Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM

[_Tristan_]

Paris is burning ?

Paris, 1370




Smoke was rising from over the walls of Paris, sure signs of the depredations that the French were committing... Once a few years back, Hughes had already been the witness of such depredations when out of daring he rode with his retainers alone to snatch Paris from the French’s grasp...

Now the French were exacting vengeance on the loyal Germans still inhabiting the town... On their way south, Hughes and his men had crossed the path of many refugees fleeing the city, horror written on their faces by the unholy acts they had witnessed... They spoke of black masses celebrated in churches, of black robed men taking virgin girls out of their homes never to be seen again...

Hughes was and felt in his heart that he was a Crusader of old... One of those men that took up the Cross in the firm belief that they were doing so for the good of Christendom, to protect it from the forces of evil...

Now he will be Crusader, he would march on Angers but first Paris had to be freed from the Satanic minions of King Emery... His nemesis, the mind behind Roger de Mauchaut’s destruction of Hughes’ Order... de Mauchaut who now would be forever out of reach of Hughes, having been tried for heresy by Inquisitor Simon de Calce and now forever burning in the fires of Hell...

Not far from where Hughes stood on his comtemplating the city before him, he could see the camp of Captain Ehrart where plague was rumored to be still present.

Hughes had one of his crossbowmen come forward and hand him one of his bolts. He scribbled a message on a piece of parchment then rolled and tied it the to shaft of the bolt before giving it back to the crossbowman.

“Fire it towards the camp over there... Make it land the nearest you can to the command tent...”

The man cranked the bow of his weapon, took aim and let fly... Hughes followed the bolt as long as he could, the message stating that Ehrart and his men were under strict orders not to approach his on camp or enter the city... Soon after, a flag was raised and waved in the plagued camp, acknowledging the order.

******

Hughes set the bombard crew to destroying the gates of the city, Merowinger having been sent west towards Caen and gather intelligence on King Emery’s whereabouts.

A few well places shots quickly destroyed the reinforced gates.

Hughes sent his crossbowmen forward to secure the walls, providing fire support while he rode with his bodyguards and the mercenary knights to take position into side streets, awaiting the French charge that was sure to come.

Sure enough, some pavise crossbowmen came running at the gate, the men on the walls letting loose at them while Hughes spurrd his horse forward.

Soon enough, caught between the two units of cavalry and peppered with bolts from above, the men were cut down.

A few footknights tried to came to the help of their fellows, but it was already too late and they met with the full charge of Hughes’ cavalry.

All that remained was a unit of sergeants guarding another of the city gates. Hughes knew that fighting in close quarter in those streets would mean the death of too many of his men so he drove his men on the parvis of Notre-Dame, intent on baiting the French to come onto the open plaza.

Soon enough, the sergeants seeing the opportunity to get rid of knights in shiny armor, they came in a rush to chase Hughes and his men from the place.

Hughes had them right where he wanted them… He left the parvis, seeing that his crossbowmen and arquebusiers had taken position on the other side of the plaza and were firing on the assembled sergeants, striking them down.

The sergeants seeing the trap close on them ran to the other side of the parvis, intent on killing as many of the riders as they could and putting as much distance as possible between them and the shooters.

Only a few of them reached the other side of the plaza.

Hughes and his men drove them back to the plaza at lance point to finish them in front of God’s house, so that He may witness the work accomplished in His name this day.

******

Hughes entered the Cathedral, fearing what he would discover…

Guillaume was at his side and having taken a few steps into the darkness of the vaulted building, lit only by a few smoky sconces, he ran outside, the sound of dry retching reaching Hughes.

“Pour l’amour de Dieu…” was all that Hughes could say.

That most holy of places has been completely desecrated, the figure of Christ turned upside down over the altar. Many unreadable scribbling had been painted on the walls…

Hughes made his way through the overturned pews to the altar, falling on his knees when he saw how it had been used by the vermin that had occupied the city.

A brown coat of caked blood completely covered the altar, a strong ferrous reek still emanating from it.

A sudden noise made Hughes leap to his feet, sword in hand. Dropping his helm to the ground, he made his way to one of the aisles where a confessional was built against the wall of the cathedral. Leaning against the wooden partition, Hughes could hear a whizzing breathing noise inside.

Tearing the drapes aside, he drove his gauntleted hand at face level, hearing a satisfying bone-crushing smack. Closing his fist on what he identified as a throat, he pulled the man out of his hiding place.

It was a rather young and pale-faced fellow, almost toothless, his nose bleeding from where Hughes’ fist had connected with his head. The man was dressed in some farcical clerical robes, robes that had surely belonged to a true priest before being appropriated by this cultist. Dried blood was splattered all over the robes turning them from their original white to a dark brown.

The man shivered, his hands closed on Hughes’ wrist trying to release the pressure around his throat. His bulging eyes finally noticed the red cross on Hughes’ tabard.

“A thousand curses be upon you, Templar”, the man croaked “Our King has destroyed your Order… You won’t be able to hinder the coming of the Lord… Our Gods will come and destroy yours… Their fires will cleanse the World of your kind…”

Tightening his grip around the man’s throat, silencing him, Hughes asked him the question that had been burning his mind for so long.

“Speaking of your King, where can I find him? I wish to pay my respects to him… Tell me and I might let you live…”

A flash of joy briefly passed in the man’s eyes, seeing a way out of his predicament. He nodded, unable to speak, his windpipe crushed in Hughes’ hand.

Releasing him a bit, Hughes waited for him to speak.

“King Emery… Yes, you wish to find him… I can tell you… Will you truly let me go, then?”

“Yes, I’ll release you…”

“You will find him in Caen… He is preparing our Lord’s arrival, praised be His name… The Ritual is almost complete, Our Lord and his allies will soon walk among us… You will bow or be destroyed…” the man finished his sentence almost chanting.

Hughes threw the man down towards the doors of the Cathedral where Guillaume, the old Templar seemed to cry softly. Kicking the cultist all the way to the doors to prod him onwards, Hughes thought about the man’s revelations.

The man finally emerged into the light where Guillaume caught him by the cowl of his robes.

Turning to Hughes who strode out of the Cathedral, the man cried.
“You promised you would release me…”

With a flick of his finger, Hughes signaled Guillaume to let go of the man.

A wide grin spread across the man’s face.

“Our Lord will welcome you and forgive you your sins, He…”

A swift stroke of Hughes’ sword Vengeance cut the man short, his head severed from his shoulder falling to his feet, blood gushing from his neck and running in rivulets down the steps of the Cathedral…

“I said I would release you… I have released you from this world…” Hughes spat at the cultist corpse.