Normal Tags: Action, Badass MC, Overpowered, Fiefdom Building, Comedy, Scheming, Anti-Hero, Wealth Gathering
Smut Tags: Breeding, Milfs, Passionate Sex, Rough Sex, Anal, Virginity Lost, Size Difference, Lactation, Breastfeeding, Banging Enemies, Multisomes, and some more.
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What do you do when you're seventeen, obsessed with medieval history, and just inherited your father's twenty-one-billion-dollar fortune?
Unlimited parties? Banging models and actresses? Grand orgies? Travel the world?
Not for Ludwig Hans Kaiser.
Parties seemed like a waste of time, dating beautiful women was just part of daily life, orgies felt intriguing but hollow, and traveling held no appeal since his greatest passion lay right at home.
With his mother's death at childbirth, Ludwig's only family had been his father. It always puzzled him why the man never remarried or had more children. Unfortunately, this meant the burden of his father's legacy rested solely on Ludwig.
As heir to the Kaiser Group, the largest healthcare and pharmaceutical conglomerate in the world, Ludwig's life was mapped out before he could crawl. Study after study, tutor after tutor. He was groomed to take over an empire.
In seventeen years, he'd seen his father fewer times than he could count on both hands. He grew up with nannies, sometimes ugly and old, and at times, questionably beautiful. Yeah, those beautiful ladies took care of him well… a little too well. Ludwig suspected the beautiful ones were hired not for care but to keep him distracted and out of trouble.
While the Kaiser Group made medicines and medical tech, Ludwig had to study business. His rare escapes from their sprawling Germany mansion occurred only when attending college, first in the UK, then in the United States.
And just when he was about to finish college, the old man passed away out of nowhere. Come to think of it, Ludwig realized his father had been nearly 60 when he was born. No wonder there were no other heirs.
It made sense now why Ludwig didn't have any siblings.
"Fuck it," Ludwig muttered, watching his father's casket being lowered in the family graveyard. "Fuck college."
Sure, he was smart. College was easy. He'd been sitting in on board meetings since he was ten. But the company practically ran itself—he didn't need to micromanage anything. His job was to clean the house occasionally and keep the machine running.
"I'm not going back to the States," he declared. "Uncle Oswald, get in touch with the biggest real estate brokers in Europe. I'm going shopping."
"If it's a mansion you want, we have dozens," Oswald said. The man had seen Ludwig grow since childhood and acted as his assistant, bodyguard, and watchman for the old Kaiser.
Ludwig grinned. "No, think bigger. I want a town. Maybe two. Somewhere in Germany, Poland, or Czechia. Land and everything."
"If you don't mind me asking, why?"
"Why not?" Ludwig declared. "I'm going to live my dream."
####
Eight Years Later
It took Ludwig eight years to make that dream real.
He bought 12,172 acres—19 square miles of land across five towns and dozens of villages in Germany. It wasn't easy convincing everyone to sell, but he offered them 100-year leases, renewable if they had children to inherit.
Once he had the land, history's greatest, the world's biggest historical reenactment began. Ludwig was an insane man when it came to the medieval past. For years, he used to secretly read about history, fiction or not, while acting as if studying business.
Movies, shows, live plays, and every festival he could go to. But then he found the holy grail, the real-life Armored MMA. It was a new thing, but the men behind it weren't. To his surprise, a lot of people had been participating in reenactments of battles, using their own period-accurate armors. They learned how to use swords, shields, spears, and bows. He found them through YouTube by luck.
Now, they worked for him. Then, dozens of top historians. Hundreds of craftsmen, blacksmiths, carpenters. All brought together for one purpose: to build a living, breathing medieval world.
In eight years, he had converted his land into his fiefdom. With 3 castles reconstructed from historical blueprints, towns retrofitted with medieval exteriors but modern interiors. Every house, every street in his land. Heck, even a new state-of-the-art hospital was made, but it looked like an ancient fortress from the outside.
But Ludwig had never expected his grand vision would turn into a multi-billion dollar industry in itself. His other billionaire and millionaire friends wanted to join, and he allowed.
Old-school blacksmiths were invited and settled in Ludwig's modern fief. They made complete sets of armor. Swords, and everything they needed. Horses, men-at-arms, and police wore cloaks on their uniforms as they patrolled on their horses.
Before Ludwig knew it, his fief had turned into the world's most desired tourist destination. And he allowed them, but not without conditions. All tourists had to take part in the reenactment. Rent medieval-style clothes and wear them. Keep their phones and modern equipment away. Follow their tour guides and visit the taverns, the Inns. It was a full medieval immersion.
Eventually, the land expanded to 15,000 acres with government support. Special permits were granted, and soon came the crowning jewel: Sunday Events.
