At the dawn of the fourteenth century, the Kingdom of Hungary lay fractured—its ancient crown contested not by one sovereign will, but by rival claimants and war-hardened magnates who ruled their provinces like private realms. The death of Andrew III had left the throne exposed, and two young kings clawed at it from opposite sides of Europe. One was Wenceslaus III, heir of the Přemyslid line, crowned in Székesfehérvár and styled Ladislaus by Hungarian charter, yet dependent on shifting loyalties and the fading authority of his house. The other was Charles I of Hungary, the Angevin prince backed by papal favor and Neapolitan ambition, patient and relentless in his claim. Between them stretched a kingdom in pieces—barons enthroned in their own fortresses, bishops weighing allegiance like coin, and a crown that no single hand could yet firmly grasp.

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