"Vive Le Roi! Vive Le Empereur"

The Comte de Richemont walked the dark corridors of the royal palace at dawn easily, knowing
them well. The long hallways had the typical Gothic heavy air to them, and he almost found
himself wishing for a building like those that the Muslims were said to have. Never mind that, he
thought. He was here to try to change the course of France.

His feet knew the way, and he found himself thinking while he walked to the royal chamber,
thoughts of concern. They seemed the only kind of thought these dark days. He knew the English
ran roughshod through all of northern France, and Charles VI, king of France seemed not well
enough to deal with it.

Under Charles’ leadership, little was likely to happen, beyond more stalemate. Charles was...
insane. No way to avoid it, Charles was stark raving mad, and a weak king anyway. His
overbearing uncle, Philip III of Burgundy was too much of an influence, after all, France and
Burgundy were nominally at war.

Richemont was only 25, a young noble, but he felt he could influence the king sufficiently. He
knew that England had to be stopped, along with their marauding and pillaging of France. No
more would England dominate France. France was to be united.

He found himself at the door of the kings royal chamber. He knocked lightly. A servant opened
the door a crack.

“Is he well?” asked Richemont.

“Yes my lord,” the servant nervously answered, glancing back into the room, as if afraid that
Charles would convulse into a fit of insanity. No, Richemont thought. Not “as if”.

“May I see him?”

“Of course,” the servant answered, though it was anything but.

Charles sat in a chair. He looked ragged and disheveled, and his room was in disarray. Hardly
fit for the King of France, Richemont thought.

“My king, are you well enough to discuss some things?”

Charles looked at him for the first time. His eyes were shifting. It was clear he was insane. But he
still answered.

“Yes.”

“My lord, you know that we are at war with England. You know that we have suffered several
defeats.” Charles nodded at the understatement. “Sir, I believe this war is being poorly
conducted. I believe I can clear it up in far less time than we are doing. At this rate, all France
shall be accepting English sovereignty by 1450.

“Sir, this may sound pompous, but I would ask you to give me the reigns of the military. With the
proper hands in control, the English dogs will be driven out. We only need attack. Then you may
have the full kingdom.”

Charles eyes widened. The thought of actually ruling France in reality would be the dream of any
French king. The dream of driving out the English. Charles eyes widened again, and he had a
rational thought, a rare occurrence.

“To be free of England, to have a kingdom of France, if you could do this...”

“I believe I could.”

“Wonderful. But what would Isabeau say?”

Richemont saw that Charles was far too heavily influenced by his wife. Maybe some... accident
could happen to the Bavarian.

“You are king, my lord. It is your decision. You needn’t worry on what your wife shall say.”

“You are right!” Charles said, his face lighting up. “I am king! I hereby authorize you to
command the royal French forces, and I shall make the announcement tomorrow. But... I do
expect you to give me results in at least a year.”

“Of course my lord,” Richemont said, and bowed. He could hardly hide his joy. France could
finally be free.

Originally posted by Eochaid
Hello Snow King.

A nice start and a bright future for France. I look forward to reading some more.



PS: I spotted several spelling historical and French errors... May I help you with them?

Click to expand...

Sure, just go light. French history in the 1400s is not my forte, nor is the French language.

“What do you!?- Oh. It’s you,” said the Constable of France, and opened the door to his study.

“Yes, it is me, the pompous fool who thought he could do better that you, as you no doubt know
me as,” answered Richemont.

“Indeed. Well, it is yours. Let’s see you do better,” The ex-Constable of France answered, and
walked out the door.

Richemont sighed, and walked to the desk. It was in disarray. No wonder France’s leadership
was so poor. He set to straightening it. He happened to catch a glance of a map. On it were the
troop deployments, as best as the French scouts could make out. He stared. The English had an
army within a month’s march from Paris... That is, if they hadn’t started.

France’s situation was not good. Not only was there a major English army in Caux, but also
another large one in Gascogne. They almost outnumbered the French forces that flew the king’s
banner, though with the allies and vassals of France added in... Nevertheless, it seemed that
unless the English made some strategic error, they would win.

But the English, by all scout’s reports, were attacking merely Orleans. It would be too bad that
Orleans would have to go, but then again, that meant the province would be merely transferred
directly to the French crown in the peace. He began to draw up orders.

First of all, the English would have to be driven out of Normandy, which was not even officially
their’s. And to force them to submit, French forces would have to garrison Gascony, and possibly
invade England. It would be a long, hard fight.

He folded the envelops for the orders, and looked to the door, got up to open it, and found it
opened by a servant coming in.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Constable, I...”

“No, quite alright. You may take these, and have them find their way to the appropriate people,”
Richemont answered, trying to make sure the servant was not too frightened.

“Yes, my lord... And, er... Would you like some of this?” He held up a bottle of wine. “To
inaugurate your stay here, you see...”

“Why, thank you very much. That is most nice of you.” He took the bottle. “Good day to you.”

“At your service, my liege.”

