I thought things were going so well. I am...I mean, was, in a very successful band in my home town. I play the drums. I'm probably not the greatest drummer in the world, but you know, we make rock'n'roll that's fun to dance to, and I'm a good enough drummer that the girls would be dancing up the front as we played at the Cavern. That's what matters, right? Rock'n'roll is such great dance music.

Anyway, recently we had recently signed a record contract with a major record label, and made enough money that I was making more than my Dad each week. We had a session at the record label's studios in London recently, that I thought went alright, though I think everyone is still figuring out how the recording studio works.

In terms of this band, my mates reckon I'm kind of the most handsome man in the band, and, let's face it, drummers like me have never had a hard time attracting the ladies. I think the rest of them were a bit jealous, honestly. But I've never quite clicked with the three of them, to be honest - J, the leader of the band, kind of scares me, and I've seen him do some crazy/terrifying things, especially when we were touring Germany, when he was doing Hitler salutes etc. I saw him beat someone up on the street, and he's always been a bully.

I can't quite tell whether the other two (P and G) genuinely admire him and or whether they're scared of him. He's wild, and not in a good way - most of my mates' parents hate him (my Mum loves them though, she has a soft spot for boys like that she calls 'cheeky', and a big part of the success of the band was that she let us basically rehearse in her shop so we could get better and better). I never ever got their weird in-jokes, I didn't know what they were talking about half the time, with all that Goon Show stuff they'd put in conversation. But you know, we make good music together, and make a lot of money, so I can deal with that.

Anyway, the other day, the band manager rang me up. I thought it would be about us having a gig in Manchester or something. Nope: he was informing me that I was sacked, replaced by R who's been playing in the Hurricanes until recently.

The fuckers. J didn't have the balls to tell me to my face. Anyway, I was furious - suddenly I was out of the band, and the 'toppermost of the poppermost', as J called it (he does have a way with words) wasn't something I was going to be experiencing with them. I told a bunch of my mates, and they were furious too. I ran into one of the band fans who I think has a big thing for me, and she saw I was in a bad mood, and asked what was up. I shouldn't have said anything probably, but I told her - 'I've been sacked from the band'.

She started crying. "Who's playing drums now?" she asked through her tears. "R who was in the Hurricanes," I said.

"But he's rubbish!", she replied. "BestOfTheBeatles forever, R never!"

Why I feel bad is that I hear that basically R got beaten up after being introduced as the new drummer, while some girls were chanting "BestOfTheBeatles forever, R never". I don't have anything against R apart from that he's got my job. He's an alright bloke who's had a bit of a tough life, and I feel a bit bad. Wish they'd beaten up bloody J, who's the worst. I think I set this in motion by winding up my mates about me leaving because I was so furious. AITA for not trying to dissuade them from beating up poor R?

Hello everyone, I'm asking this because I'm not quite sure. I don't think I screwed up, but some people go on calling me a murderer and a parricide. Since I'm not in very good terms with them, I'd rather have neutral people help me figure out if I was wrong.

So here it goes. I have always thought there was something fishy about my nephew, Louis d'Orléans. He was a great kid, back in the days, but he made me uncomfortable. Maybe that's because he was kinda ambitious and he loved politics growing up.

Yet our rivalry started when he became of age and started trying to out-influence me in the court. You see, my uncle is the king of France, by the name of Charles VI. He was the good guy, you know, and people even called me "The good", and that says a lot. But he's turned insane, the "batshit crazy" insane, were he kills people on a rampage and goes to depression. Poor guy.

So anyway, the family staged an intervention and we decided to help him rule the kingdom. That's what every good family would and should do ! So we create a council, to deal with the power when the king is out of his mind. That little rat of nephew manages to be the most important figure in the council, much to my despite. And he wants to continue the war against England, too, when my cities of Flanders need the wool the Brits produce !

Yet, I could forgive him for all that. But my father and then my mother died, and I had to deal with the succession and all (you know how the administration suddenly remembers you exist when they need you to pay. No one to help me keep the power in Paris, but everyone is very fond of my succession, hum ?). And so when I'm in Flanders and in Burgundy for this succession paperwork, he takes the opportunity to lower the poor allowance my uncle the king had given me ! Like, as a good uncle, he gave me some money, barely anything, just enough to survive ! And the little bastard reduces it to thin air.

Well, of course, I went mad. Long story short, we end up preparing our armies for war and do a bit of showdown. Our good uncle tries to calm everything down in a moment of respite. I swear to lay down my weapons and disband my armies, and he does the same.

Yet, when the king goes back to whack-a-servant, he manages to cleanse the council from all my supporters.

That's when I understood that he was just a dick and that he was messing with me for pleasure. So I had him assassinated. It's not like he was a kid anyway, he's only one year younger than me.

My supporters and many parisians think I did the right thing. His son, his wife and his close family think I'm an asshole. Our uncle said it wasn't right, but he forgave me anyway. I think that's enough, the king said I should be forgiven. Why won't his son stop talking about revenge ? Or am I really the asshole ?

