This article is accurate for the latest versions of EU3, Napoleon’s Ambition, In Nomine, Heir to the Throne and Divine Wind.
Dynastic events[1] are events that revolve around the succession of monarchies. They were introduced with Heir to the throne.
Carnal sins
Could her lips be any redder? Doubtful. Hollow, in the back of your mind, echo the cautioning words of priests and preachers. Is this what the sermons spoke of? The Devil in a woman's body, and the temptations of the flesh? Strange. As devils go, this one looks a lot like an angel. Either way, you'll have to bring this up in your confession on sunday. | |||||||
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Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.:
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Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.:
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A beloved heir dies
A strange fever has claimed the life of your beloved heir, $HEIR$. As the court sheds its clothes for blacker garments, it strikes you what a frail and transient thing life can be. Just as your thoughts are about to turn to the eternal, a young maid catches your eye... | |||||||
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In the arms of the Lord, I find solace.:
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In the arms of the maid, I find solace.:
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Palace coup
Father, $HEIR_S_PRONOUN$ says, $HEIR_ADJ$ sword pointing at you. 'Your rule has brought this nation to the brink of destruction, and shame to our family.' $HEIR_CAP_S_PRONOUN$ looks nervously at $HEIR_ADJ$ co-conspirators. An other-worldly sense of fatigue washes over you. Betrayal in your own midst?' | |||||||
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I feel so old...:
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You spoiled little runt!:
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The weeping song
The war has taken a heavy toll upon the mothers and wives of your nation, and as you pass this ragged old widow where she sits, her face buried deep in her palmed hands, your heir asks: 'Oh Father, why are all the women weeping?' | |||||||
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They are all weeping for their men...:
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They are merely crying, son.: |
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A silent spring
She giggles. - 'Your majesty...', she says. You look at her. Her beauty is unmatched in your realm, and even in realms beyond yours. You say nothing. Spring is in the air, and as you lean in toward her, with the intoxicating scent of her perfume painfully present, a thought crosses your mind... | |||||||
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Cute girl...:
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Bargaining chip...:
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Soirée
The chandeliers blaze shadows and light across the grand ball room of your palace, and the music of a hundred dancing violins fills the air. 'Your Majesty!', 'Your Excellency!', 'My $MONARCHTITLE$!', the foreign guests and local dignitaries greet you. Everywhere is conversation, laughter, discussion, and the breathing, pulsating rhythm of life. Your eyes gaze across the assembled myriads. Who should you talk to tonight?' | |||||||
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Good evening, My Lady!:
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Good evening, My Good Sir!:
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Comment: The mtth modifier is alsways true with the current trigger conditions. Perhaps the values for cultural tradition should be exchanged between trigger conditions and mtth modifier.
Heir falls ill
Your heir, $HEIR$, breathes heavily. $HEIR_CAP_S_PRONOUN$ has been lying in bed for three days now, and reflected in the beads of sweat on $HEIR_ADJ$ forehead is the fear in your eyes for $HEIR_ADJ$ life. $HEIR_CAP_S_PRONOUN$ might not make it through the night unless you do something. | |||||||
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Send for a trained Medicus.:
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Pray for $HEIR_ADJ$ life.:
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A child in the reeds
Suddenly something startles the animal and, before you have time to fire, it is long gone. You look around you. The water in the small creek reflects the sunlight of a perfect day, and the reeds wave slowly before a light breeze. Is that laughter? You realise now what had startled the animal. In a cradle, floating among the reeds, lies a laughing little boy. Judging by his smile, you'd say that he has never known fear in his life. | |||||||
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Adopt him as your own.:
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Where did that deer go?:
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Jousting tournament
The proud banners of our nation flutter in the wind, and gilded trumpets blow four blast salutes, honoring our equestrian elites. The air is filled with the smells of roasted almonds, horses and intrigue. Our cultural and military prominence are truly boons to our nation, and nowhere is this fact more real than here today. How do you wish to spend your day at the tournament? | |||||||
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Watch your heir joust.:
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Brag about our cultural accomplishments.:
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Simply enjoy the day.:
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Hunting accident
$HEIR_CAP_ADJ$ body has been draped, by whom you do not know, in a white cloth now stained red by $HEIR_ADJ$ lost vitae. They say $HEIR_S_PRONOUN$ was found by $HEIR_ADJ$ horse, in a clearing in the woods. You know the place they speak of. $HEIR_CAP_ADJ$ face is calm, almost serene. You reach out to touch $HEIR_O_PRONOUN$. The terrible reality of the situation dawns on you. The cold you feel is that of death. | |||||||
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Sorrow overtakes you.:
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Oh well...: |
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Family secret?
