The Grand Duchy of the West - A Valois-Burgundian TL
- Thread starter BlueFlowwer
- Start date
I did plan for him to get screwed over already in my old A Richard for all seasons tl back in 2017, so I am recycling that part.
Damn it, not again! Thank you anyways, it is fun to write Burgundy getting wrecked for a change.It appears that John II of Lorraine has returned somehowAnyway brilliant chapter
Somehow John II (Palpatine) has returned. We love screwing over our favourite nations in our TLs such fun and chaos yk
Why should there be anti Burgundian sentiments allong the Rhine? These cities and towns benefit tremendous from trade with the Low countires.
The winter campaign of France taken Burgundy by suprice should create a reaction. One of this leasson learned , by the Duke should be the creation of a standing army oof professional soldiers in stead of hap ahzard mercenaries or pressed peasants. At least to have sizable force ready at any time to defend the realm.
It is first quarter of the 16th cnetury, in OTL the first Tercio's were established around this period. The Duke of Burgundy could be adviced to establish something simmilar as the Tercio's.
How dare you subject my poor eyes to that horrible meme 😭
I think it was more that Burgundy attempted to control those cities for themselves that caused the riots. Throw in a mix of independence and grasping neighbour as well.
They do have somewhat of a standing army as well. But right now they were unprepared for invasion in the middle of winter and bad condition near the borders did not help. They are gonna get their feet back soon so don't worry.
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The winter campaign should take it's toll on the French mob troops as well, despite chirugians and supplies. By the time of Spring normaly armies of this size, and in this time period, are melted away, due to sickness, looting ''accidents'', desertion, since the mob took its looting share. The shortages were at the end of winter and start of spring the most critical. The winter suplies are depleted while the food and fodder on the field are just starting to grow.
Yes I know, but France got a stroke of luck in that campaign. And the destruction of the border cities were also to send a strong message while preventing them from entering Champagne while France took it back for themselves.
She is pretty fierce! I bet Lorraine was all like, "well the prince is fighting in Picardy so we have no problem going to war now!" And then Isabel went "FIRE THE CANNONS" at them.
Chapter 55 - England from 1528 to 1529
Chapter 55 – England from 1528 to 1529
The Sweating Sickness came back to England with devastating force nearly fifty years after it first appeared in 1480. The first cases struck the port cities in the beginning of October, and from there they spread like Greek fire. The plague creep up the Thames later during the month, causing fear and riots in the capital as the chilly and damp weather aided it, and both rich and poor died like mayflies. Richard and Catherine fled Westminster for Windsor Castle, but that did not stop the king from taking ill, even if he made a decent recovery weeks later. The Princess of Wales would not be as lucky. Anne of Brittany had been recently churched and she refused to abandon her baby daughter despite her husband’s urging that they leave Eltham. The princess limited her public appearances to avoid becoming infected, but the sickness still sneaked into her household, where it struck like an invisible serpent. Little Katherine became ill on the 14th of November and Anne nursed her diligently as a tiny baby cried endlessly as fever racked her small body. It was a miracle that the fever broke in the end, and while Katherine would live, her mother died instead. Anne succumbed on the 3rd of December, knowing that her darling daughter would survive. Her death broke Prince Richard completely and had John not interfered at the very last second, he would have succeeded in throwing himself out the window in grief, as Richmond had to use all his considerable strength to wrestle him away from the sharp edges of broken glass scattered in glistering colours along the windowsill and floor. In the scuffle the prince ended up with a dozen scars along his hands, arms, shoulder and neck, staining his and John’s clothes with blood as Richard’s bereaved howls echoed for all to hear. The king was devastated by the news, especially as his heir seemed to have lost his mind from sorrow and he ordered the prince confined to his chamber under strict supervision. Catherine was also prevented from leaving Windsor by her husband, as he was terrified that she too would be struck by the plague.
The sweating sickness also slowed down the english on the continent. Richard had sent aid to Brabant in the fighting in Picardy due to the region being near Calais and should the French take Picardy, then the last Plantagenet foothold would certainly be lost. But the chaos of the port cities near the channel made shipments of soldiers far harder and French sailors took advantage of it to attack English vessels.
The Christmas celebrations in the Yorkist court were non-existent, as the court was scattered and grieving. The king fell ill once more in the middle of December, sending all into a great panic at the prospect of a possible mad king, but fortunately he recovered as the year of 1529 begun, much to great relief. In the middle of all this madness, John became the centre of stability. While no one would ever accuse the Duke of Richmond of being a warm and cheerful person, he maintained order, as rioters and looters were harshly punished or executed and that won him great admiration amongst many.