So, kind of a tough question. I don't wanna brag, but I recently got married to the daughter of king Kotys of Thrace. Yep, I'm the son of a shoemaker and I married a princess. No big deal, haha. I've been working with Kotys a fair bit trying to recapture Amphipolis for Athens, and up here in the north you have to keep your ties strong. Blood runs thicker than Laurian silver. That's also why I took care of this young Macedonian prince called Philippos for a bit, on behalf of his mum. He's a promising lad.

Anyway, since the Athenians falsely accused me of treason again and they haven't been electing me to the generalship I needed somewhere to lay low for a while. Kotys gave me some land as a dowry and I wasn't about to say no. So I've been chilling on my estate up in Thrace and of course I'm a familiar face at the court of the king. But then Athens turns around and declares war on him!

Obviously Kotys knows he's got an experienced general at his side who knows the Greek ways. So there he goes, asking me to organise the defence... Now the triremes are approaching, and I have to ask: love or country? My father-in-law or my honour?

You often see the depiction of songs being written after historic events within media such as tv and film. Are there any surviving evidence of such songs or bards tales?

I [M, almost 50] left my respectable job as a school teacher to follow the call of my beknighted prince, whose birthright was so cruelly taken from him, and rise in rebellion against the Hanoverian Pretender. Though my status was recognized and I became the Prince's own tutor, our plans came to ruin. He was forced to leave Scotland at great personal risk and now travels to the courts of Europe, incognito, in search of succor and support for our cause. My own land has now been stolen from me and my wife and child live homeless in the hills. I, on the other hand, have been awarded a sum of money to publish a book of my poetry calling the clans to rebellion. Now is the time. We have the Spanish treasure, buried where it will be safe, and there has never been such unrest in all the land. I *must* play my part, even if my family suffers, right?

I (65m) became king in my late teenage years. The empire that dominated the premises had abandoned them since decades and mandated Barbarian warlords to rule in its place over it. Some of them were actually quite powerful and rich in the southern lands, but what I got was a small army and a mandate from a remote emperor (that probably couldn't remember by name if he wanted to) over a small territory. Although Franks had been good allies of the Empire, they remained mostly peripheral and didn't get much of the cake : to be honest, some of them almost look like Lovecraftian swamp people you'd expect to have a thing for fishes.

I didn't rule over all of them : other kings had similar pocket-sized kingdoms all over the place between the Rhine and the Somme, and a renegade general even styled himself as a "king" because he lorded over Frankish officers and units. I was more or less importantly related to most of them either by blood (Cararic, Ragnacar and Rangomer being my cousins) or by alliance (Sigebert being sort-of my father-in-law).

My own father was once removed and had to go in exile for a while to save his life, and I half-expected to be challenged myself at some point. So I did what he did himself when he came back to power : ally myself with a distant imperial authority and increase my prestige trough warring prowess and victories. I thus proposed the other petty-kings to remove Syagrius out of Gaul, as it would be both legal (as governor of Belgica Secunda myself, I had more legal basis to my power than any Roman warlord) and profitable? Sincerely, most of them did good on their alliance and I couldn't have (if slowly) took over the land between Loire and Somme without their support. Cararic couldn't stop himself being a jerk and just waited with his men at Soissons until a winner emerged but still expecting part of the loot.

I was joining a really nice social club, very well connected but with a lot of rules and recommendations and these Christians wouldn't have appreciated me going ancient on Cararic's a**. So, as soon as I could, I only removed him and his son from their territorial and military power and forced them into a clerical career, for the sake of their soul and my tranquility. Frankly, my own grand-father and father wouldn't have thought twice about offing them.; but for the sake of family and my own ambitions, I was ready to give this "do onto others" thing a try.

As I was becoming the thing in Northern Gaul, I didn't forget about my allies. I supported Sigibert against raiders while I already switched my main alliances by marrying a Burgundian princess : now, I'm not going to lie, doing so was a sure way to gain the loyalty of the king and especially his troops so I couldn't outright dismiss the issue, but they didn't join me in my wars only for the goodness of their heart themselves, didn't they?

And it's not like it was the best of times either to distract myself from what happened in the south : I had to help one of my brother-in-law against the other one, which could really have gone south as the first was executed with his son by the other. But we got in agreement, and he even allied with me against the Gothic king that just saved him from this fate, so I got what I wanted anyway. I was beginning to suspect familial ties didn't always lived to expectations, though, even if my relatives still supported me against Goths and partook in my conquest of Aquitaine. It was my hour of triumph, and I have to say they had a part on it.

But I couldn't help thinking who can I really rely on? Plotting and succession conflicts weren't rare among Franks. Soon enough I was told Cararic and his son were planning to murder me, probably pretexting of the youth of my sons to deprive them from their rightful inheritance.
I first sound out Cloderic, the son of Sigibert, that was a good ally at Vouillé and boy was it an eye-opener : apparently all that needed to say to have him killing his father was that he was a cripple anyway and that I would support the succession. Of course, I had him secretly killed (like I was going to support a traitor and a parricide) and was chosen as king by their people.

