The Youngest Prince Of The English Royalty House [EN]: Chapter 110

110. Bonjour, Brittany (2)

King John’s Irish fleet was wreaking havoc on Brittany’s Second Fleet. At that very moment, Geoffrey was experiencing a strange and vivid dream the night before.

Unlike his usual dreams, this one was so intense and realistic that it frightened him.

In the dream, Prince Henry was already dead. He and Prince Richard were engaged in a brutal civil war, a head-to-head battle for supremacy.

But as Geoffrey watched the dream unfold, he realized that he wasn’t the protagonist; it was John. In the dream, John was fighting against Prince Richard and met his end in an assassination disguised as a fall from a horse.

Since it was just a dream, he didn’t intend to accept his death that way.

However, the events following his death in the dream painted a grim picture. It was a cascade of terrible developments.

The dream continued, focusing on Prince John. In this dream, the youngest John was a spoiled child, constantly whining, ‘Do it for me!’ ‘Help me!’ to his father and brother.

‘How can that be John?’

Considering that the ‘Safe John’ in reality was a formidable figure whom even he considered dangerous, the dream’s portrayal was infuriating.

The John in the dream was so pathetic that he seemed like a completely different person, a complete idiot compared to the John he had been wary of. This perception didn’t change even as the dream progressed and John became king after Richard.

‘King John,’ who betrayed his father Henry II and his brother Richard to ascend the throne, was repeatedly defeated by Philip II in petty squabbles, betrayed by his own subordinates, and forced to sign the ‘Magna Carta’ [a charter of rights agreed to by King John of England at Runnymede, near Windsor, on 15 June 1215], becoming miserable in countless ways.

Among those who cooperated with Philip II and betrayed Prince John, Peter and Godfrey were also present.

Even Amiard, a French knight serving as John’s administrator, looked at King John with contempt from Philip II’s side.

But dreams were just dreams.

Reality was far different. Especially the pathetic King John he saw in the dream.

Compared to that weakling, his younger brother and arch-rival standing before him was a terrifying presence.

Starting with Mortain, he had attempted several schemes, but all of them had failed despite his best efforts.

Moreover, after sending agents into Ireland, he tried to undermine the security of Prince John’s territory, but that too had failed.

Geoffrey suspected that it was probably due to the efforts of his capable aide, Godfrey (whose name meant Geoffrey in French), who shared his name.

If subtlety didn’t work, he would have to resort to more extreme measures.

In this era, fratricide was taboo, but secret assassinations were somewhat tolerated. After all, couldn’t they just claim he died of an unfortunate illness or fell from a horse?

So, he attempted to assassinate him in utmost secrecy, but even that secretly failed.

‘It’s all because of that senile mother’s interference.’

It was all because of that damned mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine.

He couldn’t understand why she held a grudge against her sons simply because she was exiled for failing to consider political dynamics.

Besides, she had always favored Prince Richard, so why was she suddenly craving affection from her children now?

Wouldn’t it have been better if she had been captured by Islamic pirates in the Mediterranean? Or become a hero who died from an arrow?

…Geoffrey was filled with various regrets.

‘Perhaps this dream means I’m still underestimating you, John.’

After briefly recalling the dream he had seen, Prince Geoffrey turned his gaze to the bloody battlefield.

It was time to assess the war with a commander’s broad perspective.

Unfortunately, the White Lion Army wasn’t dominating this battlefield because Prince John had prepared so thoroughly.

“To even armor the horses. John must have a lot of money. And… the morale is high too.”

“Your Highness, the Black Lion Army’s offensive is formidable.”

“It wasn’t just Prince Richard’s army that was strong.”

As the two commanders reported, Geoffrey realized the truth.

“We… must admit that we were too arrogant.”

Prince Geoffrey smiled faintly.

He acknowledged that Prince John’s forces were strong, but that didn’t mean the outcome was decided.

At that moment, arrows rained down on Prince Geoffrey’s camp.

“Defend!”

They raised large pavise shields [a large, movable shield used by infantry in the 14th-16th centuries] to block the arrows.

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

Prince Geoffrey replied with a calm face to the White Lion Army knight.

“I’m fine.”

“To create so many pure horn bow units that require such skill. Did John make his people do nothing but hunt?”

The pure horn bows were a significant threat. It wasn’t just the longbowmen who posed a danger to John’s current forces.

Geoffrey looked up and observed John’s confidence on the battlefield.

“To form a line… mainly with infantry.”

In this era of knights, an infantry-focused formation was considered foolish. But the John in front of him wasn’t a useless person like the John in the dream; he was a dangerous rival, ‘Safe John’.

‘That’s not all.’

Prince John’s new weapon, possessing the capabilities of both a dagger and an axe.

―Klang.

The Black Lion infantry wielding it were cutting down the light cavalry.

Moreover, the moment the Black Lion infantry maintained their lines with the new weapon, heavy cavalry like knights shattered the enemy’s formation.

But the White Lion Army wasn’t simply being defeated. They also had something they believed in.

Prince Geoffrey stared at the Irish lord’s flag in the distance with sharp eyes, focusing on the prince.

And he reaffirmed his resolve.

‘I have to do it fiercely. Without being careless.’

Fiercely.

There could be no playing around. Now that he had raised an army, there was no turning back.

He had no choice but to fight for life and death.

“Earl of Chester.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“They should be here soon. Why are they so late?”

With those words, Prince Geoffrey looked around.

Even amidst the fierce battle, he could see his brother’s phalanx formation [a body of troops in close array].

Once again, he took note of the ‘newness’ that Prince John had created.

