Chapter 10: Countess Jeanne and the Mighty Sovereign of France

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From Dieppe, a formidable French army set forth, aiming to unite with King Philip VI of France stationed in Calais.

This army was personally led by Countess Jeanne of Évreux, who had successfully rallied the remnants of the forces from the Battle of Sluys.

Together with knights from her own domain and conscripted soldiers, she assembled a powerful armed force exceeding three thousand men.

Among them were over two hundred knights, accompanied by nearly twice that number of heavily armored cavalry.

Carlo and Roberto, serving as armed attendants to Ressarit, were also part of this contingent.

Through Ressarit’s words, they learned the full background of the situation.

“After King Edward III of England’s victory at the Battle of Sluys, he led seven earls, nine thousand archers, thousands of Flemish pikemen, and a large group of mercenaries to besiege Tournai near Flanders.

“His forces number up to thirty thousand! Tournai is renowned for its marble sculptures and metal armor production.

“In 1340, the city housed roughly twenty thousand inhabitants, making it one of France’s largest provincial cities and extremely vital to the French crown!

“Should Tournai fall, King Philip’s authority would suffer a severe blow!”

“Meanwhile, Philip VI was furious over the naval defeat and prepared to muster an army larger than Edward’s to relieve the besieged Tournai.”

“So now we hasten to join King Philip’s army.”

After this period of rigorous training and ample food intake, Carlo’s physical condition and swordsmanship had markedly improved.

At first, Carlo had indeed contemplated fleeing while at sea.

Now, he had come to terms with his fate—once entangled in this world, whether willingly or not, he had limited choices.

Since escape was impossible, he resolved to face it bravely.

Edward III?

Had he not once been his “vanquished foe”?

At that moment, Countess Jeanne of Évreux, clad in armor and astride a tall steed, rode directly to Ressarit’s side.

She pulled the reins, and after the horse neighed a few times, it gradually calmed.

“Ressarit, I have heard of your performance at the Battle of Sluys—it was splendid and earned my admiration.

“At present, I lack capable commanders for battle, and I intend to appoint you as the commander of one of my detachments during wartime.

“Rest assured, you and your attendants will be well rewarded—I will pay you double the usual wages.”

Ressarit’s heart leapt with joy, though his face remained respectful. He bowed slightly and delivered a knightly salute, neither servile nor arrogant:

“Your Grace, it is my honor to receive your favor.

“These two are my attendants, Carlo and Roberto. They have loyally followed me since the Battle of Sluys, demonstrating great courage and unwavering resolve on the battlefield.”

Carlo and Roberto immediately knelt on one knee and saluted the Countess.

Jeanne nodded gently, her gaze sweeping over the two men as she spoke:

“It seems you have capable men at your side.

“Ressarit, from now on we shall be comrades in battle—no need for formalities.

“When the time for war comes, I shall see what you are truly capable of.”

Countess Jeanne of Évreux possessed an exaggeratedly perfect appearance and figure.

Her golden hair was silky and lustrous, the ends curling slightly, elegantly fluttering in the breeze.

Her eyes were a clear and deep blue, reflecting both determination and gentleness.

Her skin was pale as snow, delicate and smooth to the touch.

Her face was exquisitely beautiful, with perfectly balanced features, as if a finely crafted work of art.

Tall and slender, her graceful figure was captivating; even clad in chainmail, her unique feminine charm and voluptuousness shone through, radiating extraordinary allure.

Carlo marveled inwardly:

Jeanne?

Her appearance closely resembled a character from an anime called FA.

He copied Ressarit's manner of saluting:

“My lady, I am Carlo, and it is my honor to serve you.”

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Jeanne was momentarily stunned before bursting into hearty laughter:

“Ha ha! Carlo, you’re quite amusing.

“Want to be my servant or attendant?

“Very well, once we’re on the battlefield, I’ll have a good look at your skills!”

With that, she nodded to Ressarit and the others, then rode away.

Carlo was somewhat confused—what did Jeanne’s words mean?

Ressarit’s expression darkened instantly.

After the Countess departed, he turned to Carlo with a tone tinged with reproach:

“Carlo, I know you’re from Florence, and perhaps you’re unfamiliar with feudal etiquette, but you must be more careful with your words in the future.

“Think carefully—the Countess is a noble of the highest rank.

“Titles like ‘My Lord’ or ‘My Lady’ are reserved for subordinates who have feudal ties.

“Your reckless use of these terms comes off as sycophantic.

“If the Countess had not been magnanimous, this would not have been so easily forgiven.”

Carlo looked bewildered, scratching his head with a puzzled gaze:

“My lord, then what is the proper way to address others?”

Ressarit sighed helplessly at Carlo’s naivety and patiently explained:

“The king is respectfully addressed as ‘Your Majesty,’ while counts and countesses are called ‘Your Grace.’

“For those of higher rank, the formal title is ‘Your Excellency.’

“These are the rules—you must remember them well.”

(In French, these correspond respectively to: Mon seigneur; châtelaine; Votre Majesté; Votre Grâce; Votre Excellence.)