Now, I didn't go in a blood rampage, and I did spare the young children or anyone not in position of harming me, having them baptized and later gave them honors and role I could control. But clearly, being too nice was risking betrayal.

So, I had Cararic and his son being executed for plotting, definitely taking over their men and treasuries (I mean, a good part of it was coming from my victories they barely helped with anyway). Thing is, feude among Franks can really go wild if the cycle of revenge is led by powerful people : Cararic's brothers Ragnachar and Rangomer were kings of their own rights and could become a nuisance for me. They started the whole thing, but I was going to finish it.

Ragnachar himself was a freakish degenerate, and quite stab-happy, so he was to be dealt with swiftly. It wasn't too hard to bribe some of his trusted men and they betrayed him as I went to met him in battle : he even had the nerve to let himself being captured (he really had no shame) along with his brother (who didn't really tried to support him in the first place, what a family) so I killed them on the spot. The guys that betrayed him then had the nerve to complain I bribed them not with false gold, but I shut them up. I mean, traitors don't get to complain and I certainly wouldn't trust them with actual display of my goodwill.

Finally, I dealt with Rangomer : I didn't have anything specific to reproach him, but I had to make sure he wouldn't try to avenge his brothers at some point and this was the most efficient way to do it. As for the Rhenish families, I didn't harm the entirety of my cousins' family. I'm not a bloodthirsty man, so they'll receive a Christian education and some power under my and my sons's authority.

But, to be honest, it left me thinking : even if they deteriorated, I had more or less distant but working relationships with my cousins and my first in-laws. The younger generation is doing well, and I fully expect my sons to be great kings of their own (even if I'll probably give each of them a part of the realm as the emperors did), but I don't relate this much with a lot of people in my generation.

Don't get me wrong, senators and bishops are nice and supportive guys and there's even good commanders among them like Aurelianus. But I really miss the days of my youth when the Frankish kings went side-by-side to fight their enemies, being surrounded by war-minded relatives dashing and coming crashing down on our foes. It's kind of sad this had to end this way but when I complained that I felt like a traveler among strangers, without any relative strong enough to help or protect me if I ever need it, people give me shit about it telling it was my own fault. Some even, behind my back, even say that I'm only publicly complaining about my lack of familial support because I want to make sure I didn't miss someone to kill off.

AITA for complaining? I really feel like I had no other choice than kill them even if I miss them.

Hys graunsire dude seised þa coroun of Fraunce from Oure graunsire to hys gret disavaille and he ys madde. We areran folle strenghful kyng and we possessid Oure folle wittes and walde be a goud hosebond. It walde be a goud mariage and ys moreouer Oure right as ys leueful kyng.

Are We Þa Ershole?

ey everyone, I (M 46) have been dealing with some pretty big issues at work, and I want to make sure I'm in the right here before I make some big decisions.

So I've worked for my boss (well, series of bosses, but let's collectively call them Big E) for a long time on and off. E runs a bunch of big groups in the area--it's a family thing. He does this thing where he hires people for whatever big project he needs at the time, then lets them go afterwards. Pretty standard in my line of work. I've been doing this for most of my career so far, and--combined with a big inheritance--I was pretty well set financially.

However, about...10 years ago or so? A big project came up, something that had to be dealt with now. This guy from over by the river, Fred, basically tried a hostile takeover of one of E's most important subsidiaries. Big E was pretty strapped for cash at a time. Had to have his buddy Max come in with his own crew to help deal with Fred and try to make some headway in making sure the take over didn't succeed. Max did pretty good at keeping things under control, but it was pretty clear Max was trying to make it so he was indispensible to Big E. Made E hand over some of his other subsidiaries for a little bit to 'ensure repayment' or something. I knew that would make Big E pretty uncomfortable, so I reached out to Big E, and basically offered my services to him. I'd put together a crew myself, and help Max tackle this project. We'd work together, but I knew Big E would feel much better having me there alongside Max's group, given I worked for E directly.

All went well and good for a while. Like I said, I'm very good at my job, and pretty soon I was doing very nice business. Big E was still strapped for cash, so I was loaning him quite a bit in exchange for favors. (E is very well connected and was able to repay me with a bunch of stuff, including a lot of land). We'd pretty much dealt with the original project, but you know how mission creep is. Some other guy, Chris, started throwing it in with Fred, and we had to go try and keep him in line too. Max's crew and I did really well together, and pretty soon Fred had run off to vacation with his in-laws, and Chris wasn't much of a problem anymore. I'd been very good at keeping costs down, using novel methods to make it so that others were footing most of the bills.

