The Youngest Prince Of The English Royalty House [EN]: Chapter 117

Sacco di Paris (1)

The atmosphere turned icy, as if a cold wind had swept through.

I had just delivered what I thought was a magnificent speech, blending my ancestor Rollo with a famous quote from Henri IV, who converted from Protestantism to Catholicism to become King of France: “Paris is well worth a mass.” But the reaction was so underwhelming that I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me, and I quickly realized I had misspoke.

My distant ancestor, the Viking Rollo, for reasons I won’t delve into, married a Frankish princess and ultimately became a renowned general who protected Paris from Viking raids, defending the Frankish kingdom.

In other words, I had been reveling in the thought of thoroughly plundering Paris, leading troops with that very intention, and I had inadvertently insulted my ancestor.

‘But showing it would ruin the image of being a safe zone for the great nobles.’

Without betraying any awkwardness, I once again raised my greatsword with a flourish and declared:

“Sacco di Paris!”

Sacco di Paris, literally meaning ‘sack of Paris’ [a historical term for the plundering of a city], represents the ultimate intention to plunder Paris.

I was now stating, unequivocally, that my will was to sack Paris without question.

This, I thought, would resonate far more than making ambiguous insults towards Rollo, who ended up as a guardian of the Frankish kingdom in his later years.

“Sacco di Paris!”

“Long live Prince John!”

“Let’s avenge ourselves on France!”

As expected, my call to thoroughly pillage Paris was welcomed by both commanders and soldiers.

Looting in pre-modern times is a creative economy.

I, as their lord, had set the stage for a grand ‘plunder,’ targeting the detestable people of Philippe, not the territories of fellow Englishmen.

Naturally, my Black Lion Army had high expectations, especially since Paris had more to plunder than other territories.

Moreover, many were eager to thoroughly ransack the lands of those meddling Frenchmen who had interfered in our domestic squabbles.

At that moment, a dignified commander approached me and called out,

“Your Highness.”

“Ak Bulhui, what is it?”

“Your Highness, the weather is pleasant.”

While others were salivating at the prospect of plunder, Ak Bulhui, ever the Confucian scholar, maintained a noble facade.

“Systematic looting in such fine weather wouldn’t be so bad, like the Westerners do.”

It’s not like the Han Chinese didn’t loot either. The refined Han Chinese of the Song Dynasty also plundered other ethnic groups under the guise of ‘Northern Expeditions.’

However, knowing what Ak Bulhui meant, I smiled and spoke to him in a more relaxed tone,

“You’re trying to become a Westerner yourself.”

Ak Bulhui seemed pleased that I had lowered my tone and replied,

“While I am not, my son, who bears the limitations of being mixed-race, must be recognized as a Westerner.”

“The life of a foreigner is never easy.”

Perhaps I, who was reborn with the memories of my past life intact, am also a foreigner?

Anyway, after putting on this grand display, I looked up at the sky. The weather was clear, perfect for looting.

Come to think of it, most of my commanders and I were descendants of Vikings. Of course, given the nature of European royal and noble families, the blood of Vikings, Germans, and Latins was already mixed like a stew, so there was no need to pretend to be a single ethnicity.

After all, the most important thing about lineage is having impressive ancestors, isn’t it?

Originally, the most splendid ancestor is the most successful one.

“Charge!”

Philippe II wasn’t stupid; he must have known we would counterattack France.

A resentful-looking Frenchman on the walls looked at me and said in a petty tone,

“Prince John, why? Why do you torment us?”

I saw someone unexpectedly blaming us, England, as the aggressors.

Baron Montmorency was a nobleman under Philippe and someone I had briefly met during the Crusades.

This is the tragedy of war.

‘If that man is the defense commander Philippe prepared….’

I was surprised. It gave me much to think about.

To think that a capable man like Baron Montmorency was defending the French kingdom.

Of course, one shouldn’t underestimate a baron. In mass-produced novels, barons are often depicted as poor nobles on their last legs, but in actual history, there were hardly any men worrying about their livelihood. Moreover, the barons of this era, living at the end of the 12th century, were the king’s personal guard, with a loud voice and considerable power.

And Baron Montmorency was one of the most capable commanders among them, valued by Philippe for his abilities, not his lineage.

However, I decided not to overthink this unexpected situation.

