A young man enters the Conseil. He is slight of build but bears a determined look in his eyes. He bows to the throne and then speaks with a somewhat high voice in contrast to his warlike words.

I am gladdened that the Germans have foolishly refused our latest peace offer. Seneschal de Champagne offered them much more than that, very generous terms, and they still refused.

So let the fools come. Those bastards burned out my family when I was 15, and I've yet to fully repay them. We should make the Empire a desert and then call that peace.

So if blood must be shed, so be it, but we should not offer even one more florin of tribute.