Now, by this point E owes me a lot of money, both for the services I'm providing and the money I'm loaning him. Since I know E's still strapped for cash, I ask for the deed to a few more pieces of land. However, when I ask him, E shoots back accusing me of trying to take over his business! I mean, what the hell? Apparently Max and some of E's other advisors have been talking about how I'm clearly plotting something, like trying to compete with E directly. Total bullshit if you ask me. But next thing I know, I'm getting a letter informing me that I've been fired and to hand over control of my group to Max's chief guy in the field.

Despite being really pissed off about this, I played the good guy and went back home to try and enjoy the rest of my life in peace. But now I hear that Max's guy (Johan) has really mucked this up cause this new guy just showed up, and some people are talking about how E might want to bring me back. So, before I make any big decisions, I want to know what you think about the past. Was asking for land instead of cash really too far? I'm just trying to arrange just compensation for all the work I've put in making sure E's whole operation didn't come crashing down.

So, to summarise: AITA for asking for land instead of cash from my boss? And what should I tell him if he tries to get me to deal with this Gustavus guy?

Some background. You may, perhaps, have seen me take a turn or two at the West End - no big parts yet, but the critics say I am destined to become a well-known comic film actor (they sometimes use the term 'Brian Blessed-esque', whatever that might mean), known for my beardy presence, ribald humour and entirely legitimate Highland accent, having very definitely been born in Dornoch and not South London. I was briefly educated at both University College London and the University of Bonn, and have had quite the interesting and varied career that I didn't at all fabricate, having worked as a insurance salesman, gold miner, lumberjack, dishwasher on a Dutch freighter, the secretary of the British Ice Hockey Association and racecar driver. I am a renowned polyglot - some (me) say I command over twenty tongues!

I came to Spain in January 1937 a dashing captain - in the prime of my life! - after a highly successful stint as a League of Nations policeman in the Saarland, where I was definitely a captain and definitely not responsible for the deaths by gunshot of several innocent bystanders, which in turn definitely had no bearing on my decision to come to Spain. No sir! I merely wished to allow the beleagured Republican government the chance to make use of my many and varied talents. Not on the front, of course - a man of my talents and experience can be better employed elsewhere. I became commandant of the International Brigades base at the town of Madrigeuras (a village famed for its knives, wine and spatulas).

Here is the rub, of course. Alongside the good stout-hearted Britons that made up my own company there were - you'll not believe this - also French volunteers encamped in my town. This was an affront to my Englishness Scottishness. Of course, ever the diplomat, I confined my distaste to a few choice comments in the ears of my countrymen. Could I have ever predicted that this might encourage them to waylay their French comrades in arms, leading to several affrays amidst 'a great deal of Anti-French feeling'? Really, had they not wanted to be vigourously assaulted, could they not have considered simply not being French? That's what the Saarlanders did at any rate, and look how well that turned out.

My superiors of course had little sympathy for the plight of some Froggy degenerates. But my peace was short-lived. A trifling amount of medical supplies went missing - such things happen in war, you know - and the vilest slanderous questions began to emerge:

'Did you take the missing morphine, Captain Justice?'

'Exactly who made you a Captain anyway?'

'What exactly happened in the Saarland?'

'For christ's sake man, you're high as a kite aren't you?'

Thus, I was inelegantly dumped back over the border - into France, of all the indignities. The Spanish Republicans insist on calling me 'disruptive', 'careerist', 'opportunist' and a 'drug addict'. What say you dear reader - AITA?

Could the king in achaemenid persia banish his Queen consort on a whim and do whatever he wants with No consequence just like in the Book of Esther?

I am the governor of Santa Marta del Darién, but the Laws of the Indies don't allow certain things, amongst them is the import to the Indies of some useful machineries, such as grindstones and mill-stones. The savages around here don't have anything to that effect, and don't even have metals, so toiling the lands, and clearing the jungle is excedingly difficult.

With this situation, I decided to set up my own operation. I brought from Spain four grindstones for sharpening my own utensils, my sword, dagger, etc. I also decided to bring some farming equipment such as axes to chop down trees. The thing is, if I sell one axe and it lasts forever, I am hardly making any money, and the office of governor is not well paid. So, I bring axes of the cheapest quality iron, those need fixing and resharpening every so often, and make a killing from the technical service.

I (35M) am King of France; I am from a very old, distinguished family and am having a bit of trouble dealing with an upstart family that is threatening to encroach into my territory. To make matters worse, the Pope has place France under interdict, meaning that no weddings, burials, or delivery of any of the sacraments can take place.

To start with some background: My father's first wife failed to give him a son, and betrayed him by marrying the heir to a rival kingdom after their annulment was finalized. She proceeded to have eight children with her second husband, five of them sons. I was actually very good friends with their fourth son, Geoffrey, but he died after he was trampled to death in a tournament I was hosting. However, their third son, Richard, was a perpetual thorn in my side since he inherited his father's Kingdom. First, he insulted my sister Alys by refusing to honor his betrothal to her, claiming that she had slept with his own father. He left her in disgrace and married a Princess of Navarre. Who even cares about Navarre?