The new weapon called a halberd [a combined spear and battle-axe].

And the traps that were hard to spot with the naked eye.

Differentiation to cavalry boots.

Mounted armor and never-before-seen plate armor.

Unlike the incompetent and petty John in the dream.

The John in reality was indeed his eternal rival.

“Do not worry, they are at ease. However, Prince John’s skills are genuine.”

The Earl of Chester wore a bitter expression.

The fact that he had endured Geoffrey and William Marshal’s offensive in the Manche wasn’t just due to Prince Richard’s aura, but Prince John’s skill.

But the White Lion Army camp was gritting their teeth and denying this, claiming that Prince John was just lucky. But a person’s skill is determined on the battlefield.

* * *

―Prince John’s Camp―

‘As expected, Geoffrey is strong.’

Like the saying that a great war in the Middle Ages is a series of close combat battles.

Geoffrey’s skilled troops were not easy to deal with. Even when horses wearing plate armor appeared in our army to knock down the enemy’s knights.

He deployed countless traps to lure the enemies.

But, contrary to expectations, the White Lion Army was holding out well.

But I was confident. Not unfounded confidence, but solid confidence. Why did England win the Hundred Years’ War [a series of conflicts waged from 1337 to 1453 between the Kingdom of England and the Kingdom of France], except for a few cases like Du Guesclin and Joan of Arc? It was because the Kingdom of France was too arrogant.

Geoffrey was too arrogant. He probably never thought that I would occupy Brittany.

And if the price is the same, wouldn’t the side that prepared more be more advantageous?

‘This time, it won’t be easy.’

I know my role.

The reason Richard entrusted me with the entire Brittany region was to have me handle Geoffrey.

The best defense is offense.

If so, I have to do it properly.

“Earl of Scotland.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“It’s time to move the Angevins in the Scottish region.”

I didn’t refer to them as Scots.

They were just Angevins born in the Scottish region.

“Robin.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Prepare Angevin crossbowmen and longbowmen to escort them.”

Brave highlanders came out. They were also Angevins.

After the Scottish rebellion failed, I told Henry II that we should show leniency to everyone except a few ringleaders.

At that time, I was able to recruit troops from Scotland, and now they are needed.

They charged with claymores [a large Scottish sword], supported by longbowmen.

The knights, who were heavy cavalry, defended against this force’s offensive.

Infantry with halberds assisted those knights, neutralizing the enemy’s mounted spears.

As everyone’s attention turned upward.

“Evil Bully Society. It’s your turn.”

―Doo doo doo doo.

“Deploy the mercenary troops.”

Then the mercenary troops.

“Aim for the White Lion Army’s central formation (main camp).”

Before I knew it, my mercenary troops were.

The Trinity.

The Genoese mercenary corps that always exists for faith, hope, and trust.

As the top-tier ranged mercenaries of this era, their crossbowmen were the fastest.

And my sister-in-law Claire’s mercenary corps.

As descendants of the Vikings, they were skilled in charge tactics.

Lastly.

The Habsburg mercenary corps.

They created a human fence using long spears to fix the battle line.

For those three types of mercenaries, the penal troops began to pull the sword carts and wagons.

“Waaaaa!”

A new formation was completed.

Dangerous John.

* * *

The White Lion Army, feeling disadvantaged, retreated.

But I know that it is a temporary retreat and a lure.

“There’s an ambush.”

Godfrey replied to my words.

“That’s right. This is an ambush. But we have occupied Brest. We must defend our lines here and prepare for a new fight.”

But a few hours later. Reinforcements came to Geoffrey.

There was the flag of the Duchy of Burgundy, the French Second Company.

“Waaaaa!”

“Defeat the Black Lion Army.”

“Your Highness, it’s the Burgundy army.”

I knew.

There is a reason for everything in the world, and sudden variables must be traced back to their cause.

I was not naive enough to think that so many Burgundy troops had come to support Brittany at this time purely by coincidence.

“Philip has begun to interfere.”

* * *

―Holy Roman Empire, Aachen―

While Prince John and Prince Geoffrey were fighting fiercely.

The old Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I was annoyed.

It was a terrible moment because his vassals didn’t listen to him, and his children had become a burden to their father.

The red-bearded emperor said.

“Damn it, how many times have I said that we must stop France from recovering its lost territories? But are you just going to stand by and help France?”

But even in such annoyance, the Crown Prince replied nonchalantly.

“Isn’t it natural to stop England? Surely, Your Majesty isn’t going to let this opportunity pass by quietly thanks to Prince John?”

“You unfilial bastard.”

“What if I’m an unfilial bastard? Still, I didn’t start a rebellion like those nasty Angevins.”

Frederick I, looking at his arrogant and foolish heir who was sneering at him, felt like his blood was boiling. But God was merciful, and he didn’t have a heart attack or get sick from anger.

“You don’t know anything!”

“What is it that I don’t know? Your Majesty?”

In his youth, Frederick I, who had lived in the same era as monsters like the deceased Louis VII and Manuel I, as well as the truly ambitious Henry II, knew.

That Henry II was clearly setting up a grand strategy in the Angevin territory.

‘That Henry II is definitely pretending to be collapsing.’

Even without concrete evidence, he could tell. If Henry II hadn’t died, he would be the decision-maker who would end this civil war in a different way, just like he had stopped the previous great rebellion.

But no one seemed to have anticipated that fact. They had already expressed confidence that Henry II would lie in bed and become a living justification after the princes’ civil war was over.

‘Henry II, what are you doing!’

The dying Emperor Frederick knew the heart of the prophet. Why doesn’t anyone know Henry II’s plot?