Chapter 4 Dinner with Friends

"He lifted her high in the air! He sniffed and roared and smelled her there! She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair! He licked the honey from her hair!"

As the English knight finished the verse, the others in his company took up the chorus. "From there to here. From here to there! All black and brown and covered in hair! He smelled that girl on the summer air! The bear, the bear! And the maiden fair!"

Joan glanced over her shoulder at the musical knights, then turned to Edward. "Your men are quite jovial, all zings considered."

"They're just trying to keep their spirits up," Edward explained with a smirk, "The time to worry is when they stop singing."

Joan grinned and regarded the admittedly handsome prince. The French champion spent several seconds trying to reconcile the noble young man with the brutality and violence she'd come to associate with the English, largely from her own experience. "Your men clearly love you, Prince Edward, and you seem like a man of honor. What are you doing in zis war?"

"I'm simply doing my duty," Edward said, his tone even if a bit strained.

"Your duty to sack towns take ozere people's land?" Joan sneered

"Aquitaine has been under English control for as long as I can recall," the prince countered, "and the people of Flanders welcomed our rule, if I remember correctly."

"And the chevauchee your father ordered?" Joan asked, "How many French thanked you for that?"

Edward faltered in answering that. To be sure, he'd had objections to his father's brutal orders, but he still followed them. Before the prince could answer, both riders' attention was grabbed by the flutter of wings and cawing of crows. They turned to see several of the carrion birds pecking at the bodies of French and English soldiers, as well as a few peasants, which had been hung from trees. Joan and Edward shared a look, silently agreeing to focus on their current situation and continued onward.

Noticing fellow English troops headed up the road toward him, Edward spurred Attila, pulling slightly ahead of Joan. "Let me explain the situation. My men wouldn't become hostile if they see me in the lead."

Edward strode forward to see Chandos leading the approaching company. The stern general surveyed Edward and those with him as he approached, cautiously asking, "Are you with these French of your own free will, my prince?"

"Yes, Chandos, and I've given the Lady of Arc and her men my word that they'd be granted safe passage for the time being." the Black Prince explained, "Is our headquarters still standing?"

"Yes, my prince, those...things have proven quite formidable, but we've held." as Chandos spoke, Joan had ridden forward to be just behind Edward, wanting to know the situation. Noticing her, the aging general turned to Joan then back to his prince, only for Edward to silence any objection with a raised hand. Chandos looked back to Joan and spoken neutrally, "We will keep Prince Edward's oath...my lady. Please, the both of you, follow us."

#*#*#

Ilsa and her companions moved briskly down the worn road, growing steadily wearier as they went. Since abandoning the contract, they hadn't seen anyone from either kingdom, or any of their fellow mercenaries. Da tavern is only a mile or two away, Ilsa thought, Ve should have seen SOMEVON by now.

As if on cue, the troops suddenly heard the thunderous banging of musket fire just around a nearby hill. "You don't think the monsters have gotten their hands on guns, do you?" William asked nervously.

"Either vay, there's someone probably needing our help," Ilsa said turning to address all present, "Let's move! Schnell!"

"We gonna get paid for this one?" Naran muttered, but none the less followed. The three battered mercenary troops advanced around the hill to find Diane's fusiliers arranged into two ranks: one kneeling, one standing, Karen's duel swordsmen and Magnus' sword and shield troops behind them. Arrayed against them were at least three times that number of goblins.

As the small creatures surged forward, Diane calmly addressed her troops. "Rear rank, fire!" The standing fusiliers fired, pelting the goblins with lead and slowing their attack. "Advance!" the men who had just fired, moved forward and knelt, their comrades rising to their feet behind them. "Rear rank, fire!

Diane kept this up, sending one volley of murderous fire after another into the creatures as her troops slowly shuffled toward them, their sword welding comrades keeping pace behind them. The goblins' momentum had all but stopped, those in front dropping from musket fire and being tripped over or crashed into by those behind them. Some goblins desperately raised shields only to find they offered no protection.

Once the mercenaries were within twenty paces, Diane ordered a ceasefire, whereupon Magnus and Karen rushed forward. As the two troops of swordsmen sliced through the decimated goblins, Naran relaxed in this saddle, "It looks like they've got things under control."

"Guys!" Naran and Ilsa followed William's gesture to see more goblins, as well as barbarians and figures in robes, approaching their colleagues from behind.

