Jean rode home. The Ermine flew high on all flanks. The Black Flemish lion against it. The symbol of the conquerer.
Men drank and laughed, men spoke in Breton, Gallo and French. Many proclaimed this had been won without any shedding of Breton blood, this was an exaggeration; Two hundred something men had fallen, but in light of the victories, two thousand would have felt light.
The seiges had been long, but passed for the most part without event. Savoy would soon seize Provence and Naples could no longer hope to retake what was lost. An envoy was sent with demands some time ago.
Jean took his seat in court as the envoy approached once more, followed by a Neapolitan.
"In regards to peace, Louis of Naples has dediced to-"
"Non c'รจ pace. Vai all'inferno."
Jean looked down, glaring at the Neapolitan.
"What?"
The reply came in Latin, clear as day, two words rung out;
"Nos nolle."
We refuse.
"Seize him. Take him to the lowest prison and let him rot as the prisonners whisper while Louis crawls to the gallows. Let him hear them curse his blaggart king in every language he speaks and as Bretons law stands over Neapolitan shores. Then, may the blade fall upon his neck. The arrogant bastard. But for now, at tomorrow's dawn, let us ride."
Jean the Conquerer, who rumours now spoke of as invincible. Swift as a fox, with twice the craft, now showed his age. He collapsed on the chair, red still and shaken from his own yelling. He shook somewhat.
The estates whispered amongst themselves as the guards reluctantly followed orders, for something had shaken him to his core, but, it was said before and after, he and God alone knew what.
But orders were not to be forgotten and word to take arms once more had already begun to spread.
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