Conseil du Royaume

[Braden]

Shocked at being approached directly by a King the Herald is taken a-back but listens carefully before bowing and responding

Of course my King, you have my word on my life this will be done. I am certain that my Lord will be more than happy to hear from you and to respond with kindness and loyalty.

[Ramses II CP]

Prince Louis, dressed for travel, enters the chamber and announces in an angry tone,

I commanded the mercenary fleet under my control to drive back the English ships and restore the blockade of Iberia, but they have failed and withdrawn with half their number lost. I suggest that the remainder be...

A black look of fury momentarily descends across the Prince's face before he masters himself and turns it into a grim jest,

Well, I suggest that the bloody fools be executed, but I suppose releasing them from their contract will have to do (OOC: Disband them if you like Seneschal). They're useless now, I've no need to sail anywhere and they obviously can't fight. With the blockade thrown down and unknown quantities of Moors still marauding through Portugal and Spain I am faced with the choice of withdrawing my army or proceeding ahead of plans with a siege. I have decided to go on the offensive. The last small Moorish armies in the Cordoba region have been cleared away and now siegeworks are being prepared outside the city.

I fully expect large armies to be moving north out of Africa in support of our foe so I pray that the siege can be completed quickly. Mon Roi I vow I will not make the same error I did at Bern; our main camp lies across the river from Cordoba and none shall take the bridge by surprise. The Moors have shown themselves to be cowards thus far, I fully expect them to huddle down within the walls and beg their infidel god to save them.

I will pray for brother Henri! Good fortune men of France!

With a casual bow Louis departs the chamber.

[Tamur]

Barthelemy de Soissons enters the chamber, clumsily climbs to an outer seat, and sits. He listens for a few minutes, then when silence descends on the Conseil he stands in place.

The state of the Royaume could not be better, my good sirs. Just look around us!

The Germans, those beer-guzzling puddingheads, are no match for us on the field of battle. The infidel Moors play hide and run with Louis. The English and the vikings... *Barthelemy clears his throat and spits downward, then winces and shakes his right leg for a moment* ...mere nagflies.

With all this going well, what could be wrong? Why are our King and his sons at such odds?

*Barthelemy pauses and jingles a coin purse noisily.*

The royal treasury, my friends. That is the problem.

Our people pay their fair share of taxes. But we need gold. Only then will le Royaume be at peace, and the family we hold so dear can forget their troubles over land and position, with all else secured by a full and overflowing treasury.

So, let our armies go forth against the Germans and the heathens! Let us sack their cities, sell everything, and leave them desolate! Tens of thousands will flow into the treasury, and all our troubles will be forgotten as if they melted away like a dream.

Barthelemy sits and belches.

[_Tristan_]

A man richly clad in black walks into the Conseil. Those who have known him have trouble recognizing Arnaud de Vilaines, King Philippe’s shieldbearer and aide de camp such is the look of anguish upon his face. Bowing before the Speaker, he hands him a rolled parchment with a hand that is visibly shaking.

The Speaker slowly unrolls the parchment and starts reading it, his face blanching the furthest he reads. Having finished his reading, he lays down the parchment on his desk, grabs the goblet of wine lying on a side table and drinks it in one gulp, bringing colour back to his cheeks. He then stands, awkwardly, his legs seeming to barely sustain him and starts reading.

“From King Philippe, Par la Grâce de Dieu, Roi des Francs,

To his loyal and faithful subjects, either noble or lowly-born,

I am writing this as the light of my life wanes by the minute. Though I lay in bed, I do not suffer for I am not sick… It simply seems that God has judged that my time on this wretched Earth has been spent.

Do not mourn me, my faithful subjects… Though I am sad to leave you and not be able to see most of you a last time before I leave, I rejoice in the idea that I will finally be reunited with my beloved Bertrade and so many of our fine warriors fallen on the field through the years.

As I said, do not mourn me, for I have lived a full life… Full of battles, full of success… I have fulfilled most of my dreams for the Royaume… When I came to the throne, our Royaume was divided, our lands held by English hands.

Now, we have reclaimed those lands and have even brought war to the English Isles, making them our home away from home.

We fought hard, my subjects, but now we can finally rest and marvel at our own accomplishments : our Royaume extends to the confines of Germany, Iberia has been re-conquered from the Moors through our agency…

Still, I would not have been content had I left a kingdom at war for my sons to rule. Hence, these last few months our diplomats on my urgings have appealed to the rulers of our neighboring kingdoms and I am glad that my sons will perhaps be able to finally know peace in their lives.

