A Song of Ice and Blood

Bruges, 1084

Prologue

The snow had fallen all day, leaving a white carpet above the landscape that muffled all sounds and glinted in the moonlight, casting an eerie radiance. Only under the horses’ hooves was it turned into a brown sludge.

Word had finally come today that van Donkkers and Fevre had together managed to have men in their employ manning the gates, allowing the French army of Philippe to enter the city almost unhindered. Artois still had his men patrolling the walls and streets of the city but surprise should work against them.

Philippe turned in his saddle and considered the men following him. Beside his own men drawn from the garrison of Paris, he had five knights of the Order of the Fleur de Lys with their retinues and two companies of mercenaries that he had recruited on the way and armed with crossbows. None of the nobles had fought under his command before and he thought he had to strengthen their resolve through a brief speech.




“It is not my way to send men into needless peril when in battle. If I ask something, it is necessary. I do not expect more of you than I would ask of myself, mes bons vassaux. I expect only victory here if all of us do our parts when the time comes. I think you all know my quality, as I know yours, mes seigneurs. We are not here to dance a pavane … We are here for the grim business of war. It is never a pretty thing, but I will make sure it is our foes who do any dying that is needed. All I ask is that you fight… Like Frenchmen! Our foes are rebel and traitors, and deserve nothing but the edge of a blade upon their necks. And a sword is a merciful end to them, for they should face the gallows. And think on this: I am a well-read man. I have wrangled, conjugated, ciphered, accounted, studied and yet, yet… There is still simple enjoyment to be had from slaughtering the enemies of France. (OOC: quoted from the in-game pre-battle speech)

“Now, to our battle plans… Neufville, Montferrat you’ll go to the East Gate with the militia crossbowmen. Neufville, you’ll be in charge of that flank. … Le Sueur, Mauvoisin, you’ll both go the West Gate with the archers. Le Sueur, you’re in charge. Wait for the signal. Rethel, you’ll stay with me and the main body of the men. We’ll go in from the south.”




Once the other knights had walked enough distance to be out of earshot, Philippe led his horse towards Gaetan de Rethel. “You’ll act as reinforcements, de Rethel. I don’t want any heroics on your part… I know how you feel for the mess of the siege but I won’t have you sacrifice yourself to prove your valour… which you may still have a chance to prove today.”



Once everyone had taken up their positions, all that remained was for Aubry Fevre to send the signal.


The players:




The Battle:



As soon as the signal was given, both Le Sueur and de Neufville kicked their horses into a fast pace racing for their respective gates, their respective deputies following in their wake. Seeing their generals’ advance, the archers and crossbowmen ran to the walls with their ladders.




Le Sueur was the first in the city, quickly followed by de Neufville.




The latter witnessing the retreating leader of the garrison gave chase up to the town square where he engaged the enemy general. Only the approach a large group of men with pointy sticks caused him to retreat.



Taking profit of the fact that the rebel pikemen were retreating from the South Gate, Philippe gave his men the order to charge and cut them off from the main square, completely obliterating them.




Crossbowmen ran after the king intent on saving their fellows only to be met by another royal charge…




… while their fellow crossbowmen ran out of the square, hoping to nail a few bolts into the French knights accompanying de Neufville.



…but only to get skewered by French lances.




Only a charge by the rebel general broke the impetus of de Neufville and his men who retreated towards the East Gate. The general spurred his mount after de Neufville….



…realizing only too late that he had been caught in an elaborate trap when Montferrat and his men closed on his back.



The fight had by then gone out of him. Gaspard beheaded him with a swift stroke of his sword.



The remaining pikemen ran to the rescue of their master, but arrived too late and were decimated by the bolts of the crossbow militia perched above the East Gate.



At the same time, Le Sueur and Mauvoisin were busy evading another group of armoured sergeants, luring them away from the walls where the archers had taken place, thanks to their ladders. Fire arrows began to rain down on the unsuspecting sergeants.



Under the deluge of fire they finally broke, in time to be overrun by Le Sueur, Mauvoisin and their men.



The remaining rebel knights tried to make a break for it out of the South Gate but on reaching the gates, the forbidding presence of de Rethel and his knights turned them back and they tried to get back to the relative safety of the square, while the mercenary crossbowmen peppered them with bolts.




Following the carnage that had raked the main square, de Neufville managed to reach it and try to defend it against the remnant of the rebel army, but the overpowering odor of blood and charred corpses forced him to retreat.



The last few defenders tried to make a last stand on the square, while arrows went on raining upon them.



As a last show of mercy, Philippe ordered a stop to the missile fire and charged, followed by all the Order knights but for de Rethel, too far to witness anything of the fight and too late to come and bloody his sword.



While the last defenders bit the dust, the French knights celebrated their victory and their King with cries of “Montjoie Saint-Denis!!” And “Vive le Roi!!”


The score


(OOC : Occupy is selected here...)

Epilogue

Comfortably installed in a well furbished room of the richest inn in Bruges, overlooking one of the many canals of the city, Philippe was alternatively watching people gliding on the ice on implements he had never seen before and reading a letter from van Donkkers requesting an audience when a soft knock on the door announced the entry of a servant in full royal livery.

“Le Sieur Arnaud de Vilaines would like to be granted an audience with Sa Majesté.”

“De Vilaines ?” Philippe was at a loss. The name meant nothing to him.

“Let him in”.

A man in his middle years walked in the room. He wore a rather common suit or armour, with several dents in it showing it had seen use recently.

He bowed low, one hand on his scabbard, where the sword was missing, an unnecessary precaution in Philippe’s mind but one on which his captain of the Guard was adamant.

“Stand and speak, de Vilaines.”

The man rose slowly and began speaking.

“Votre Majesté, you may think me presumptuous and I will admit that it may be so but I will humbly ask for your daughter Constance’s hand in marriage. I have served for many years in her bodyguard and being near her for so long, though it was arduous duty, nervously speaking, knowing how good she was at escaping our vigilance, I have to come to appreciate the Princess and think I could bring her everything she might want in a husband…”

Sensing the King about to object, Arnaud went on in a rush. “I know my station is not high enough but I have served Your Majesty faithfully and loyally for many years and expect to do so for many more years. I also know that an English lord has besotted himself with Your Majesty’s daughter and would like to remind him of propriety, as a husband should do for his espouse. As your son-in-law, you can expect me to fight for France like I did today, joining the fray wherever you lead, Mon Roi.”

Seemingly having reached the end of his tirade, Philippe considered the man before him.

“As you stated yourself, your station is not high enough for me to give you my daughter’s hand… And frankly, I may be doing you a service in refusing… Constance is sometimes so strong-willed that I fear that should you marry her, you’ll end up staying at home while she rides your charger into battle, wearing your armour.”

The man nodded dejectedly, having expected such an answer.

“Nevertheless, coming here and asking for her hand requires courage… The dents in your armour show that you were deeply involved in the last battle and can handle yourself in battle… Your loyalty is also unquestionable if you managed to remain in her bodyguard for so long… I have a few men of my retinue in the battle… How would you like a position in my bodyguard? As a shield-bearer ?”

The man dropped to one knee.

“You do me great honour, Mon Roi. I will gladly accept. And maybe, you’ll take notice of my service and would reconsider your position on the marriage…”

“Do not expect too much, De Vilaines… But who knows?”

“Thank you, Mon Roi” The man said, bowing his head.

“You may go, de Vilaines… Present yourself to the captain of my guard, he will assign you rooms and servants”

De Vilaines retreated from the room, leaving Philippe to contemplate the people having fun outside on the canals and thinking about the deal he had struck with van Donkkers.