The frosted grass crackled under the wheel of the carriage as the envoy continued their journey. Princess Cecilia, daughter of the crown, pulled back the curtain and looked out into the German countryside. Mountains, snow, and mountains. The only movement was her carriage and honor guard, the captain of which walked alongside her carriage and raised his bow in salute as he noticed her gaze.
“Captain Hood, how long?”
He smiled back up at her “Oh, we've a good day's journey ahead of us m'lady”.
Cecilia thanked him unhappily and withdrew her head. This journey was taking far too long, but she resolved herself not to frown. It wasn't befitting England's first emissary to the Holy Roman Empire.
As they passed through the city gates and came to a halt, Cecilia took another glimpse through her window. A small crowd had gathered, and captain Hood was conversing in German with a man on horseback.
Cecilia turned to Emlin, her lady-in-waiting. “Is that him?”
Emlin peered past Cecilia “Ooh, that certainly does look like him.”
Cecilia took another look. Dietrich von Saxony, one of the rising stars among the German princes. She abruptly drew the curtain back to cover the window as he looked up at her, immediately chiding herself as she did so.
'Don't be nervous, you have a job to do.
“On behalf of my lord, I thank you”
“I'm glad tae see ya finally saw sense”
Simon smiled graciously at the Scottish prince. “I apologize my lord, we meant no offense, we merely felt it too early to engage in any binding treaties.”
Prince Edward looked down upon the kneeling English diplomat. He slowly smiled. “Ye came around in the end, that's all that matters”
Prince Robert paced with a wild fervor. Damn his brother. Taking another city, and now news came that he had signed a trade agreement with the Scottish rabble to the north. Robert had to do something monumental, and soon, before his brother retook the holy land or something and doomed him to eternal obscurity.
'A target, a target. But what? A smile slowly overtook Robert's face. Once again he called for his horse. He knew just the place.
“He shouldn't be going. Henry needs to stay here, where he can be looked after.”
“Nonsense” was William's reply to his eldest son's objections. “He's of age, he shall come with me as I take up arms! I will bring glory to England once again, and he will be at my side as I do so.”
Prince Rufus looked back at his youngest brother. The young man dressed in an immaculately clean military coat with a sword hanging at his hip, but the image was ruined by his nervous glances, jumpiness, and occasional mumbling. That boy wasn't right in the head.
“Please father, he can't go to war”
The king snorted, “If he doesn't finally prove himself a man in battle, perhaps I will send him home, but for now he leaves with me.”
The Conqueror picked up his pace, leaving Rufus behind. As Prince Henry hurried to catch up, Rufus caught a bit of his mumblings: “The dead will rise, must prepare, must ready. The day is coming.”
Not right in the head.
“My lord, the Parisians seem to be readying to march”
Prince Robert looked up, startled. It had only been two weeks since his armies had arrived on King Philip's doorstep.
'They can't be starving already, there's no reason to launch an attack. Unless...Robert's advisors jumped as he burst into activity. “Tell the troops to break camp. I need scouts sent out at once, every direction. He's got reinforcements coming, I want to know from where.”
Minutes later, a rider entered the war tent bearing ill news. Almost 400 fresh men, coming in from the south. The prince turned to his maps, contemplating for a few moments before indicating a hill a short march south-east of their position.
“Here, if we can get there before the reinforcements do, we will have a strong position. Hopefully we can repel them before King Philip arrives, then it's the simple task of destroying his smaller force.”
“March!”
They arrived just in time. As his men finished filing into place they saw the enemy banners emerging through the trees. The enemy archers began to move up, still far out of range.
Well, out of their range. England had its own longbows now.
The French charged, but the uphill battle, deadly hail of shafts, and flanking cavalry soon halted their momentum, and soon their broken force charged back down the hill as quickly as they had charged up.
Now his men turned to face the new threat, King Philip, arriving right on time.
They made the same mistake as the last army had.
With their crossbows decimated, King Philip's army had no support as the English bore down upon him. It was hopeless, he knew it, his men knew it, and the English knew it. In a last act of defiance, his spearmen threw themselves on the approaching wave of red, giving their liege a few more seconds to escape. He used them.
King Philip pushed his horse like never before, his knights rode around him like a shield. He cursed, the mighty king of France, heir of Charlemagne reduced to this. Then he heard the clash of steel on steel. All around him, horsemen in red and horsemen in blue clashed even as they rode at full gallop. The English had caught up. His knights valiantly protected him, but one Englishman managed to slip past them and was alongside Philip in a flash. The king saw his assailant's blonde hair, bloodied clothes, and wicked grin as the Englishman's sword rose and fell, slicing past him and cleaving into his steed. Philip's horse dropped like a stone, and the king fell with it. The last sight he saw before his vision faded to black was the blonde man's triumphant devil smile.
King Philip slowly came to, but the rush of pain made him wish he hadn't. He sincerely believed there wasn't a bone in his body that wasn't broken. Slowly he opened his eyes. The devil looked down upon him.
“You're Prince Robert aren't you”
The man smiled his devilish grin. “Yes, yes I am.”
“Mercy”
The prince paused for a moment, then rammed his sword into the once-king's chest. “No”.
”I'm walkin' on sunshine"Game mechanics time: Chivalry and DreadChivalry and dread are two sides of the same coin, and both have their merits. Noble acts, like releasing prisoners and not looting captured cities raise chivalry. Chivalry (especially in a king) boosts our reputation and gives other small bonuses, like easier access to some units. Evil acts, like slaughtering prisoners and sacking cities raises dread, which can be used to demoralize opposing armies before they even fight you. It also worsens our reputation and makes people hate us.
Our faction heir (Prince Rufus) has been doing good things in his battles, and has gained Chivalry. If you can't guess, Robert (the spare) is a dreadful dreadful person.
“Captain Hood, tell your men to move out” said King William's newest son, “ we have a long ride ahead of us.”
Prince Robert was enjoying the good life. Sitting in the halls of Philip's palace in Paris, sipping the finest French wines, not listening to papal decrees. Well, that last one was wishful thinking.
Game mechanics time: Le PopeGreat, first turn of the war and we already get an intervention. The pope often tries to stop wars between catholic nations with these things, and the consequences can be quite serious. We can probably get away with it this time, but anything more to displease the pope will likely end with our excommunication, which is happy fun time for all. Fun for us, because we have massive unrest and other catholic nations hate us, fun for everyone else because they might get a crusade against us.
So, do we stop and recuperate for 7 turns, preparing to strike as soon as we can, or do we ignore the pope?
Also: Do we go with Tedd B's idea for a treaty with Spain?
Also, thought you might be interested in our current status:
Overall second, that's pretty impressive. And no, declaring war on the Byzantines is nowhere near feasible at this point.