A ceasefire has been obtained with the Reich. It cost us Granada, which may have been lost to us through the riots and 10000 florins. Through our relationships remain strained with the latest Kaiser, his men-at-arms have almost all left our lands or are about to do so. The German presence in Iberia will serve as a bulwark against further Moorish incursions and will perhaps bring back faith in God for these lost souls. Perhaps have they been forced into this hard-earned truce by the threat of being taken between the Russian anvil and our French hammer ? For we have successfully obtained an alliance with the Csar. Our diplomat came to the Novgorod court with gifts to the amount of 3000 florins. Most of the gold has been smelted for the Russian war effort in their war against Poland. This is a matter my sons will have to consider in the near future.

The Pope has finally been reached by our diplomat and got a better reception by his Holiness than he had by his minions. We’re now allied to the Holy See, though we’ve had to offer alms to St Peter’s cathedrals for 1000 florins. Our leadership of Catholicism cannot now be contested.

As planned, Edinburgh has been surrendered to the Scots, our new found allies, but only after its military capability had been greatly reduced. I have been forced to sail back from the Highlands to Northumbria and it is upon my landing that this unsustainable tiredness fell upon me.
Unaware of my condition, the English have come to Nottingham ( OOC : Frankfurt in fact) with an offer for a ceasefire. They must have sensed that the tide of fortune was clearly against them and wished to retain their last holding on their island. We’ve bled them of 20500 florins and trade rights in exchange for our mercy.

Now, only the Danes and the Moors remain at war with us. Though the Viking will forever remain a threat due to their far-reaching naval invasions, the Moors have been pushed back to the sands Africa, where they belong…

So, for the first time in years I can look upon my Royaume and see it as a Royaume at peace. This is the gift I make to you, Louis my son…

For now, it is my time for me to lay down the burden of the crown and deposit this burden upon your head.

My son, you’ve always served the Royaume as a true knight of France, fighting here and yonder. Now, may well be the time for you to lay down your sword and administer your heritage.

Work with your brothers Henri and Charles and not against them… Do not repeat the errors of Charlemagne’s heirs… Keep the Royaume whole and nothing will stand in your way… Divide it and my ghost will come to haunt you…

Now I will lay down my quill for my forces are leaving me…

Be strong, knights of France… Be proud…

Be…”

The Speaker stops in midsentence.

‘There is no more, mes Seigneurs…” he says, beckoning de Vilaines to step forward.

Arnaud de Vilaines obeys and bows before the assembly.

“Mes Seigneurs, our noble King Philippe died a week ago in Nottingham. He asked me to bring this letter to you as soon as it was finished. It never was… “

Now turning to the empty seat of the Dauphin Louis, Arnaud continues.

“A messenger has been dispatched posthaste to his Royal Highness Louis to bring him the terrible news. In the meantime, let me be the first to say “Le Roi est Mort !! Vive le Roi !! Vive le Roi Louis !!”

[Braden]

Henri looks to stand but clearly cannot, all colour has left his cheeks and a visible tear is in his eye. Steeling himself it manages to stand, just, and looks to his retainers. A cup of wine is given him, each retainer also garners a similar one. Henri raises his cup…

I pray my father, our King, greatest of any to have been gifted to our nation, finds a welcome embrace with my mother.

To his memory I say I know him as Philip the Builder, Philip the Unifier for we are now a unified nation under God. Also to this I now know him as Philip the Peaceful.

Peace has been attained! I thank and honour my fathers memory with that…what better lasting legacy could a man provide than security for his family? None I say, and to have done so without draining the Kingdoms funds at all…is another legacy of prudent management.

I say I also know him as Philip the Father and I loved him as a son should.

Hail Philip, King! God welcomes you!

Henri raises his cup and drinks…the call “God welcomes you!” is taken by Henri’s retainers and they also drink. Henri turns to Louis and raises his cup once more.

Hail Louis, King! May God guide you!

again, the ritual is repeated amongst the men of Lorraine but now empty the cups are raised high and thrown to the ground to smash into a multitude of pottery shards, then Henri bows to Louis before speaking again.

Brother and King, I salute you. Your fearlessness in combat is legendary and rightly so. I bow to thee as loyal subject and Prince.

[Tamur]

Barthelemy de Soissons dabs his eyes with a handkerchief, then waits for more noble persons than himself to say important things.

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Huh.. This is .. unexpected...

Hail the new King.. and stuff.. I guess..

Charles, who entered just before the messenger, sighs and turns to leave seeing that there is nothing more for him to do in the Conceil...