As long as the nobles of the Low Countries [a historical region comprising the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg] remained neutral, there would be no major variables. And France’s elite forces were already struggling to hold back Richard and the Earl of Oxford’s armies.

‘Montmorency, the army under that man’s command might inflict some casualties on our corps, but they can’t stop my forces with such tactics.’

Moreover, compared to other armies, my troops had many experienced soldiers among the Irish-Mortain mercenaries.

There were even indomitable warriors who had fought alongside me in suppressing the Mortain rebellion and participating in the Crusades.

Besides, he’s no Vauban [Sébastien Le Prestre de Vauban, a famous military engineer], the master of ‘universal defense’ from the era of Louis XIV. This should be easy enough.

“Considering the strength of our forces, they are merely sacrifices.”

Godfrey, standing next to me, looked at the enemy’s fortress with pity.

A dense, tall fortress, well-prepared in many ways.

And the resolute will of the defense commander Montmorency in that castle was palpable.

But that was all.

“We will launch the assault the day after tomorrow. Let the soldiers rest in the meantime. They can’t leave the castle walls, so there won’t be any night raids.”

“We will maintain strict vigilance, just in case.”

* * *

—French Kingdom, Yvelines—

“Prince John won’t attack today.”

“Is that so?”

Although he pretended to be relaxed in front of Prince John, Baron Montmorency, who was single-handedly defending this area, was in a foul mood for several reasons.

‘What glory am I seeking by becoming a close aide to the king?’

Even though Safe Zone, who knew the future history very well, personally defined ‘that Philippe as a harmful Philippe!’ the people of the French kingdom loved their monarch.

Philippe II changed the title of the king from the elected ‘King of the Franks’ to the centralized ‘King of France.’ He was a great monarch who cared about the welfare of the people at least as much as his own power, implementing good policies.

But his obsession with John was the problem.

In the past, when Philippe didn’t know the danger of John, he viewed John merely as someone who wanted attention in the future, like a YouTuber. But Prince John had already become a world hero and a cunning prince to his adversaries, hadn’t he?

At this point, Philippe II thought that the way for the French kingdom to survive was to control England before it grew any larger, which led him to interfere in other people’s family squabbles.

Of course, that would have been fine, but…

[Protect the French kingdom]

Baron Montmorency himself became the commander ordered to defend against the possible invasion of the Low Country lords.

To be precise, it was a dumping of responsibilities.

Among the nobles favored by Philippe II, this was the first time he had been given a position with neither honor nor practical benefit.

Instead of the Aquitaine region, where he could have achieved real great feats, he was ordered to quietly prepare for variables in Paris.

Wasn’t this too much for a vassal who had been loyal for so long?

‘Should I switch sides to pro-Safe Zone at this opportunity?’

It was an open secret that there were nobles in the French kingdom who had received kickbacks from Safe Zone. Of course, what those nobles were pursuing was neutrality, not actual treason for John’s sake, so it seemed okay to join that line.

Of course, the leisure time to think about this was not long.

The next day, the Black Lion Army began the siege.

“The enemies are coming.”

—Thud, thud.

A large stone flew over.

“Waaaaaah!”

“Long live Henry II, long live England!”

The Black Lion Army’s shouts were heard closer than before. It was an absolutely unpleasant and annoying shout.

Baron Montmorency was annoyed.

“Haa….”

“They’re coming.”

“Your Excellency, the enemy’s forces are too numerous.”

“I was already prepared for that.”

Yes, he knew it well.

It wasn’t just about the state of training; they couldn’t be matched in numbers either. The only advantage they had now was that they could rely on the castle walls to conduct a solid defense.

The situation would clearly become more unfavorable in the future.

But even so, they had to endure.

That was what they had to do as Frenchmen, descendants of the great Franks, to fight back!

“Hold out as long as possible. Until our reinforcements arrive!”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

What he could do right now as a commander was not to counterattack but to hold out. To block Prince John as much as possible until other nobles or Philippe II came to the rescue.

But he knew best that the fight would not be easy and that he would eventually have to retreat to maintain his forces.

At that time.

“Your Excellency, a letter from His Majesty King Philippe II.”

A liaison officer delivered a letter sent urgently by the King of France, and Baron Montmorency sighed as he read it.

“Haa… Our King….”

* * *

“All of John’s Bow’s giant arrows have been used up.”

“It can’t be helped.”

