Chapter 41: Dream

Meanwhile, King Philip, bathed in the glory of victory, set out on the road back to Paris, accompanied by the Count of Alençon and the Count of Foix.

He had successfully repelled the invasion of northern France by the allied English forces and expanded his territories in the southwest. Behind them marched the vast host of the French army, an endless, majestic procession that bore witness to the brilliance of their triumph. Other allies, such as the King of Bohemia and the King of Sicily, had already embarked on their respective journeys home, leaving behind only this war-scratched land to bear witness to King Philip's great achievements.

Riding atop a tall, spirited warhorse, King Philip gazed periodically into the vast expanse of the distant horizon, his eyes brimming with grand ambition and quiet satisfaction. The land, having just endured the baptisms of fire and steel, appeared to him now as a landscape brimming with hope and future promise. A subtle, imperceptible smile of self-contentment touched his lips as he murmured softly to himself:

"Thus, I am one step closer to my dream!"

Though spoken in a low whisper, the words seemed charged with an endless power, lingering faintly in the air.

Yet, his thoughts drifted inadvertently back to an irritating incident that had occurred a few days prior in Bouvines. At the time, Countess Joan of Hainaut, eager to protect her son-in-law, had hurried into King Philip VI’s tent.

With a flustered expression, hurried footsteps, and eyes filled with a mixture of urgency and unease, she offered a hasty bow and blurted out:

"Your Majesty, I have heard that many princes and nobles in your court are quite willing to betray you and defect to the English side."

Upon hearing this, King Philip’s countenance darkened instantly, and he rebuked Lady Joan with fierce anger:

"How can that be! That is utterly preposterous!"

Though startled by his fierce outburst, Lady Joan remained steadfast in her convictions. She had been rallying numerous noblewomen to persuade Philip, and she genuinely believed it was her clever maneuvering that had compelled the King to compromise. Philip knew well that there might be an element of exaggeration in her words, but he was painfully aware that she had struck a raw nerve regarding his extreme sensitivity and dread of betrayal.

Her assertion had undeniably touched the deepest chord within his heart, making him feel that his royal majesty was being subjected to a grave challenge. It was not that he resented Joan for defending her son-in-law; rather, her words felt to him like an interrogation of his ruling authority—an insult that could never be tolerated.

Restless in his saddle, he drew heavy, ragged breaths. He was nearing his fiftieth year now, and the relentless passage of time often filled him with the melancholy sense that his days were numbered. Turning to the Count of Alençon and the Count of Foix by his side, he said:

"I am told that not all Frenchmen share an appreciation for my leniency and mercy. Many believe I have been far too indulgent toward King Edward and his allies."

The two counts exchanged a glance and nodded in silence, not daring to speak lightly. After a moment of hesitation, the Count of Alençon cleared his throat and said gently:

"Your Majesty, you are the mighty sovereign of France, the king of kings! How could those ordinary mortals ever comprehend your grand ambitions? Every single decision you make takes the long-term interests of France and your own magnificent aspirations as its primary consideration. How could those short-sighted individuals ever pierce through your profound and far-reaching foresight? Your wisdom is like a brilliant star illuminating the path forward for France; your magnanimity is like a boundless ocean embracing all things. They fail to grasp your greatness simply because they do not stand high enough nor see far enough."

A look of deep reverence filled the eyes of the Count of Alençon, gleaming brightly as he stared intently at King Philip.

The Count of Foix hastily chimed in:

"Indeed, Your Majesty. Common folk know only how to chatter and pass shallow judgments, yet how could they possibly know that your heart harbors a far greater pursuit? Your gaze has long since transcended these petty, immediate squabbles. Your wisdom and broad-mindedness are realms they can never hope to reach. You are the backbone of France, the banner of our advancement. Under your guidance, France shall assuredly march toward a far more glorious future."

Bowing slightly, the Count of Foix spoke with a tone overflowing with admiration, his face radiant with adoration for his monarch.

King Philip nodded slightly, his expression softening somewhat as a flicker of gratification crossed his eyes:

"What you say is true, yet my friend, King John of Bohemia, has become a legendary knight in the mouths of all people. Whenever I hear others recounting John’s heroic deeds, I am filled with profound envy and longing."

"Often, in the deep silence of night, as I pace alone through the study of my palace and recall John’s glory, my heart swells with emotion and yearning."

A trace of longing surfaced in his gaze, as if in that very moment, he beheld the radiant vision of himself transformed into a legendary knight—the glory he desired above all else in his heart.

A light flashed in the eyes of the Count of Alençon, and he quickly praised:

"Your Majesty, you are already a legendary knight! Only under your wise leadership could we achieve such brilliant triumphs. Especially in those decisive battles, our soldiers displayed astonishing courage and tenacity—all of which stem from your masterful command! Your achievements shall forever be sung by mankind, and your name shall be bound inextricably to the great spirit of chivalry, recorded in history for all eternity. You are the living legend within our hearts, the pride of France!"

The Count of Foix continued:

"Quite so, Your Majesty. You are the most powerful king in all of Europe, possessing the vastest territories and the finest, most formidable host of knights. Your prestige shines like the midday sun, and your might shakes the four quarters of the earth. You are well and truly a legendary knight. Every decision you make shapes the geopolitical landscape of Europe, and your every action manifests the glory of chivalry. In our hearts, you are the very embodiment of the legend, the exemplar we follow."

King Philip remarked with deep emotion:

"Whenever I recall how Edward won the championship at the knights' tournament in Paris when he was sixteen, my heart fills with yearning and fighting spirit. In truth, I care little for the throne of France for its own sake, but it is mine, and none other may take it. It is my duty and my mission; I must guard the glory of France and lead her toward a more magnificent future."

"I yearn to realize the burning dream within my heart—to become a legendary knight in the mouths of all people. Ten years, a full ten years have passed since the last Crusader king perished nearly half a century ago. Yet I still harbor the steadfast dream of organizing a crusade to venture into the Levant. I long to capture the Holy City, to re-establish a powerful Crusader state, and to let the banner of France fly high once more over that sacred land."

His voice grew gradually higher and more resonant.

"For the sake of this dream, I have been making preparations for ten years."

"Throughout these ten years, I have navigated through various political maelstroms, meticulously plotting every single step. Every decision has borne the weight of my devotion to my dream. I have continuously accumulated resources and alliances, all for the sake of one day fulfilling my grand ambition. I fear no hardship, nor do I shy away from challenges, for I know that my dream is great, and it is worth dedicating my entire life to its pursuit."