"Good eye, Villiam," Ilsa said patting the youth on the shoulder. On the battlefield, Diane was enjoying the show when she heard the war cries behind her. The fusilier turned to see the oncoming enemies, only for several of the lead attackers to drop suddenly. Naran and his mongols rode past, pelting their enemies with arrows as Ilsa and William's troops rushed forward and began to slice and stab into them, effectively outflanking the flankers.

Diane nodded gratefully to Naran as he and his men reorganized and turned to her men. "Careful shots, boys! Don't hit our friends!" As the fusiliers began taking potshots into the melee, Diane noticed a concerned Karen approach followed by Magnus. "We're fine, help ze German girl and ze wimp."

Soon all six mercenary troops were having at the monsters when the robed figures, who so far had stayed back from the fight, lunged forward as one, thrusting their staffs at the melee. Fire shot forth from the staffs, indiscriminately engulfing mercenaries and monsters alike.

When Ilsa had heard about newly arrived mercenaries using actual magic, she didn't believe it. The little landsknecht just thought it was some new weapon that ignorant mercenaries couldn't explain otherwise. The screams of people and monsters roasting alive around her made for a convincing argument to the contrary. Shouting as loud as she could to be heard over the screams, Ilsa ordered, "Kill the sorcerers!"

Breaking from the melee, Ilsa and several other mercenaries rushed toward the new threat. Seeing this, the synchronized magic users began to charge up another spell. Thrusting out their staffs again, they sent not fire but some kind of green energy or mana. Ilsa was tackled to the ground as her several of comrades were blasted off their feet around her. The stocky young woman recognized her rescuer as one of her landsknechts, who had taken the full force of the attack for his heroics. Danke, Otto. Ilsa pulled herself from under the fallen dopplesoldier's body and found herself virtually alone against the mages.

In Ilsa's experience, killing the leader usually caused an entire unit to breakdown, so she scanned the magic users as she retrieved her zweihander and rose to her feet. Spotting one with slightly more ornate garb then the rest, the stocky girl decided he was her man and rushed forward. She could already see the troop getting ready to unleash yet another magical attack as she lifted her sword up over her head. In desperation, Ilsa spun on her heel, flinging her massive sword at the magician leader. The weapon flew through the air toward the surprised sorcerers, landing a hit on their leader and knocking him and those around him to the ground. Not letting up, Ilsa sprinted the last few yards and retrieved her zweihander just as the leader had risen to his knees. With a powerful thrust, the long blade exploded out the magician's back and sank into the earth behind him, propping the body up as he died.

Around Ilsa, the other magic users staggered back in shock, losing their perfect synchronization as if a spell was broken, which may have been the case. Before any of the sorcerers could retaliate, several of them were cut down by musket fire, followed by Naran and his men riding by and firing numerous arrows. As more and more mercenaries rushed forward, the magic users fled, many being cut down by the vengeful fighters.

With her foot on the boss sorcerer's chest, Ilsa pulled her sword free and turned to see Karen and Magnus approaching. "Thanks for the help," Karen said, "Diane and her men wouldn't have had a chance."

"Just glad to see some friendly faces." Ilsa shrugged, "What do you know about what's happening?"

"Just that there's monsters running amok," Magnus explained, "The buggers attacked the tavern almost as soon as you left, but we were able to fight 'em off."

"After that, we and some of the other mercenaries set up our own little outpost. We were sent out to eliminate any monsters in the area and find anyone who might need help." Karen continued, then smiled, "C'mon, we should get back. You'll never guess who's in charge."

#*#*#

Henry Percy was relieved to see the English flag still flying over the castle in northeastern Normandy. He and Iamarl lead their weary troops toward the fortress, stopping at an impromptu checkpoint guarded by swordsmen and archers. "Halt," the commander said cautiously, "identify yourself, sir."

"Sir Henry Percy," Hotspur impatiently replied, "You can see we're English, now step aside, we have wounded men."

When the guards did as Henry commanded, the knight and his men immediately rushed down the road. "Sir Percy, wait!" the commander shouted, "You should know..."

Percy paid the man no heed and moved his troops into the castle proper. All around, he could see nervous soldiers moving around, manning guard points, helping wounded or constructing defenses. After seeing to their wounded, Henry and Iamarl led their able-bodied men into the courtyard. Henry turned to the assassin when he noticed a flash of blue.

