Two men open the doors to the chambers. One is in his late forties, stocky and calm looking the other is younger..perhaps 30…tall and lean, his armour, for they both wear full plate armour, appear to hang from his frame rather than fit him correctly. His eyes dart about the hall as they enter. They are followed by Prince Henri, eyes reddened and face dark. He too wears his battle armour, battered and tarnished but carries a breastplate. He enters to the centre of the hall and throws the breastplate to the ground for all to see, it has clearly been punctured with small square holes

Henri speaks with a quiver in his voice.

This is the armour of Duc Thomas Saint-Amande of Lorraine. His body was foully pierced by crossbow bolts. He died fighting the Germans he hated, their army is now destroyed its…survivors…Henri glares at the older of the two knights with him…have retreated to Nuremburg and now cower in its walls.

I bring the counsiel nearly 5,000 florins in “tribute” from the German Kaiser. Let me say now that no amount would be enough to pay for the offence Lorraine has been given by these men to our East and they will rue the day they dared to strike at us.

I had retreated, we waited within our own borders and I almost believed that after the trade of Nuremburg that the Germans would allow peace to develop…but no, they decided that they would STILL prefer war and outside Frankfurt we met them with what militia forces we had at our disposal.

By the skill of the Duc, we were victorious that day though half our number lay dead on the field…1,500 Germans lay rotting outside the walls of Frankfurt!

I ask the counsiel and the Seneschal my father for the coin to replenish our losses ((OOC: Retrain)) and permission to pursue the war these Germans clearly wish to continue.

Henri sits with a slump on the Duc’s old chair, flanked by his men