We went on a Crusade together, during which he refused to share the spoils of his conquest of Cyprus with me, even after we agreed to share the spoils of Crusade, and then he proceeded to take all of the glory for himself! When I left due to illness, he had the nerve to call me cowardly! He then conspired to have my man in Outremer, Conrad of Montferrat, assassinated so he could make his own candidate King of Jerusalem! Granted, Henry of Champagne is our mutual nephew, being the son of our shared half-sister, but Henry is clearly Richard's man.

In order to mitigate Richard's damage to my Kingdom, I did assist the Duke of Austria and Holy Roman Emperor in keeping Richard prisoner. However, you must understand that I was working for the good of France. Richard is very talented, particularly at warfare, and so long as he is free, he will continue expanding into my territory. I was not the only one in on this plan - his younger brother also supported this venture.

Sure enough, eventually Richard was released due to the intervention of the Pope and the persistence of his meddling mother. Sure enough, he started the business of expanding into my lands! Mercifully for France, Richard died of a crossbow bolt to the shoulder in September of last year, may God rest his soul. However, his younger brother, John (34M), has inherited the crown and is positioning himself to carve into my territory, just as his father and brother did before. I'm not sure where he stands yet.

Meanwhile, I'm having my own problems internally. A few years ago, I married a Danish Princess, Ingeborg (26F), who we call Isambour in proper French. Her dowry was substantial, but when I retired to bed with her for the first time, I was disgusted to learn that she had breath so foul that I was unable to *do the deed* so to speak. I requested an annulment from my advisors, but Isambour insisted that I had, in fact slept with her and refused to vacate the palace. I had no choice but to imprison her for such defiance. I declared the marriage void and have since remarried. My new wife, Agnes (25F), and I are very happy and have two children together.

Somehow, Isambour has gotten the support of the Pope. My relations with the Papacy were already on shaky ground as Innocent III's predecessor had condemned the imprisonment of Richard the Lionheart. Innocent has now declared all of my lands to be under interdict until I dismiss Agnes and resume my marriage to Isambour.

Did I take this all too far? Should I do as he says or stand my ground? AITA?

A lot of my cousins have been saying stuff behind my back about me so I did an interview with the Daily Telegraph to put the record straight. Only thing is, when they sent me the article to make sure it was okay before publishing it, I couldn't be bothered to edit it because I'm the Kaiser, so I fobbed it off on my secretary (I think the official title is Chancellor but I've not read the constitution so I don't know). Turns out I accidentally called the English "mad as March hares", and said that France and Russia tried to get me to join the Boer War.

Now everyone is pissed off at me. AITA?

I am Sokrates, son of Sophroniskos, of the deme Alopeke. AITA?

Some background: we’re in the middle of the Corinthian War (395-386 BC). I, Iphikrates son of Timotheos (late 20s, M) am an officer in the Athenian garrison of Corinth. I command the peltasts while the general Kallias commands the hoplites. For the last 2 years, my peltasts have been making life hell for Sparta’s allies in the surrounding area. These days they don’t even dare to come out, they’re so scared of me. They suspect an ambush behind every blade of grass. But the Spartans look down my men. The Spartans think they’re invincible. They make fun of their allies, saying they are like little children scared of the bogeyman. Ha! They paid for their contempt.

The Spartans have their garrison just a few kilometres away, in Lechaion, down by the sea. The other day, a part of that garrison went home to Sparta for a festival. Their religious calendar is a bit funny, not like the rest of Lakedaimon. Anyway, since we can see their movements from the walls of Corinth, the whole enemy garrison escorted the ones going home until they were safely out of sight. On their way back to Lechaion, the escort came through the plain below the walls again. I saw that there were only hoplites, with no support troops, and that they were marching with their naked side facing us. I persuaded Kallias to attack.

While Kallias drew up our hoplites near the walls, I rushed down into the plain with my peltasts, who went at the Spartans with their javelins. The youngest Spartans tried to run out and catch my men, but their shields slowed them down, so my lads had no trouble keeping out of their grasp. As soon as they turned to go back to their formation, we’d be at their backs again with the javelins. This went on for a while; even after the Spartans brought up some horsemen to support them, they couldn’t find a way to get at us. They couldn’t pursue as far as they wanted, since they could see Kallias with our phalanx waiting for them up the slope. There was nothing they could do except wear themselves out and die. It was glorious.

In the end the Spartans gathered on a low hill. We all thought they might make a final stand like their famous ancestors – but instead they broke and fled. It was a sight, my friend! Spartans running for their lives, getting skewered like fish and chopped up with cleavers by my Thracians. Some of them managed to make it back to Lechaion, but hundreds of them lay scattered about the plain. Job done; I annihilated a sixth of the Spartan army without losing a single man.

I say this is what they get for their arrogance. They think they’re better than other men. They shouldn’t have been so stupid, so overconfident, marching out with no one in support.