John’s Bow wasn’t an all-purpose siege weapon that automatically collapsed the walls just by throwing it. [John’s Bow is likely a powerful, custom-built siege engine.]

As much as it cost a huge amount of wealth, its limitations came quickly.

“Then use the catapults.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

If there was no John’s Bow, they could use catapults. It couldn’t be helped, but if there were no teeth, they had to use their gums!

“The enemies are retreating.”

“We have gained another castle.”

‘The resistance is fierce, but it’s eventually being pushed back as expected.’

They had completely destroyed the fortresses in the western region of Île-de-France.

It wasn’t a thrilling victory. The difference in strength between the French kingdom’s defense forces and our Black Lion Army under my command was noticeable.

In the first place, if I didn’t ‘win,’ I was an incompetent commander, and even if I won, I had to check how much the forces were lost. If there were many losses, I was a fool.

“Wow, Prince John. I feel really good.”

“Thinking of making a fortune?”

“Don’t the Parisian friends have a lot of gold?”

“The enemies are retreating. Shall we pursue?”

—Doo-doo-doo.

The Irish Iron Cavalry was running.

Although it hadn’t been formed for long, it had already experienced several actual battles and now professionally drowned the enemies.

“You are really amazing. To think that this kind of advance is possible.”

Although our England was so strong that the French kingdom was ridiculed as ‘East France’ to me.

The French kingdom was strong as it had been a strongman in Western Europe for a long time.

In fact, I liked France.

In my previous life, my mother was French.

In my previous life, I was a mixed-race person who loved the history of France very much.

Of course, very unfortunately, because I was born as a prince of the successful Angevin dynasty of England in the 12th century, the ‘Capet’ dynasty was excluded from the France I loved.

* * *

—French Kingdom, outskirts of Paris—

To be honest, I felt sorry for Baron Montmorency. He was a lonely commander guarding the troubled seas of Joseon alone. [Joseon refers to Korea; the analogy suggests a difficult and isolated defensive position.]

In Chinese history, he was like Wu Sangui, a lonely general of the late Ming Dynasty guarding Shanhaiguan alone? [Wu Sangui was a Chinese general who played a key role in the transition from the Ming to the Qing dynasty.]

However, Baron Montmorency was really pitiful.

This was the same as the surrounding lords standing by.

“Don’t kill people, just let them loot appropriately. We don’t need slaves anyway.”

If too many slaves were secured, the economy would collapse just by that.

So we slowly advanced towards Paris, looting in kind. The French commanders defending our forces in the Île-de-France region surrounding Paris held out quite well.

But he was pushed back again and again.

He was probably waiting for reinforcements from the southern nobles, but Paris would already be destroyed by the time the reinforcements arrived.

“Your Highness, Paris is right there in front of us.”

Just as I was about to go on a Paris gourmet tour.

“Your Highness, a new army has suddenly appeared.”

“And it’s right in our vicinity.”

No, there shouldn’t be any forces coming? Our proud Richard must be grinding them all down?

But I soon advanced closer to the opposing forces and realized that the new corps was a kind of mercenary.

“Who are you to interfere with my advance?”

“Michael’s Knight. Galgano Guidotti. You cannot pass beyond this point.”

The knight in heavy armor said those words and lowered his helmet.

If it were the future, he could start as a Hollywood actor right away. He had a very handsome appearance, and I thought.

‘It’s not like the Italian friends pick knights based on looks.’

He was truly like seeing a model of a middle-aged man. There were traces of time on his forehead, but he was just handsome.

By the way, he called himself Galgano in Latin mixed with an Italian accent? It’s a name that I seem to know?

“Who is that man?”

“Your Highness, he was active on the Egyptian front, but he is a middle-aged knight who was active in the Persian region.”

“Wait… Galgano… It’s a name I think I heard on Surprise on Sunday morning?” [Surprise on Sunday Morning is likely a reference to a television show that features unusual or historical stories.]

After thinking and thinking again, I.

Tried to recall it in my mind. It was because Galgano seemed like a name I had heard somewhere.

‘Ah!’

This guy was a noble knight who received the revelation of the Archangel Michael, who could be said to be Joan of Arc’s senior, according to his own account.

‘This has become really annoying.’

Philippe II is really crazy. To invite an Italian knight as the last card to protect Paris. Have the French forgotten their honor?

Philippe doesn’t know people’s hearts!