."
Having made this pronouncement, he unsheathed his own sword, waved it above his head and cried: “Forward!”
The whole troop urged their mounts to a gallop and thundered down the road into the village and towards whatever fate lay in wait for them.
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End of Part Three
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Original Notes on Part Three
Gaming Suggestions
To play a Flintloque game you could use a troop of ten L’Esprite du Garde as Bernadotte’s troopers and two mounted officers representing Bernadotte and Gautier (the Marshal Sault LE would make an excellent Bernadotte).
The enemy could consist of eight Dog Hussars (one of them representing Guldan) and twelve Dog Line commanded by D’Kless.
The Elf player must get Bernadotte past the opposing forces to win.
D’Kless must try to capture Bernadotte and only kill him as a last resort. Bernadotte, D’Kless and Guldan are all experienced. Gautier is average and all the rest are raw.
The Dog Line are treated as Militia.
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Wanted: A Throne - Part Four - ‘Breakout or Die!’
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Long, long after the event, long after Mashall Bernadotte had himself breathed his last, stories were still circulated round winter firesides and in tavern bars concerning his miraculous escape from Östaria. Embellished at every telling the legend has him scythe though his enemies astride a great white horse, a sword in each hand and an Empress seated behind him. None could touch him for his appearance constantly changed and confounded his enemies. They say the last sight of his was his silhouette against the backdrop of a gibbous moon as he sailed to safety. A great legend and although not accurate seeds of truth are contained within and that truth though much more prosaic yet remains a marvellous tale in itself.
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Yelling their regimental battle cry, the Hussars of Bernadotte’s troop thundered down the small main street of Sammlesberg toward the strongly defended border post that lay at its far end. Waiting for them were the much larger group of defenders commanded by the Elf spy D’Kless and his second in command the Dog Captain Boris Guldan. D’Kless and Guldan stood in the middle of the street watching the approaching Hussars.
Behind them a platoon of Dog Militia, the border guard, waited with rifles ready for the order to fire. They were a motley bunch of old Dogs; youngsters barely pups and a sprinkling of disabled veterans. Their Commandant, who himself worse an empty sleeve pinned to his tunic, having lost a limb in battle, finished giving his men a quick word of encouragement and limped over to D’Kless and Guldan.
“West gate platoon ready sir! He barked saluting stiffly with his left arm. “Give the word and my lads will blast them from the saddle” Chest puffed up and with jutting jowls he had addressed Guldan, but his eyes kept flickering sideways to where D’Kless stood apparently unmoved by the sight and sound of the fast-approaching horsemen.
Clearly the Elf puzzled the Dog Lieutenant. What was an Elf, and a civilian at that, doing here in the first place and why was a Dog Captain of Hussars taking orders from him anyway? This might be the border but by the Gods this was still the Östarian side of it! When D’Kless showed no sign of responding Guldan cleared his throat and addressed him.
“Monsieur, if we are to stop them should the men not be given the order to fire?” D’Kless still not deigning to reply Guldan tried again, “Colonel are the men not to fire?”
Without averting his gaze from the enemy D’Kless gripped Guldan’s shoulder in a steely grip and flung out his right arm in their direction. Without raising his voice but in icy tones of contempt he said.
“Shall the men fire, shall the men fire indeed my good Guldie. And with what result? That they kill the one Elf that I need alive?! In mocking tones he continued, “Rely on your fighting skills my dear Guldie, but leave the thinking to those that have brain cells that reach double figures. But do not fret I have already made plans, and they are about to reach fruition”
Reaching into a pocket of his voluminous frock coat he produced a pistol cocked it and raised it above his head.
“This shall be the shot that decides Bernadotte’s fate” he declared and fires. The sharp crack of the hand weapon set in motion the plan that D’Kless had contrived earlier and, typically, not thought necessary to communicate to his henchman. Several things happened at once.
A Troop of Dog Hussars that had been hidden in the dark alleyways that branched off the main street charged into Bernadotte’s troop and attempted to surround the leader who was easily recognisable by his Colonel’s uniform. At the same time a thick cable which lay across the path of the horsemen but hidden from sight by a layer of soil was raised across the road. Most of Bernadotte’s horsemen, unable to stop in time, were dislodged from their falling mounts and became easy prey to the Dog Militia who were now urged to charge in with fixed bayonets.
One solitary rider did not succumb to this mayhem, but his superb riding skills were obviously not accompanied by courage for he turned his mount into the nearest alley, dismounted and disappeared into its darkest reaches.
Meanwhile the brief battle was over and everywhere lay the dead and dying and the Dog Hussars were standing victorious over the Elf Colonel who lay dirty and beaten at their feet! Guldan said, “Magnificent Herr Colonel, a masterful plan, and now we have Bernadotte”. He gestured towards the surviving Elves. “What shall we do with these other scum?”