He took the bottle, and found that the cork had already been popped. He slid it out easily, and
poured some of the red wine into a glass that the servant had provided. Drinking it, he marveled
in how smooth, sweet, and silky the wine was, easily sliding down his throat. He marveled at
how the Muslims of the south were able to keep away from the pleasures of wine.

He was, however, careful not to drink too much. I should keep a clear head in a war, he
thought, and set back to saving France.

Originally posted by Eochaid
Okay, just two things then:

• The title of this thread should be: "Vive le Roi! Vive l'Empereur"
  
• The name of the Queen of France is Isabeau, not Isabel.
  

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I don't think I can fix the first one, perhaps if a friendly moderator is reading...?

Second one is fixed.

Well, it might have been won nicely, but I got some nasty random events, so the war dragged on until the 1450's. I shall write up on my exploits soon... And now I know never to make the mistake of invading England without any reserve troops...

You'll see.

Oh, and thanks for all the nice comments.

A messenger burst through the door.

“Richemont! Wonderful news! The English dogs have gone for Orleans, just like we suspected!
And an English army was routed near Rouen! We are laying siege to the city, and may yet gain
control of all Caux!”

Richemont was about to smile... Then he saw what the man was also saying. Those English dogs
had a good saying for it: Reading between the lines.

“And... Orleans’ army?”

The messenger’s face fell. “All ten thousand killed, the Duke executed, and Orleans under siege.”

Richemont sighed a heavy sigh. The duchy was doomed, but then, ever since King Henry decided
to march for it, the city was doomed. Richemont had to admit, the English king was very skilled
in battle.

“Thank you for the news. You may go.”

The messenger walked out, considerably gloomier than he had been entering. Richemont himself
got up. He also walked out, down to the gates of the palace. He had considerable time to think
while he did this.

The English have gained Orleans. Orleans! Well, Caux should make up for it, and the much
larger manpower of France will soon tell. But oh, the lives lost, the lives ruined. Why did that
cursed English king ever have to invade France? Why did all the French generals have to be
incompetents?

France must resist, and I shall lead it, he thought firmly. And from now on, the nations of
Europe shall know France as the most powerful among them.

He reached the gates. “”Would you get me my horse, Jean?” he asked one of the servants, who
ran off.

A few minutes later he returned with Richemont’s horse. Mounting it easily, Richemont
squeezed the sides of his horse with his heels, and the horse trotted into the streets of Paris.

Paris was like any of the cities of his day. A confused clatter and hubbub rose from all sorts of
sources. The clip-clop of horse hooves, the shouts of children playing, dogs barking, the haggling
from the bazaar, the endless hubbub of people going about their daily lives, that was what made a
city a city.

Exiting the city gates, he ventured into the countryside, when a few men caught up with him.

“Richemont! Please, stop!” the lead rider shouted.

Richemont turned his horse to face them. “Yes?”

“There are English raiders, bandits. You can’t go on without an escort sir, please, we beg of
you.”

“Why, thank you,” Richemont said. He was not aware that they loved him so much.

As they rode on, the countryside was... different. How so? he thought. The countryside is
no different than it was a year ago... That was it, he realized. Coming to Paris but a few years
ago, it was much nicer. Now it had a pillaged look. That English army in Orleans did worse
than I thought it did.

Oh, well. Just one more reason to drive them out.

Note: In the last section, I mistakenly called the city Le Mans. Please understand that I really
meant Rouen.

***

Chapter I: For God, King, and Country - The campaigns of
Richemont.

Richemont, atop his lofty perch on his white horse, saw riders galloping towards him. He was
about to draw his sword, when he saw they wore blue cloaks. Seeing him and his company, they
reigned in the horses, and called to him.

“Greetings, our constable! The Armèe du Roi has been diverted to Picardie! We have suffered a
defeat by those treacherous English dogs! You would do best to go there.”

“Thank you... And what would you be doing here?” he asked, suspiciously.

“We... We.....”

“Deserters?”

“And if we are? What are you going to do about it?” they asked, challengingly.

“You are deserters. Scum of the French army. Will you redeem yourself by rejoining the army, or
will you face me?”

Richemont drew his sword as he asked this, and met their eyes with a steely gaze. The men
hesitated, and fell into Richemont’s column, much subdued. His eyes followed the path.

“At that crossroads up ahead, we turn east. The road should take us to the Picardie road, and the
Armèe du Roi.”

He led off with his steed, and the band of soldiers followed.

* * *

If anyone is still reading this, let it be known I will not be writing beyond the hundred years war, due to some VERY stupid mistakes by the player. Like supporting the Hugonauts.

Originally posted by Arilou
What's so bad about that?

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Let's just say with the new added strength of rebels, combined with a 7% revoltrisk in the majority of my provinces, a string of bad random events kind of made France no more fun to play. Especially after my treasury was 1/7 of its former size (down 6000d), and my armies declined from the hundreds of thousands to about 50,000, all tied down by rebellions all over France.