The first time you brush it off, but when it happens a second and a third time, you do begin to wonder. Why are people laughing at you when they think you can't hear them? After you've asked around, for more than a bit, you finally manage to get an answer out of a chamber maid. It appears that your heir has been running about town in a most unchristian fashion, and that your family is now becoming the laughing stock of Europe. | |||||||
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Scold $HEIR_O_PRONOUN$ publicly.:
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...so?:
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Scheming bureaucracy
Seizing power? Certainly not. This is simply a normal assumption of the executive office, as laid out in form 32B, on the administration of the Kingdom, whitepaper 48:53-D, on the transfer of power under certain circumstances, as modified by protective clauses 3, 8 and 12b, law 48-9 and edict 3W-4. What is there not to understand? Your majesty has signed all of them. | |||||||
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Kill them. All.:
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Well... yes... Yes this does seem to be all in good order.:
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Regent usurps the throne
The $HEIR_DYNASTY$s have been nothing but bad news ever since they ascended to the throne. If you were to ask me, and I think you should, these good times are nothing but a sign, from almighty God himself, that my regency holds divine favor. With God on my side, I shall, therefore, assume the throne for myself. Good Night, Sweet Prince.' | |||||||
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Alas, it was destined.:
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To the salt mines, traitor!:
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Lux Stella
The thread of fate is fickle, and balances on the razor's edge between the sublime and the eternal. Fickle, are the vagaries of destiny. Jupiter ascendant, and the moon is in the seventh house. Who he is, I do not know, but the stars foretell that a man born to a royal house on this day, shall one day be the ruler of a mighty kingdom.' Thus the astrologer spoke. Today, the Queen gave birth to a child. | |||||||
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I shall name him Alexander:
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His name shall be Caesar:
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Marriage policies pay off
Sire! Sire!' the herald doesn't even attempt to hide his excitment. 'Great news!'. 'A son of our family is next in line to a foreign throne!' | |||||||
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Take that, von Habsburgs.:
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The $DYNASTY$s
... meanwhile, in another country, a different branch of the $DYNASTY$ family is in dire straits. With their country destabilized, they now struggle to cling on to power. If we do not help them now, their situation might worsen significantly. What is the best course of action? | |||||||
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Family first, brother.:
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I already gave at the office, brother.:
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Comment: The country specified by the trigger and the country specified by the options must not be the same country.
The $DYNASTY$s
Our family in $FROMCOUNTRY$ have sent us aid in this troubled time. | |||||||
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The $DYNASTY$s stick together.: |
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The $DYNASTY$s
Our kith and kin, our own flesh and blood, in $FROMCOUNTRY$ have declared that they have no intention of coming to our aid in this our time of trouble. May God have mercy on their souls. | |||||||
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A house divided cannot stand.: |
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The aftermath
"'$LASTWAR$ was an abject failure, and you know it!', the anger in your heir's voice is unmistakable. True, mistakes were made during $LASTWAR$, but all of them were hardly yours. Besides, $HEIRNAME$ also commanded troops. 'I believe it is time for you to retire, father."" The audacity..." | |||||||
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I accept responsisbility: | I will not be met with insolence in my own house!:
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$COUNTRY_ADJ$ moon
The garden in $PROVINCENAME$ is bathed in the cool light of a full moon. Turning a corner to come across this sight was not what you had expected, but here it is. Before you stands a monument to $RANDOM_OLD_WAR$. The beauty lies not in the exquisite marble, or even in the craftsmanship of the thing, but in the fact that even now, many years later, the monument is still strewn with thousands and thousands of fresh flowers. Here, in $PROVINCENAME$, if nowhere else, the memory of $RANDOM_OLD_WAR$, and the memories of the fallen, still lives. | |||||||
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May the memory live on:
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Our sorrow proves the justness of our cause.:
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Seeing the real you
She turns around. She looks at you. - 'Have you prayed lately, $MONARCH$?' The question underscores the distance between you that, for the past year, has been growing. - 'I think you should. I do. Almost every night.' You laugh. For all her human flaws she is still your wife. She draws closer, the hint of a smile spreading across her face. - 'What are you laughing at, $MONARCH$'? | |||||||