But now people are telling me that the javelin is a coward’s weapon! Me, I don’t come from money; I don’t have time for these delusions. But those fancy rich boy Spartans are complaining that they weren’t beaten fair and square. That I wouldn’t have the guts to meet them face to face! Come on, now. Their allies warned them that I was in Corinth waiting for a chance to attack. And it’s not the first time someone’s dealt with them like this. All’s fair in war, right? Or AITA here?

So I'm in a bit of a pickle here. I mean, you've probably heard of me, Dareios, grandson of Arsames the Achaemenid, right? No? Well, okay, I mean, I'm a pretty big deal - I used to be the spear-bearer of King Cambyses, you know? Son of Cyrus, conqueror of Egypt, pretty cool guy. So uh, Cambyses had this rivalry thing with his brother, Bardiya, and well… Cambyses went to campaign in Egypt and kind of just… died, and Bardiya - well, you know, this guy claiming to be Bardiya - said he was king now. Well actually, you know, come to think of it, I'm pretty sure it was before Cambyses died.

And this whole thing just struck me as weird, you know? The king dies, and suddenly his brother is king just like that? Or before the king dies, whatever. And everyone just forgets about me, the king's, like, almost his third cousin or something! How come nobody asked me to be king? So I figured something weird was going on, and thought, I guess Cambyses probably killed the real Bardiya in secret and that this guy is an impostor - probably some Magian called Gaumata or whatever. I mean, that's really the only way to make sense of the situation, right? It's pretty obvious when you think about it. Everyone else was probably thinking it too, they were just too scared to say it.

So I gather some of my bros - Gobryas, Otanes, you know, the crew, and we go to talk to "Bardiya", but I kind of end up, you know, stabbing him to death. Oops! But since there's no king now, and I was, like, basically next in line, I just went ahead and said "hey, guess I'm the king now :/". I went ahead and sent out letters across the realm explaining the whole thing - I'm actually thinking of carving it into a cliffside and shearing off the rock beneath, just to keep the record straight.

And now while I'm trying to govern, for whatever reason, there's like a dozen pretty big-name guys being all like, "hey, I don't think you should be king, bro" and "actually, I'm the real Bardiya". I even married Cambyses' sisters - also his widows, funnily enough - and the real Bardiya's daughter too. I don't get it, it's like these weirdos don't understand how monarchy works? I've killed and mutilated one of them to make that point, but despite this people still seem to have some kind of personal issue with me. I talked it over with Gobryas and he was like, bro, let's just go down the list and keep killing them when they try this kind of nonsense, let's not waste our time making sense of these unreasonable people. Most people have to agree with me, right?

And I'm thinking Gobryas has a point, but I'm also like, is it possible I've done something wrong here? What do you think, AITA? :/

MY NIECE WIFE SAID IT WAS ALL RIGHT! WHY ARE THE GODS ANGRY WITH ME?

Hi everyone,

When I was checking the history of Persia, I noticed there were other Achaemenid kings before Cyrus known as House of Achaemenes. I looked for sources about them but could find none. I was wondering if anyone knows about the house of Achaemenes and the Persian empire (where it was located near Elam) before its expansion by King Cyrus? What was their History? What religion did they practice since Zoroastrianism was a Median faith? What was their language and writing system (if they had one for the latter)?

Keywords I'm looking for are: Ariaramnes, Achaemenes, Teisepes, Cyrus 1.

This is a complicated story, but I think you'll agree I have been dealt quite a bit of injustice by my dear cousin and Emperor Frederick Barbarossa.

Frederick and I were allies for a long time, going back at least to his election as king of the Germans. My support was no doubt instrumental to him being chosen over Conrad III’s son and heir. And in return he helped me restore my rightful claim to the Duchy of Bavaria. Of course there were other reasons we formed such a strong relationship. I had no siblings, as my father died very young. Frederick’s half-brother was over a decade younger, not even 20 when Conrad died and Frederick was elected king. So we two cousins were natural allies, and worked together for decades.

We went to Italy together many times. On our first trip, Frederick was crowned Holy Roman Emperor by the pope, and we fought together in the streets of Rome. But it was our second trip, in 1158, that was really something. We besieged and conquered Milan, and were making our way through the other northern cities, when the Pope died. Somehow, we got into the middle of choosing the rightful new Pope, as two Cardinals were struggling over the Papacy. Frederick chose Victor after Alexander III refused to come to an audience with Frederick; that would have worked out, except Victor went and died on us. We went back down to Italy twice more together to fight the Italians after that.

But as time went by, it just turned into Italy, Italy, Italy with Frederick. Muster at Augsburg this spring and let’s try to get to Sicily *again*. When he went down for his fifth attempt, I just couldn’t go with him.

Look, I had a lot of issues at home. Although I am, obviously, the rightful ruler of Saxony, that didn’t stop other, lesser lords vying for power against each other and against me. Constant squabbling. It took a lot to solidify my power there. If I want to do anything in Saxony, I have to convince half a dozen pig headed Lords to come along with me, and I’m constantly stamping out fires that start when my back is turned. Not to mention my righteous wars against the Slavs to the east. And then Bavaria is another story all together. I honestly never had enough time to actually go down there and stay long enough to really consolidate my power. I’ve followed Frederick down into Italy to crush Milan enough times. I needed to deal with my own issues in my own backyard and not pick any more fights with the damn Pope or the Italians.