It was in the middle of a mass being conducted on the day of Epiphany before the diminished court that John saw a familiar face again. A flash of chestnut hair entered the corner of his vision, a waft of rosemary came to him; suddenly his fairy maiden stood before his very eyes. Her green garments were gone, like many she had dressed in black as the court were in mourning, and only a few pearls adorned her this time. But otherwise, she still looked the same, with creamy skin dotted with freckles, bright brown eyes and wispy frame. She wrung her delicate hands as she seemingly gathered up courage to speak to him, but this time John beat her to it.
“Come with me after the mass.” The girl nods at his words, and ducks her head to hide the sunlit delight that comes over her features, feigning interest in the priests’ words. John barely hears a single word, as his world seemed to spin rapidly. She was every bit as lovely as he remembered. Hopefully this time, she would not vanish from his sight once more, and he sneaked surreptitious glances at her several times, until it was finished. After a short exchange of pleasantries with some courtiers, in which John tactfully refrained from telling them to go hang themselves from the rafters rather than to make him spend a single moment in their presence, he leaves for his own rooms, followed by a delicate dark shadow at a slight distance. He doesn’t turn around to acknowledge her, partly to avoid it being seen by others, and partly because he feels like Orpheus at this very moment; if he turns around to look, would this Eurydice fade into the shadows? His ears pick up the subdued sound of footsteps and the whisper of fabric along the corridor, but maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. It is not until he reaches his chamber that he stops and braces himself to face her once more. But perhaps it’s the fear that stills his movement, as if lead had been poured into his veins and John finds himself being unable to move. What breaks the spell is the light touch of a delicate hand on his elbow. The fey creature seems to be bolder than him and she even dares to move herself in front of him, taking his hand in hers. The scent of rosemary and citrus blooms once more and John’s knees almost goes weak, but it is she that curtsies to him much to his surprise.
“What…who…” To his shame he doesn’t manage to get more than that said before she speaks, and when she does, it’s the same rich musical voice that had haunted his dreams in various delectable ways for months now.
“My lord, forgive me for my behaviour that I showed when we meet for the first time.” John just stares at her in astonishment. Why on God’s green earth would she apologise that? If he is owed an apology for anything, it would surely be for leaving him dumbstruck and scorched by love without as much as a name to go by. Or for being unable to speak at all, much to the shame of a king’s son who is supposed to be made of sterner stuff. His uncle is fighting pirates in Spain and John can’t talk to a pretty girl. He almost wilts from shame at this intrusive though, but his fairy maiden brings his wandering mind back from the edge.
“I did not think I would see you again.” Somehow, he manages to remember how to speak. “I feared that you were a dream or a mirage from that very evening. If you had not left the ring, I would have been completely sure of that.”
She blushes, and John find the spreading of pink in her cheeks every bit as lovely as the rest of her. “I am ashamed of my actions. It was not appropriate of me, especially as you are the son of the king. Forgive me, I am so very embarrassed.”
“I still have the ring on me.” The girl startles and looks up towards him at his words.
“Still? Why? Surely there are more ladies that are more worthy of your affection?”
John is almost amused at the sudden change from the flirtatious lady that stole his heart with a glance and a dance, to a bewildered maid puzzled by his infatuation. “I do not give my affection lightly, certainly you know of that if you have been to court before that day. You have bewitched me, I am sure. With a single glance you have stolen by heart. It remains still yours, as the ring you gifted me remains mine. Pray tell me your name. I am still in the dark about that. My brother, the prince, would not tell me. If you wish to gift me nothing else, gift me your name. Otherwise, I shall never find peace in this life and shall be doomed to be as lost as a ship in a dark sea.”
It's the look in her face as he speaks that tells it all. Like a flower turns to the rising dawn and spreading its bright petals to soak up the warmth of the first rays.
“Marney. My name is Marney, my lord. Elizabeth Marney. I am the daughter of the Baron Marney.”
“Elizabeth” The same name that his sister had. Like the past queen of Hungary that wore the very perfume of rosemary she does. John’s mind is whirling.
“I ask my lady’s forgiveness. I should have known if when we meet.”
“I have my lord of Richmond’s smile for mine own keeping. I require nothing else, for I am given to know it is a very rare treasure indeed.” She smiles at him, like things are supposed to make sense that way and John tries to remember once more how the art of speaking, or indeed breathing goes.
“May I be as bold as to ask you for another favour then, mistress Marney? May I kiss you?”
