- Pronouns
- He/Him
This is hilariously ironic. The narration and the readers gearing up to see what drastic actions Henry will take to finally upstage the stupid little girl, and then this comes out of nowhere, to his benefit.
Well, there is this really nice bar on the west end of Rub Al Kah. His plan was to go to it, and right now is drinking in it.
Once again, Joseph shows why he's my favorite character.No, no, a moment. A single instant of time. Freeze.
You made a mistake, young Henry. Yes, you, I, we, we made a singular, and very powerful mistake.
We underestimated Joseph.
We underestimated him so badly, it's not even funny.
The beggar in the tavern had to be Joseph, there was no other option. Apparently, his royal highness enjoyed hiding as a beggar and walking down the streets of Lutece, and he had done so, more than once. He must have met Cromwell here and decided to fuck with him since he hadn't anything better to do, but because there was no Sheffield...oh hell, this-this was like...
He had sent money to empower a rebellion against Albion in order to then cook up a casus belli to annex the country.
From the get go, Joseph had me pacify Brittany because it would be the starting point of the invasion, even before the situation got so out of hand. He hadn't planned the multi-purpose fleet just to defend against Albion, but to invade it too. He had extensively used his own network of spies and underground means to get things to go his way-and when the time had come to pull the rug from beneath their feet, he hadn't needed to do so because it was up to Isabella to do it.
Even if by some coincidence it would have been tracked back to him, he-he had abdicated.
He wasn't responsible any longer. So...so even if I understood this, acknowledged it and told it to someone, it wouldn't matter at all because he was gone, and only the innocents -like Isabella- would pay the price of it in the end.
He had passed the crown and pulled the final strings to destroy the rug.
He-He...
He had gifted Albion to his daughter.
The final gift of a father that was never there for his only child.
A fitting farewell, a final goodbye?
That would be your blue-haired guardian angel in action, Henry."Your highness-we speak honestly, and there is just cause for it," one of the nobles said. "I-I am General Hawkins sir, and I swear it upon the gods-it's sad, but true. We...the army had thousands of demi-humans within it. Orcs, trolls, fanged ogres-but they fought for the thrill of it, for food and nothing else. They were kept in check by a few of us capable of striking deals they might like but...the gods punished those nobles, and they died horribly. One fell from the stairs, and impaled himself on his own wand. Another slipped and fell face first into the maws of a dragon. The demi-humans no longer obeyed so we had to fight to put them down-we lost most of our troops. Now, we are barely twenty thousands, and none of them are mercenaries, only Marquis' men who no longer have lords guiding them. They want to go home. We want this war to end-" General Hawkins looked at me with a pleading expression.
I just stared. This had to be a trap.
Joseph: "So Henry, I've found some new drinking buddies. Apparently those long eared bastards can make some fine wine. After I drunk over half of them under the table they decided they would be fine opening peace talks. Tell Isabella to have fun with that. Now Anne says she found a bar with some new wines we haven't tried yet, later!"
"Your next line -- several years from today -- is "Take all of Albion off of our hands"!"Also this is taking "Your next line is" to a whole different level.