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I just realized how much you mean to me.:
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The economy is doing laughably good! Haha!:
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Event chain: Fear and loathing
Fear and loathing in $PROVINCENAME$
Twilight is always the worst. The clouds racing circles across moonless skies, cruel stars suspended like grains of broken glass, and chandeliers throwing strange shadows across the Royal Chambers. Lately, a strange sense has come upon you that there is something wrong with the place. The geometry of it seems... unsound. Thinking back... it all started with the birth of $HEIR$. | |||||||
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All work and no play, makes $MONARCH$ a dull, dull boy.:
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Lord God our Father, thou who art in heaven!:
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The discovery
My $MONARCHTITLE$...' you sense instantly that there is something wrong. There is something in his voice, right below the surface. Hidden contempt, and fear. '...the new brick wall in the eastern cellar. It wasn't built for insulation, was it?' You remember it clearly now. How small the body felt. Carrying it down into the damp cellar, laying the bricks. It made you sick. Sick to the core. Killing your progeny wasn't the catharsis you had expected it to be. For an instant, the flashing glimpse of an insight blows across your mind... | |||||||
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What have I done!?:
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Heeere's $MONARCH$!: |
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Dance macabre
The Royal Chamber is a swirling mist of scents and shapes, coming and going into and out of existance like colorful snowflakes. You are hungry. So very hungry. As if you hadn't eaten in months. The stars looking down on you, still suspended in a moonless sky, laugh and dance. They seem free, and wild. There is something about those stars. They seem so... right. You have gone quite insane | |||||||
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Not by the hair of my chiny-chin-chin!:
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I'd give my god-damned soul for just a glass of beer.:
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Our monarch dies
Our monarch has died, and considering the strange things he was saying toward the end of his life, perhaps it is for the better. | |||||||
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God bless his soul:
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Event chain: Wedding bells
Wedding bells
Sire...', again he interrupts you, his furrowed brow telling tall tales of concern and sleepless nights. '... the succession does not secure itself, your majesty...' On he goes. This dusty old study, and your advisor's dry voice resonating of boredom and wasted potential, accentuates the brightness of the clear day outside. '...which is why it is of vital importance that...' - Doesn't he ever stop? 'In nature', you find yourself saying in interruption. 'the first step, leading an animal into the grave, is always procreation.' You're not sure if you believe it, only that there is nothing in his voice to convince you that marriage is preferable to the promise of a clear sky. | |||||||
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Nevermind. Nature always finds its course.:
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Chess on the veranda?:
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A modest proposal
While it is not uncommon among a certain type of young men to wish to remain outside the inevitable bonds of wedlock, the bonds are inevitable nevertheless. Looking out from your eagle's perch, you have spotted prey. The ruler of this foreign country has for a long time been postponing his marriage, and his trone lacks a secure succession. This might be the perfect time to form a dynastic bond between our countries. Should we dispatch an embassy to try to marry one of our dynasty's young girls into this foreign royal house? | |||||||
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Indeed we shall!:
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We have better things to do.:
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A rose from a foreign land
The ruler of $FROMCOUNTRY$ has sent you a painting, depicting a young girl in his court. Her eyes are green, her hair is black, and your eyes are drawn to the painting as if to a vacuum. A cunning smile find its way to your advisor's face. The noise of the room dies down. You do not know how long you stand there looking. She is beautiful. | |||||||
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I must have her!:
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What is this foul witchcraft? Begone!: |
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A thorn from a foreign land
While the poor quality of the painting might explain away some of it, the fact remains that The Creator was not being overly generous when he endowed this girl with her looks. The ruler of $FROMCOUNTRY$ has offered her hand in marriage, and you are not sure if you should laugh or feel insulted. Then again, there is the succession to consider. | |||||||
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A good $COUNTRY_RELIGION$ woman, I'm sure.:
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This will obviously not do: |
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