John wonders if he has overstepped some boundaries that he had never understood, or worse if she will pull away from him in disgust, but for some reason that he can’t figure out at this point, she only smiles wider and brazenly stands up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. Her hand hangs on to his shoulder for balance and John instinctively puts his hand around her waist to steady her, which had the added benefit of bringing their bodies together close. And at that quiet moment, all the sorrows of these past weeks are forgotten completely, in the solace of the quiet chamber.
Author's Note: So here we have a another PLAGUE chapter set in England in 1528 on the same day as the other one. Poor Prince Richard, his luck is very bad right now. And ZERO points to all of you who did not guess that the mysterious girl would be Elizabeth Marney. I was inspired by the Gibli movie When Marnie was there when i wrote her character and interactions with John, since he's a surly grouch who do not like social things and she's this mysterious girl whom shows up and just changes his life. Picture me cackling like a loon when I wrote that.
The Sweating Sickness came back to England with devastating force nearly fifty years after it first appeared in 1480. The first cases struck the port cities in the beginning of October, and from there they spread like Greek fire. The plague creep up the Thames later during the month, causing fear and riots in the capital as the chilly and damp weather aided it, and both rich and poor died like mayflies. Richard and Catherine fled Westminster for Windsor Castle, but that did not stop the king from taking ill, even if he made a decent recovery weeks later. The Princess of Wales would not be as lucky. Anne of Brittany had been recently churched and she refused to abandon her baby daughter despite her husband’s urging that they leave Eltham. The princess limited her public appearances to avoid becoming infected, but the sickness still sneaked into her household, where it struck like an invisible serpent. Little Katherine became ill on the 14th of November and Anne nursed her diligently as a tiny baby cried endlessly as fever racked her small body. It was a miracle that the fever broke in the end, and while Katherine would live, her mother died instead. Anne succumbed on the 3rd of December, knowing that her darling daughter would survive. Her death broke Prince Richard completely and had John not interfered at the very last second, he would have succeeded in throwing himself out the window in grief, as Richmond had to use all his considerable strength to wrestle him away from the sharp edges of broken glass scattered in glistering colours along the windowsill and floor. In the scuffle the prince ended up with a dozen scars along his hands, arms, shoulder and neck, staining his and John’s clothes with blood as Richard’s bereaved howls echoed for all to hear. The king was devastated by the news, especially as his heir seemed to have lost his mind from sorrow and he ordered the prince confined to his chamber under strict supervision. Catherine was also prevented from leaving Windsor by her husband, as he was terrified that she too would be struck by the plague.
The sweating sickness also slowed down the english on the continent. Richard had sent aid to Brabant in the fighting in Picardy due to the region being near Calais and should the French take Picardy, then the last Plantagenet foothold would certainly be lost. But the chaos of the port cities near the channel made shipments of soldiers far harder and French sailors took advantage of it to attack English vessels.
The Christmas celebrations in the Yorkist court were non-existent, as the court was scattered and grieving. The king fell ill once more in the middle of December, sending all into a great panic at the prospect of a possible mad king, but fortunately he recovered as the year of 1529 begun, much to great relief. In the middle of all this madness, John became the centre of stability. While no one would ever accuse the Duke of Richmond of being a warm and cheerful person, he maintained order, as rioters and looters were harshly punished or executed and that won him great admiration amongst many.
It was in the middle of a mass being conducted on the day of Epiphany before the diminished court that John saw a familiar face again. A flash of chestnut hair entered the corner of his vision, a waft of rosemary came to him; suddenly his fairy maiden stood before his very eyes. Her green garments were gone, like many she had dressed in black as the court were in mourning, and only a few pearls adorned her this time. But otherwise, she still looked the same, with creamy skin dotted with freckles, bright brown eyes and wispy frame. She wrung her delicate hands as she seemingly gathered up courage to speak to him, but this time John beat her to it.
