The breeze rustled gently.
Withered grass swayed lightly.
The weather for the decisive battle was somewhat dim.
Losa rode a grand steed, adorned with luxurious horse armor and equipped with an iron ramming horn at the head. Beside him was Jeanne, holding a banner with a white base and a fleur-de-lis.
Unlike the first simulation outside Beauval Castle, where his so-called "army" barely numbered three thousand, this time, he had over ten thousand troops!
And his opponents had grown stronger too; the coalition was not only well-rested but also nearly twice his number.
The Duke of Burgundy, who held a vast expanse of Northern France and extended his reach to the prosperous lowlands (referring to the Benelux Region), surpassed the newly crowned Charles VII in financial prowess.
The troops he dispatched were remarkably formidable, making up more than half of the coalition. They not only included a large number of free mercenaries but also a near thousand-strong elite heavy cavalry regiment.
"Jeanne, what do you think we should do?"
Losa looked at the side profile of the female knight, her golden long hair pressed against her slightly flushed cheeks, having been worn under a helmet.
Though both Jeanne and Jeanne are translations, the latter had been rendered by Losa to highlight the noble character of Jeanne, equivalent to an interpretation.
Thus, the term Jeanne, in contrast, became quite intimate.
Jeanne thought for a moment and said, "We must not charge blindly; the English defenses are very steadfast. They have barricades, earth spikes, and trip ropes. They definitely aim to replicate the victory at Agincourt."
The knights of France were undeniably brave, but too much bravery turns into recklessness!
They even once charged against enemy formations lined with barricades.
Upon reaching the barricades, they dismounted to remove the obstacles and barricades before charging again—just imagining this scene seems somewhat ridiculous and laughable.
Lance charging, this tactic that seemed perpetually useful, never outdated, made them rigid and inflexible.
The English opponents, on the other hand, because they could not afford to arm so many knights, innovated repeatedly in tactics, repeatedly defeating the mighty France with less than a third of the financial resources and population.
"Then what should we do?"
Jeanne replied with a smile, "My King, you have already devised a strategy against the enemy, so why ask me?"
Losa's face broke into a smile, "Perhaps the will of the Heavenly Father will make our hearts resonate, aligning our strategies against the enemy?"
The two laughed and talked, seemingly indifferent to the enemy opposite them, thus instilling confidence in numerous generals and knights.
Since the Hundred Years' War began, France had failed too many times.
At this moment, a group of knights came galloping over, halting not far away. The Duke of Burgundy personally rode out front, calling out to Losa's army, "Bring out King of Niger to meet me!"
King of Niger referred to Charles VII, dubbed with scornful meaning after being deprived of his claim to the throne and exiled to the Niger territory.
Losa decisively rode forward to meet them.
"My dear cousin, it's a pleasure to see you, but unfortunately, it's under these circumstances that we meet."
Losa removed his helmet, saluting with a smile, "But cousin, I still hope you uphold the decorum of king and subject, addressing me as His Majesty the King."
Philip scoffed, "Charles, unless you are crowned at Reims, you'll never be considered the King of France. Now, I demand you repent here for my father."
Losa drew a cross over his chest, "I am very willing to do so, may Heavenly Father bless Uncle John—I am quite saddened, cousin, truly, because you take no heed of my words to you, which evidently are a complete conspiracy."
Philip drew his knight's sword, sneering coldly, "The words you speak are venom spat from a serpent's mouth; I don't believe a single word."
Losa beamed enthusiastically, "So cousin, you come here to meet me, intending a duel between knights, perhaps? Let Heavenly Father witness if I'm lying or not!"
Philip hesitated, recalling his opponent's demonstrated skills in previous battles, retorted coldly, "No, I shall capture you myself on the battlefield. Prepare for combat, my dear cousin!"
Losa shouted to Philip's retreating figure, "My dear cousin, do you lack even the courage to duel me? Or do you think of me like those treacherous Englishmen opposite, who at all disregard knightly honor and use bowstrings to strangle your kin?"
Philip stifled his anger, amidst the jeers of knights and nobles, returned to his camp in humiliation.
Seemingly angered, soon, the Burgundy troops made their first move.
The cavalry rode forth at the forefront, advancing in well-ordered formations.
The mercenaries, divided by weaponry, formed various phalanxes, moving forward together.
In Philip's view, they held the numerical advantage, and the mercenaries specialized in killing far exceeded those under Losa's command, many of whom were militia gathered from villages and towns.
This battle, the advantage is mine!
Losa returned to his ranks, said to Jeanne with a smile, "Ha, look at my impatient cousin; the English must have promised him many things." Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝘯𝘦𝘵
Jeanne replied, smiling, "Just as we envisioned it, Philip takes command personally, presuming parity with the King of England, surely reluctant to heed the Duke of Bedford's instructions. Conversely, the Duke of Bedford must cooperate with Philip, charging from the strategically arranged formation like a tortoise shell."