July 27th, 1400
Duke Jean stood outside the church, preparing to accept the surrender by the steward of Anjou acting in the absence of King Louis of Naples. Not a lone soldier had died in the siege. Resistance from Anjou had been token, the local dialect was already quite close to the Gallo of Upper Brittany and Provence had done little to protect them from Brittany. More found it a simplification than anything. Maine offered more resistance and for that and they would soon be quelled as well.
Aourgen had arrived the night before and stood by Jean's side.
Aourgen: What is the news Milord?
Jean: Bar collapsed handily before Burgundy while you were riding through France. Some lesser captain, Rene de Castellux I believe, felt spurred and has gathered himself an army, claiming to be Duke by some obscure law of inherentance. Past that, nothing of note.
Aourgen: You're certain that's his name? I haven't heard of them.
Jean: An obscure family at best, though I wouldn't be surprised if he was simply a commoner who took on a name. Regardless, I suspect that he might be supported by the French and so his army is respectable.
Aourgen: Should we offer aid?
Jean: Phillipe still has momentum from the war and his realm is no longer in two pieces. The French have thrown their money away and frankly have better things to do than throw more of their money or men away, they are at way with England after all.
Aourgen: You have not heard then? England has been driven from Normand shores.
Jean: I had hoped they would fare better.
Aourgen: And trade one foe for the next? Let them both expend eachother but whoever holds Paris is our foe.
Jean: You dream of lands too far east Aourgen.
Aourgen: I dream of glory.
Jean: Then ready the men. We march north tomorrow. The ceremony should not take long.