Conseil du Royaume

[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.