Seated near the center of the courtyard, looking just slightly uncomfortable, were a dozen French soldiers, chatting and under no guard or restraint at all. His combat reflexes kicking in, Henry drew his sword and turned to his men, "Seize them!" he shouted gesturing to the French. The surprised Frenchmen barely had time to react before they were surrounded by English blades. Around the scene, other English soldiers watched in surprise, and some amusement. Noticing the castle's commander approach, Hotspur climbed down off his horse and angrily approached the man. "What the hell is wrong with you lot? Why are these prisoners running loose!?"

The commander faltered nervously, Hotspur's fiery temper and tendency to lash out at allies were infamous. Finally, the commander steeled himself and answered, "...They're not prisoners, sir."

#*#*#

Several floors above the courtyard, Joan sat on the bed of the room she'd been provided, her armor and weapons neatly arranged on a nearby table. Her accommodations were considerably more comfortable then the last time she'd been in English care. Just the thought of her capture sent a shiver down the young champion's back, helped somewhat when she remembered Ilsa stepping into her cell and reassuringly offering a hand. Thinking of the landsknecht reminded Joan that virtually all of her friends and companions were now unaccounted for. Moving to the window, Joan crossed herself, knelt on the hard stone floor, folded her hands together and looked up toward the slowly darkening sky, begging God to protect those close to her in prayer.

Just as the Maid finished, there was a knock at her door. Joan glanced wearily at her sword, then moved to answer the door unarmed. Standing in the hall was a young servant, called Wot. "Milady," the youth greeted with a formal bow, "His 'ighness, Prince Edward sends word to invite you to dine with him and some of his commanders. I'm to escort you."

Joan raised an eyebrow at the servant's words. Rationally, it made sense; she was there as a guest under the protection of a member of the Royal Family. It was proper, even required, to show her such courtesy. Nevertheless, Joan had a feeling she now knew how Daniel felt when he was thrown into the lion's den. Daniel survived ze lion's den Joan reminded herself. "Very well," she stepped out of her room, "Please lead ze way."

The trip was thankfully short, but still involved more than a few glares from English guards. "God, it would be so easy." one particularly brazen soldier muttered. Joan was glad she and Wot arrived at the dining hall before she had much time to wonder what 'it' meant. As the servant opened the door for Joan and stepped aside with a bow, Joan entered to find Edward, now sans his trademark armor, speaking to a young girl in a midriff exposing green shirt and matching short skirt.

Noticing Joan, Edward beckoned her over, "Glad to see you accepted my invitation," he said diplomatically, stepping halfway between the two girls, the Black Prince made the necessary introduction. "Joan of Arc, this is Branwyn of the Bow."

"We actually met once before," Branwyn said as she shook Joan's hand, "In battle near Aquitaine, I was the one what shot the flower off yer head."

"...I'm glad we're meeting now under more amicable circumstances." Joan replied

"Branwyn is a rare case were her boasting almost meets her actual talents," Edward patted the Welsh girl on the shoulder as he spoke, "I believe you remember Chandos?" the stern general, also dressed more casually nodded cordially to Joan as Edward gestured to one of a handful of servants waiting attentively near another doorway. "Can I order you something to drink, Joan? We mostly have beer and ale, but there's also some fine wine."

"Do you 'ave anything zat isn't alcoholic?" at the surprised looks from Edward and Branwyn, Joan became slightly indignant, "What? A French girl zat doesn't like wine isn't zat strange is it? You must have tea or somezing." At Joan's last comment, Edward raised an eyebrow, causing Joan to blush upon realizing her slip up.

Branwyn clapped her hands and announced, "Cider it is!"

The mood began to lighten somewhat as four mugs of cider were poured and the warriors sat down together. Just as Joan was starting to feel secure, shouting was heard from down the hall. "Damn it, Henry Percy, can we talk about this for two seconds!?"

The door burst open and an irate, long haired knight stormed in, followed by a flustered Middle Eastern woman. Spotting Edward, he stormed toward the prince shouting "Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

Everyone at the table rose to their feet as Henry rushed up to Edward, throwing Joan a glare on the way. The unfazed Black Prince stood his ground as Henry approached, looking him in eye and speaking. "Henry Percy, what seems to be the trouble?"

"You let our enemies into our camp!" Percy seethed, stabbing a finger at Joan, "What the hell are you thinking?!"

"You're talking to a prince, Sir Percy," Chandos admonished, "Show respect."