Carlo’s heart sank, his face filled with embarrassment and regret:

“Ah? How could this be? Does using those terms make me seem frivolous or foolish?

“I swear I didn’t mean any disrespect.

“I just said what I heard in dramas, not knowing it would cause such a misunderstanding.

“How humiliating…”

Weeks later, inside the temporary palace of King Philip VI of France.

Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting multicolored shadows that lent the solemn hall a mysterious beauty.

Tall pillars stood like silent guardians, supporting the magnificent dome above.

Philip VI sat on his splendid throne, his gaze radiating authority and confidence.

Undoubtedly a formidable ruler, he was the first king of the Valois dynasty.

Since his accession in 1328, he had subdued various nobles with resolute determination and decisive action.

Erect and dignified, clad in regal robes, he embodied kingly grandeur.

It was said by all:

“The King of France is the king of all earthly kings, and unquestionably the foremost sovereign of Western Europe, his glory surpassing even that of the Holy Roman Emperor.”

Recalling past wars, pride graced Philip’s face.

He had led armies in numerous internal and external conflicts, achieving remarkable victories.

He was nearly invincible.

He commanded the largest, best-equipped, most battle-hardened, and most illustrious knightly force Western Europe had ever seen.

His renown rivaled that of Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar at their zenith.

Yet in recent years, his French armies had suffered repeated defeats at the hands of Edward III, often regarded as a mere clown.

The devastating naval loss at Sluys was a thorn in his side.

Within his court, factions quarreled incessantly, undermining one another—only the court jesters dared to speak plainly.

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But now, he strove to cast aside such grievances, immersing himself in the anticipation of forthcoming victory.

Especially today, his mood was notably buoyant.

At that moment, Duke John of Normandy—his eldest son—quickly approached, kneeling on one knee to report respectfully:

“Your Majesty, Countess Jeanne of Évreux has just arrived with her army.

“We have already assembled a force exceeding twenty thousand heavy cavalry.

“As for light cavalry, infantry, auxiliaries, and conscripts, their numbers are countless.”

Philip VI nodded slightly, a satisfied smile on his face:

“Excellent. Beyond our domestic forces, we have allies.

“The stalwart Poles, the warlike Danes, the kings of Bohemia and Sicily have all pledged support.

“I believe they are hastening their march here.”

He tilted his ear, as if listening to distant sounds.

“Yes, quietly now—I hear the beat of war drums.

“I suspect more troops are arriving.”

Shortly after, King John of Bohemia—of the House of Luxembourg—entered the palace amid a crowd.

His steps were steady, his gaze resolute; though no longer young, he still exuded regal dignity.

His son Charles followed closely, vigorous and eager for battle.

King John of Bohemia bowed slightly, his sonorous voice echoing through the hall:

“King Philip of France, responding to the call of alliance and vassalage, I have brought my forces to aid our friends in need.”

Standing beside them was Delbecq, Bohemia’s renowned swordmaster officer, clad in gleaming armor and striking a heroic figure.

He knelt solemnly on one knee, his right fist pressed over his left chest in a gesture of respect:

“King Philip, Your Majesty, I obey my liege, King John’s command.

“I have selected ten exceptional swordsmen to serve as your personal guards, pledging to safeguard Your Majesty’s safety.”

Bohemian Crown Prince Charles stepped forward, his eyes shining brightly:

“With steadfast and loyal Luxembourg guards, intimidating Polish knights of Eastern Europe, and the steady, powerful warriors of Kiev,

“I bring these men to support you, willing to face fire and water for Your Majesty and your cause.”

Philip VI rose, his face radiant with joy.

He strode down from his throne to greet the Bohemians:

“Welcome, King John of Bohemia, Crown Prince Charles, and the mighty swordmaster Delbecq.

“I shall never forget your generous goodwill.

“Moreover, your payment calculated by the league will be granted in francs from my treasury.

“Look at that reckless Edward—he dares oppose me!

“Our forces are mighty, like Agamemnon’s army at Troy.

“Our strength rivals Xerxes’; his soldiers would need to drink entire rivers to quench their thirst!

“Ha ha ha! The presumptuous Edward dares to challenge my crown.

“Watch how my army turns those English into minced meat!”

Philip VI laughed heartily, waving his arms vigorously, his face brimming with excitement and pride.

At that moment, a servant whispered beside Duke John of Normandy.

He listened respectfully, then stood aside with a slight bow:

“My dear King, Edward has sent a Flemish envoy named Jean de Cleyb as an ambassador.

“Would Your Majesty wish to see him?”

Philip VI raised his chin, a scornful smile curling his lips:

“Ha ha, let him come.

“I want to hear how poor Edward begs for mercy.”

Saying this, he slowly sat back on his throne, which seemed to enhance his majesty and dominance.

Those around him laughed heartily as well, the sound resonating throughout the palace.

Their laughter was filled with confidence in impending victory and derision toward the King of England, as if the entire palace rejoiced in the triumph soon to come.