“Come with me after the mass.” The girl nods at his words, and ducks her head to hide the sunlit delight that comes over her features, feigning interest in the priests’ words. John barely hears a single word, as his world seemed to spin rapidly. She was every bit as lovely as he remembered. Hopefully this time, she would not vanish from his sight once more, and he sneaked surreptitious glances at her several times, until it was finished. After a short exchange of pleasantries with some courtiers, in which John tactfully refrained from telling them to go hang themselves from the rafters rather than to make him spend a single moment in their presence, he leaves for his own rooms, followed by a delicate dark shadow at a slight distance. He doesn’t turn around to acknowledge her, partly to avoid it being seen by others, and partly because he feels like Orpheus at this very moment; if he turns around to look, would this Eurydice fade into the shadows? His ears pick up the subdued sound of footsteps and the whisper of fabric along the corridor, but maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. It is not until he reaches his chamber that he stops and braces himself to face her once more. But perhaps it’s the fear that stills his movement, as if lead had been poured into his veins and John finds himself being unable to move. What breaks the spell is the light touch of a delicate hand on his elbow. The fey creature seems to be bolder than him and she even dares to move herself in front of him, taking his hand in hers. The scent of rosemary and citrus blooms once more and John’s knees almost goes weak, but it is she that curtsies to him much to his surprise.
“What…who…” To his shame he doesn’t manage to get more than that said before she speaks, and when she does, it’s the same rich musical voice that had haunted his dreams in various delectable ways for months now.
“My lord, forgive me for my behaviour that I showed when we meet for the first time.” John just stares at her in astonishment. Why on God’s green earth would she apologise that? If he is owed an apology for anything, it would surely be for leaving him dumbstruck and scorched by love without as much as a name to go by. Or for being unable to speak at all, much to the shame of a king’s son who is supposed to be made of sterner stuff. His uncle is fighting pirates in Spain and John can’t talk to a pretty girl. He almost wilts from shame at this intrusive though, but his fairy maiden brings his wandering mind back from the edge.
“I did not think I would see you again.” Somehow, he manages to remember how to speak. “I feared that you were a dream or a mirage from that very evening. If you had not left the ring, I would have been completely sure of that.”
She blushes, and John find the spreading of pink in her cheeks every bit as lovely as the rest of her. “I am ashamed of my actions. It was not appropriate of me, especially as you are the son of the king. Forgive me, I am so very embarrassed.”
“I still have the ring on me.” The girl startles and looks up towards him at his words.
“Still? Why? Surely there are more ladies that are more worthy of your affection?”
John is almost amused at the sudden change from the flirtatious lady that stole his heart with a glance and a dance, to a bewildered maid puzzled by his infatuation. “I do not give my affection lightly, certainly you know of that if you have been to court before that day. You have bewitched me, I am sure. With a single glance you have stolen by heart. It remains still yours, as the ring you gifted me remains mine. Pray tell me your name. I am still in the dark about that. My brother, the prince, would not tell me. If you wish to gift me nothing else, gift me your name. Otherwise, I shall never find peace in this life and shall be doomed to be as lost as a ship in a dark sea.”
It's the look in her face as he speaks that tells it all. Like a flower turns to the rising dawn and spreading its bright petals to soak up the warmth of the first rays.
“Marney. My name is Marney, my lord. Elizabeth Marney. I am the daughter of the Baron Marney.”
“Elizabeth” The same name that his sister had. Like the past queen of Hungary that wore the very perfume of rosemary she does. John’s mind is whirling.
“I ask my lady’s forgiveness. I should have known if when we meet.”
“I have my lord of Richmond’s smile for mine own keeping. I require nothing else, for I am given to know it is a very rare treasure indeed.” She smiles at him, like things are supposed to make sense that way and John tries to remember once more how the art of speaking, or indeed breathing goes.
“May I be as bold as to ask you for another favour then, mistress Marney? May I kiss you?”
John wonders if he has overstepped some boundaries that he had never understood, or worse if she will pull away from him in disgust, but for some reason that he can’t figure out at this point, she only smiles wider and brazenly stands up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. Her hand hangs on to his shoulder for balance and John instinctively puts his hand around her waist to steady her, which had the added benefit of bringing their bodies together close. And at that quiet moment, all the sorrows of these past weeks are forgotten completely, in the solace of the quiet chamber.
Author's Note: So here we have a another PLAGUE chapter set in England in 1528 on the same day as the other one. Poor Prince Richard, his luck is very bad right now. And ZERO points to all of you who did not guess that the mysterious girl would be Elizabeth Marney. I was inspired by the Gibli movie When Marnie was there when i wrote her character and interactions with John, since he's a surly grouch who do not like social things and she's this mysterious girl whom shows up and just changes his life. Picture me cackling like a loon when I wrote that.
I am back! With plagues and deaths! I don't think it will come as a shock to many that Anne of Brittany had DEATH spelled all over her.
Elizabeth is more focused on John at the moment, but poor Richard will need some help as well. Rip his third wife!
No, but she made him very happy for a time.
Now let me see who wife nr 4 will be?
I have a option in mind, but getting there is another matter.
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