And to be honest, Frederick was sometimes not all that supportive of me. I know that he is the Emperor, and has to balance the needs of everyone in Germany against his own needs. But I was his most important ally. I was the one negotiating between the emperor and the pope. The emperor and the bishops. The emperor and the other, lesser nobles. Yet somehow I couldn’t always trust Frederick to have my back against the other lords. To be honest, part of this might have been that his own children were getting older. He didn’t need his cousin so much anymore, but he did need to start handing out titles and lands to his own sons, and start consolidating their power. I understand that, really I do. But I would think he would then understand that I had my own things I need to take care of.

Imagine my shock – imagine Europe’s shock – when Frederick started losing battles to the Italians. He asked for my help, but at that point I had no interest in wasteful Italian campaigns, and I couldn’t even convince him to sweeten the deal for me by offering me, say, Goslar, a nice Saxon city. I thought he would finally have enough and come home. But no, he besieged Legnano and lost badly. It turns out the might of the German empire may have been my Saxon knights.

At that point, I really got to see who my friends were. Suddenly my squabbling lords were squabbling against me in earnest. I was even accused of treason. Ultimately, Frederick exiled me. I wasn’t going to go without a fight, but I was outnumbered. Luckily, my dear wife Matilda was the daughter of Henry II of England (another Lion!) and Eleanor of Aquitaine. Lucky for us, Henry and Eleanor were glad to see Maud again, and we found shelter with the English court. But I longed to go back to my rightful lands in Saxony. Ultimately I knew that I needed to humble myself, and ask for forgiveness from Frederick. And it worked! We went back to Saxony, and I got to return to my beloved Braunschweig. But it wasn’t to last. Frederick and his foreign wars struck again! He dangled all of my old lands and titles in front of me, if only I would agree to go on crusade with him. Look, I was too old for that. Frederick was too old for that. I declined. And it was back to England for me.

And now here we are. Frederick is planning to go on Crusade. My beloved Mathilda is dead, along with her father. It’s me and her brother Richard the Lionheart here in England. But Richard is now talking about going along on this Crusade, but England is feeling a little claustrophobic between me, Richard, and John (who is a loser, don’t get me started). And I happen to know that I would have a lot of support in Saxony. This feels like my chance to go back in there, take what’s rightfully mine, maybe get a little revenge on the people who betrayed me. What do you guys think? WIBTA if I invaded Saxony?

Hey all, so I’m in a real bind here, and I could use some help.

Essentially, it goes like this: I created this pan-Asiatic empire with my barehands, prying piece by piece the screaming, gnashing remnants of the stagnant old world loose from their fixtures and forging them into a new, unstoppable juggernaut. I’m very proud of this; it’s something I’ve really put my heart and soul into.

But I know I’m getting on in the years, and try as I may, there seems to be no getting around the inevitable: that one of these days I’m gonna kick the ol’ airag bucket and ascend to the Eternal Blue Sky. So, I get my sons together and we have a classic family sit-down over this very issue.

I should probably introduce my kids:

• The oldest, who I’ll call Joffrey*: He’s a quick fella, but a little mopey and down in the dumps all the time. I don’t think he likes me very much. Also his brothers make fun of him and call him a “bastard” all the time because of some gray-area with his mom back when we first got hitched. I love him like he’s my own, but his – erm questionable parentage has always seemed to hang in everyone’s craw – especially his.
• 2nd oldest is Chyswick*: He’s a real lunk. As dumb as he is hard-headed, and loves nothing more than his “wives.” Oh man, does he love making girls into his “wives.”
• 3rd is Oberyn* - He’s a real party-animal… a little too much, if you ask me, but everyone seems to like the guy. Gets a little stabby if he gets too much into his cups (which is basically always), but otherwise I like the fact that he’s not so obsessed with money… seems to not care about it at all, really!
• Last (but not least) is Tommen*: a real chip off the ol’ block! His father’s son, no doubt about it! Some people even think he’s got magic powers! He’s as fierce as he is whip-smart!
  *names changed to protect their identities

Anyways, so I get them all together thinking this is gonna be a nice, quiet family dinner and chat, and we’ll all agree about who should get to rule my empire after I’m gone. Having them all agree is very important to me. Well, long story short… things descend quickly into a real fustercluck. Joffrey starts by saying he’s the oldest, but Chyswick starts insulting Joffrey the moment he says anything, calling him a bastard and not my son. I tell Chyswick I’ve had about enough of him and to shut it.

So I figure it can’t really be either of them – they’re my 2 oldest, but if I give them empire to either of them, the other one’s definitely gonna rebel before my body’s even cold!

