Ireland.
King John rode his horse trough the scenic countryside near Shaftsburry. The road had been decorated with piles of dead and mutilated Welsh and Irish - truly a pleasure for the senses. The king had a large grin on his face as he opened a medallion where his father and brother's miniature portraits greeted him. King John the Bastard - avenger of the now severed British Royal bloodline.
"Ah, the smell of dead celts in the morning is... invigorating! So Llywelyn is hiding in that fort?" the King pointed with his mail clad glove and spat.
"Indeed sire, he is."
"Prepare the rack, tomorrow night we will have a Welsh King for a guest."
John's laugh echoed and made two ravens raise their heads in curiosity, before continuing with their feast.
OOC: Both Llywelyn and the Irish king Brian were defeated in combat! They can't move next turn, and Llywelyn is besieged. Unless a miracle happens he should be finally dead next turn. BTW I was offered a second Swordsmith's guild so it's no loss after all.
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