Every Sunday, Ludwig donned full plate armor and joined nearly two thousand men in grand mock battles. His wealthy friends formed their own "houses" and competed in jousts, duels, sieges, and melees. Hidden cameras captured everything for live streams.
Soon enough, Ludwig gained the nickname of Lord Kaiser in the media for his historical larping. It was a win-win situation for all. Tourism brought in billions in tax revenue. Locals grew rich running businesses. Ludwig even introduced a formal squire system—the fief's men could earn knighthood under one of the eight noble houses, led by other history-obsessed rich bastards, who were still under him.
Sure, some critics cried foul—called him patriarchal for not allowing women in battle or knighthood. He didn't care. He wasn't running an entertainment company but an accurate historical reenactment.
"This is crazy," Ludwig murmured, staring at the two thousand men in front of him. All were covered in fine armor, holding weapons with blunt edges. They had gathered in front of one of the three castles he owned. This one sat on top of a hill, and today, it was going to come down.
Finally, every government permit had been approved.
After years of planning, Ludwig had done it: three full-scale, historically accurate trebuchets now stood ready. Today, they would lay siege to his Greifenstein Castle.
The castle was empty for now. Once the outer wall collapsed or the gates were blasted open, the defending force would move in—reenactors, armored and trained, ready to keep Ludwig from reaching the commander's flag. A proper battle. Almost.
Paramedics and firefighters stood at a safe distance, just in case. Hidden cameras were planted all around, capturing every angle for the stream. 15 minutes were left for the siege to begin, and the viewer count was already at 40,000.
Gamers, geeks, history buffs, historical larpers—everyone was watching. CGI was one thing. This? This was the real deal.
Trrrrr…~
The ropes creaked as the trebuchets were loaded with incendiary projectiles. There were only three trebuchets. Ludwig had dreamed of twelve, but the cost and time had made that impossible for now.
This is it. The peak of my fucking life. You watching, old man? This is what fun looks like.
"Release!"
Ludwig waved his hand. The three trebuchets fired in unison. Flaming projectiles soared into the sky, screaming through the air before smashing into the castle walls Ludwig himself had paid to build.
BOOM!
Historically, it wasn't supposed to be that loud. But Ludwig allowed it for that day. He wanted the reenactment to feel epic in scale and sound.
"Keep it going!" He barked, then stepped aside to huddle with three fellow lords—his allies in this mock war. There was also his new squire, Bjorn, a resident of the nearby town who had moved there years ago as a construction worker.
Clank!
Clank!
The sound was loud as the armor clanked in his footsteps. But it was the sound he loved the most. His obsession knew no limits. Even willing to destroy a fine castle just to fulfill the dream of seeing one fall under trebuchet fire.
"It won't take long," Ludwig muttered. "Fritz is commanding the other side. Bastard plays dirty—used oil in our last duel. So we'll play dirty, too. There's a secret passage behind the garden. While the main force attacks the front, I'll take ten men and Bjorn to capture the flag."
"Fuck Fritz. His dad stole my dad's patent."
Ludwig looked at Lord James awkwardly. Lord James was fifty years old, and his father was dead. As was Fritz'. The beef between them could be traced a century back.
"Let's crush them," Ludwig shouted and stepped back, awaiting the final fire of the trebuchet. It was pre-decided. While a real siege could last even years, he didn't have that luxury. The permit he had was only good for Sunday.
Moments later, the bombardment stopped. Parts of the castle walls fell, and the gates blasted open. Once the defending army took its place, Ludwig gave the command.
The cavalry charged. Horses thundered across the field in a safe but cinematic stampede. Secret cameras rolled, broadcasting the siege to nearly a million live viewers. A Hollywood studio had already bought the rights to the footage.
The sheer scale. The roars, the shouts, the clashing of metal, the hooves galloping. It was music to Ludwig's ears. He watched it, experienced it, and drowned himself in the ranks of men under his command, vanishing from the leading position so he could sneak around the castle.
"Quick, behind the shrubs!" Ludwig led the eleven men through the secret passage. The cameras were hidden there too and captured their little secret maneuver.
It was a small passage through the castle walls. They had to crouch, but it wasn't impossible to pass. One by one, they rushed into the castle walls and were instantly greeted by the sound of clashing swords and grunting men.
They quickly regrouped and went ahead. The two conditions for the scenario to end were either the defeat of the commander or the entire army. Ludwig, being a commander, quickly lowered his visor and hid his face.
Soon enough, they found many armored men brawling in the castle's halls and corridors. Some ganged up, and some fought in mutually agreed duels. One could give up at any time to ensure safety. There were also armored, marked men who weren't there to fight but to regulate the events.
"Haaaa!"
The ten men in front of Ludwig charged forward and cleared the way so he could go upstairs and face Fritz with his squire at his side.
This is the best shit ever!