Barely glancing as he strode past, D’Kless said: “Dispose of them Guldan. We have no need of them. We have the only prize that we require. But first let us pay our respects to the good Colonel.”
The two walked over to where the two burly Dog Hussars supported the prisoner by his arms as he slumped between them, head lowered in an attitude of defeat.
“My dear Colonel” said D’Kless. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Michel D’Kless, agent for his Imperial Majesty and this is my good friend Captain Guldan.” With mock sincerity he continued, “How sad that we should meet under such unpleasant circumstances. However, we shall have plenty of time to improve our relationship.”
The semi-recumbent figure made no sign that he had heard these words.
“Ah”, continued D’ Kless “ls it that the brave Colonel does not wish to face me, is he ashamed of his total defeat. His poor leadership? ls he afraid of what is to follow?”
These words seemed finally to reach the prisoner for to the astonishment of those that surrounded him he began to shake violently.
“By the Gods Guldan” exclaimed D’Kless. “The gallant Elf Colonel is a coward! See he shakes with veritable terror.”
The prisoner shook himself free of those that held him, raised his head to look D’Kless fully in the face and finally spoke. “On the contrary Monsieur D’Kless. The Elf Colonel is the bravest Elf I know and as you can see, I am not he. I do not shake with fear but with laughter. All your machinations were for nought. Your quarry has escaped you.”
And indeed, it was not Bernadotte who faced them but Nicholas Gautier! The young Elf continued. “We changed uniforms D’Kless. Not just Bernadotte and I but with a trooper as well. You do not have him D’Kless, he is long gone!”
Mordred’s top agent rarely showed his emotions but this sudden denouement, this revelation that all his plans had come to nothing broke through his iron control. With a muttered curse he stepped forward and struck Gautier, once, twice, three times across the face, splitting the young Elf’s lip. Gautier gazed at him defiantly, the marks of the blow imprinted on his cheeks and a thin red streak of blood flowing from his cut lip.
Guldan, ever eager to ape his superior made to strike the young officer also but D’Kless, once more in control of himself, placed a firm hand on the Dog’s chest and bade him desist.
“No more my dear Guldie, although your bravery does you credit. We need him able to ride. Bernadotte may yet be tracked, and this one might prove a handy bargaining point. With Gautier as the bait Bernadotte may yet walk into my parlour in an attempt to free him.”
~
Much later in the last hour before dawn, a weary mud bespattered figure broke through a thicket of thorn, took two more faltering steps and collapsed unconscious onto the hard baked soil. Bernadotte, for it was indeed he, did not know that he had left Östarian soil some four leagues back. Confused and wracked with guilt over his enforced flight he had become thoroughly lost and had travelled far from his intended crossing point. As he now lay insensible, he did not yet know that instead of reaching safety he had in fact jumped from the cooking pot into the inferno!
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Author’s Notes on Part Four
To play a Flintloque game you could use a troop of ten L’Esprit du Garde as Bernadotte’s troopers and two mounted officers representing Bernadotte and Gautier (the Marshal Sault LE would make an excellent Bernadotte). The enemy could consist of eight Dog Hussars (one of them representing Guldan) and twelve Dog Line commanded by D’Kless.
Bernadotte’s aim is to get past the opposing forces to safety. D’Kless must try to capture Bernadotte and only kill him as a last resort. Since Bernadotte is assumed to be in disguise both players might agree that if an Elf Hussar crosses the border, then that figure is deemed to be Bernadotte. Conversely the Elf figures could be secretly numbered, and the opponent is informed if the Bernadotte figure has to be removed from play. Bernadotte, D’Kless and Guldan are all experienced. Gaultier is average and all the rest are raw. The Dog Line are treated as Militia.
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Webmaster's Notes
'Wanted: A Throne' was originally published in four parts in Alternative Armies in-house newsletter, Loque & Load. Part One (Loque & Load Volume 1, Issue 1 – November 1999), Part Two (Loque & Load Volume 1, Issue 2 - February 2000), Part Three (Loque & Load Volume 1, Issue 3 - April 2000), Part Four (Loque & Load Volume 1, Issue 4 - Undated).
The scenario was first published on Orcs in the Webbe on the 2nd December 2025 as the second entry in that year's Advent Calendar and, of course, is part of Orcs in the Webbe's ongoing Flintloque Archive Project.
The specific author is uncredited in the Loque & Load issues but Andrew Becker, Ross Lloyd, Louise Scott, Dave Toone, Elton Waters, Bob Carter, Gary Morgan and Alternative Armies were credited as contributors to the issues this is taken from.
Any comments in maroon in the article above have been added by me either to provide additional information or clarity. I may also have made small changes to grammar and layout but have not marked these.