My second thought is to give it to my youngest, Tommen, since he’s such a spitting-image of his old man. Usually this wouldn’t be a big deal, since it’s sort of a family tradition to have the youngest inherit everything… but there’s something nagging at the back of my mind. See – I grew up all piss-and-vinegar, a real spitfire… crushing my enemies, seeing them driven before me, and hearing the lamentations of their women – I was all about that life! But as I’ve gotten older and a bit wiser, I’ve come to realize that there might be more to life than just blood and vengeance… I’ve really started to view this whole empire-building project as my “nest egg” and I really want it to work out, longterm. But when I look at Tommen, I see all fire and fury, and no real managerial skillset. He’d be fantastic in Mergers & Acquisitions, but he’s not really CEO material, y’know what I’m saying?

So finally I come to the conclusion that the only real choice is Oberyn – my drunkard third-born. He’s a fine enough choice… no one really hates him. And Tommen loves the guy more than life itself, seems like. But I don’t want to leave all my other boys out in the cold… and now we get to the real crux of my problem.

I kinda sorta divided up my empire into 4 pieces among them, in order to make them all happy. If you’re a parent, you know what I’m talking about. Sometimes the only way to get your boys to stop trying to poke and/or assassinate each other is to put a line down the middle of the room and tell them that they each get a side, and cannot cross the duct-tape. Joffrey got the Far West, Chyswick got the south, Tommen got the east… and Oberyn got the Big Chair and the central imperial demesne. Seems fair to me.

But since then, it’s got me wondering… did I really solve the problem, or just maybe kick the can down the road by a couple of decades? All the boys promise to be loyal to Oberyn after me… but what about their kids? And their kids’ kids? Will they value the unity of my creation as much as I do? Have I made a mistake? Am I just avoiding pulling off the band-aid right now because it’s easier, but leaving a much more difficult thing for the future generations I’ll never have to meet? Am I the Asshole?

Okay, so this is a longer story but context is everything so I can't leave anything out.

Basically, few years back (1500 AD) I(33M) was given command of the second expedition to the Indian ocean by my good friend, the King(31M) of Portugal. I myself think that I was doing the best job! We did lose five of thirteen ships on the way there, but we bumped into some strange land in the West and claimed it for my pal, the King, so tit for tat.

Once in India is where the things start to get messy. The thing is, they have this horrible weather there, rainy and windy, monsoons they call it, and it lasts for like a half of year or something. And if we don't start heading back before this weather sets in, we have to stay there till next year! Unimaginable. What would the King say!?

So we have to buy up all the pepper and spices there as fast as we can. But guess what? The locals there hated our guts and didn't want to sell any spices to us. Pure discrimanation! Just because we hated their guts as well, and told it to their faces (freedom of speech), doesn't mean they can just refuse our money and not do business with us on our terms, am I right or am I right!?

Anyway, as the lousy infidels didn't want to sell us the spices willingly, we went to the local pagan King, which i think was called Zamorin to force them, as he as a proper ruler should! And what does the dude say? "The goverment doesn't interfere with the economy", and something like "The invisible hand of the market should regulate itself" or something. Bah!

Well, I am a god-fearing christian I don't believe in no pagan idols or whatever this invisible demon is suppose to be. But I do know all about of power of authority, so I go the Zamorin and say that he might not control the trade, but he does control the harbour! He should simply forbid any ship leaving before we do, so the locals would be forced to sell to us as fast as possible. Brilliant, everyone wins, Christians 1, pagans 0!

The Zamorin looked out of the window (figure of speech) and changes the topic to a ship passing by that carried some elephants to Cochin. Turns out Zamorin loves elephants, and also happens to hate King of Cochin. I can read between the lines, wink wink. So, naturally, we go and capture the ship and elephants and bring it to the Zamorin. He is thrilled and agrees to our every wish, or that's at least what I got from it.

But it seems the local merchants don't heed much to Zamorins closure of departures, and load a ship with spices it tries to leave. Well we can't just look idly to such a provocation and insult to our honor and honor of Zamorin in direct contradiction to his orders to appease us. So we captured the vessel and took the spices. Also bashed some heads and burnt the ship. What else could we do?

But the locals, aggressive monsters as they were, didn't learn the lesson we tried to teach them. We had around seventy men in the city buying up the goods and other stuff, and the locals turned on them and attacked them en masse. Our heroes tried to get to the shore where we sent boats to pick them up, but only a handful managed to get out alive. Around 50 of the others died valiantly as brave martyrs as they were. Oh the horrors they received!

In the face of this brutal attack, we did the only thing left to us, we attacked and burnt every ship in the harbor, killing all on board, over five hundred of them. We then approached the city with our ships and bombarded it for some time, killing all we saw! Serves them right for engaging us! They all deserved this and brought this upon themselves!

But now, back in Portugal, some voices are whispering to the King that my orders were to sign a treaty with the Zamorin and I started a war instead, and that I should be considered guilty for this!

Obviously it's not true, but just to confirm, AITA?