Twenty-five years old, soaked in sweat, heart racing—Ludwig was alive in a way he never felt in boardroom meetings. Swordplay, horseback riding, archery… all of it had been for this moment. To feel like a lord.
Perhaps he was far more than a lord in real life. Billionaires were the uncrowned kings of the world. But this… the rush, the steel against steel, the fight for honor and glory, was far more rewarding and exciting.
"Squire!" Ludwig shouted for his squire, Bjorn, as he saw an armored man blocking his way. "Give me a hand here."
Together, the two men covered in steel to the teeth inched closer to the enemy. Instead of using their swords, they took out their long rondel daggers instead; since swords were more of a hindrance in the cramped hallway of the castle.
This was no knightly battle one would see in the movies where men would simply slash once and kill the enemy. No, in a battle of armor and blades, the goal was to find the armor gaps and thrust the blade in there. And that meant brawling with the enemy.
Of course, Ludwig couldn't stab in that fake battle. The rule was that whichever felt the blade probe their body through the gap would surrender.
"I'll go first." Ludwig declared, excited.
Ludwig didn't hesitate—he lunged, knife-hand forward, crashing into the other man. He deflected the incoming blow with his elbow, grabbed the attacker's arm, and threw himself on top. Among the youngest in the event, Ludwig was also the strongest. The moment he landed on his opponent, the brawl was on.
"Argh! That's it! Don't hold back!" Ludwig shouted, just as a boot caught him in the ribs. He lost the advantage and rolled off, but kept a firm grip on his dagger, wrestling to regain control and climb back onto the man's chest.
They panted.
They cursed.
They shouted at each other.
In the chaos, Ludwig didn't even question why his squire hadn't jumped in to help. He was too caught up in the fight.
"I got you!" He growled, spotting a gap under the helmet. He jammed his blunt dagger into it. "You're done."
A second later, Ludwig frowned underneath his helmet. The guy didn't freeze, didn't call surrender according to the rules—just kept squirming and pushing.
"Don't break the damn rules!" Ludwig shouted in anger. He hated such immersion-breaking moments. "Squire! Get over here! Take his helmet off!"
"No."
Ludwig blinked, confused. "What?"
"I don't think I will, Ludwig—ha!"
Oh, that's crazy! Fritz set up a spy? My own damn squire!
Too excited even to think about it, Ludwig hurled himself backward—straight into Bjorn's charging body.
Clank!
They collided. But then Ludwig felt it: a jab at his lower back, slipping between the armor plates.
Shit. He got me.
"Fritz, that bastard. Always playing dirty," Ludwig muttered, still playing along. "Aaargh!"
But then—real pain came.
He twisted to look. Bjorn stood behind him, dagger pressed through the armor's gaps. It wasn't supposed to be sharp enough to hurt.
"Bjorn, it's over," Ludwig said, frowning.
"Not yet," Bjorn growled—and shoved the dagger deeper.
"F-Fuck! Wh-What—ah!" The pain was real this time. Ludwig collapsed to his knees. It pierced through the padding, cut deep. "You... brought a real one... by mistake?"
Thud!
Ludwig fell face forward, flat on the stone floor. He could feel blood ooze from his wound.
"Hah... You still don't get it, do you?" Bjorn snarled, straddling his back. He ripped off Ludwig's helmet and flung it aside. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he yanked Ludwig's head up and pressed the dagger to his throat. "This isn't a mistake. I've waited long enough. I'm going to kill you."
What the hell is this? This is too real… Bipolar? Delusional? Ludwig tried to reason in his pain. Perhaps he was the cynical one in that situation.
"F-Fine… What do you want? Money? I surrender to Fritz. He'll hold me for ransom anyway. That's the rul—"
Bam!
Bjorn bashed Ludwig's face on the floor, crushing his nose and bloodying his mouth. "You really don't get it, do you? I don't give a fuck about this… this fucking game of yours! This waste of fucking money! You don't deserve all that fucking money, Ludwig… I do!"
"Ghk... Aagh… c-call the doc—" Ludwig started losing his ability to speak properly. The bleeding had increased as Bjorn sat on his back.
But the blade only pressed harder on his neck.
Is this it? What's even going on?
"W-Who... who are you?"
"I'm your brother, Ludwig. Well, one of many. Your father fucked around too much and then left us all to rot. And then I saw your smug face on the news, talking about this ridiculous fantasy world you're building—You don't deserve any of this!"
It struck Ludwig all at once. His teeth were clenched. Blood dripped between them.
Damn you, old man. So you really did have more kids… after Mom… Shit… I can't die here. Not now. I'm so close to the dream… thirty trebuchets ordered… I can't die before I see that, fuck!
"You-uh bastard!" Ludwig growled.
"Haha! That's who I am. Good night, brother. And fuck you. And fuck your father too."
Slash!
No… not like this… not yet… my castles… I wanted to build… fuck… I-uh—"