"It's alright, Chandos," Edward said, he turned back to Hotspur and continued, "Henry, you're one of my finest commanders and I respect that you speak your mind." Suddenly, Edward seized Henry by the collar and shoved the surprised knight back toward the wall. When Henry's back made contact with the stone bricks, the prince swept his right leg out from under him. Edward kept his grip on Hotspur's collar as the knight fell and raised his right fist as if to strike his downed friend. He looked down on Percy and calmly said, "But I will not be shouted at like that."

Edward released his friend and offered his hand. The chastised knight hesitated for a moment, then allowed his prince to help him to his feet. The Black Prince looked to the assassin and gestured to the table, "Iamarl, would you and Henry join us for dinner?"

Iamarl sighed, then nodded her head cordially, "We would delighted, my prince."

Joan, Edward, Chandos, and Branwyn returned to their seats while Iamarl and Henry took the remaining empty ones, which placed Hotspur directly across from Joan. The knight sensed the slight tension still hanging in the air, and was self-aware enough to know it centered on him. Glancing across the table he could see the Maid/Witch of Orleans flash a polite smile before turning to Branwyn. Unexpectedly, memories of his knighting came to Henry's mind. "Be without fear in the presence of your enemies." His mentor had solemnly recited. Imagine this isn't exactly what you had in mind, Master.

Seeing Hotspur smirk caused his tablemates to exchange a few confused looks. Glancing toward Edward, Joan smiled and asked, "So, what will we be having, Your Highness."

"Ground up French babies with Scottish blood for sauce." Hotspur quipped.

Branwyn snickered, and around the table, everyone seemed to genuinely relax. Henry would still have words with Edward later, but for the time being, he'd shown that he would behave. Food was brought out for the gathered warriors. It was a little greasier then Joan was used to, but she knew better then to insult her hosts.

All but Iamarl bowed their heads, (the assassin followed the Old Persian gods) and Edward led the table in grace. "Lord, we thank you for your protection on the battlefield and for the bounty we are about to partake. And we ask that, in light of these new enemies, that you bestow your blessing on the warriors of England..." the prince cracked an eye open, glancing at Joan, "and all humanity. Amen."

"Amen." Everyone chorused and the meal began.

#*#*#

Arthur followed Fastolf and Jean, keeping a cautious eye on the Englishman until they arrived at a castle flying both the French and English flags. As they entered, Arthur could see peasants looking hopefully at the newly arrived warriors, as well as formerly warring soldiers from England and France milling about, not mixing but not hostile either. The gates were closed and barred behind the troops and Arthur and You Ji were led into the keep while the mercenaries and their men settled down to rest.

The newcomers were lead into a war room where Arthur recognized du Guesclin leaning over a map with a bulky English man. Seeing them approach, du Guesclin smiled in greeting, "Arthur de Richemont! I'm glad to see you alive and well!" he tightly hugged his compatriot, causing a pained grown from the blonde young man. "Well, alive at least, and zat is something to be thankful for!"

du Guesclin released de Richemont who then turned to the large Englishman. To Arthur's relief, he extended his hand in greeting, "John Talbot, at your service, Lord de Richemont. Have a seat, you seem like you could use it."

Arthur sank into an empty chair near the table, You Ji standing supportively behind him, and felt a wave of relief to be off his feet. As the exhaustion and pain he'd been pushing to back of his mind came surging forth, the young lord glanced at the map laid out on the table and then up at the four men across from him. "What. Ze hell. Is going on?"

Fastolf smirked at the exasperated commander and spoke. "Well, Lord de Richemont, things have taken a most unexpected turn." he gestured to himself and Talbot, then du Guesclin and Jean, "We were all set to begin killing one another, you know, business as usual, when suddenly we were accosted by monsters."

Arthur stared blankly at the facetious Englishman. "It's true, de Richemont," du Guesclin explained, "Ze creatures and zeir barbarian allies set on us like locusts. We did all we could to protect ze common people, but zere were too many of zem. Things were looking bad when Fastolf came riding up as if for tea and offered an alliance."

"Which he did without informing me," Talbot muttered.

du Guesclin excitedly leaned forward against the table. "Zis is wonderful, de Richemont. Before, all of us together could only hold our ground, maybe launch a skirmish or two. But now, with you and your men, we can strike back!"

Arthur looked to each of the four men in turn, seeing looks of determination and hope from all, except Fastolf who simply looked amused. The young man knew You Ji would support any course of action he took. Noticing a bottle of ale sitting on the table, the exhausting and parched lord seized the bottle and downed the entire contents. He set it back down and looked to his new comrades. "Let's do it."