Bar-le-Duc in the Barrois, France - House of Lancaster in Exile

[Xion]

Richard de Montferrand arrives at Bar with his family and a handful of retainers, two of them carrying banners, one depicting his house's coat of arms ,the other that of his wife's family, which has the unfortunate circumstance of being very similar to the arms of a certain house in England who betrayed Lancaster. Upon arrival outside of the gates of Bar, Richard sends one of his retainers forward to request entry and a audience with the Duc de Bar.

[The Mad Skylord]

As with Mercer, the Knight is brought before Harry de Clifford, Minister for Just About Everything (his official title). Standing in Clifford's small office, the titular baron looks at him suspiciously. "And you are?"

[Xion]

Leaving his family and taking only two retainers with him, Richard follows the knight who leads him to Clifford. "Richard de Montferrand, son of Pierre de Montferrand and Mary, daughter of the Duc de Bedford.." He pauses for a moment. "..and grandson of Betrand III de Montferrand. I have come to swear fealty to your king."

[Mary The Quene]

Joan was terrible bored. But at least now she had company, and Edward of Lancaster troubled her less frequently. She owed that to their new arrival; the lady Eleanor, a daughter of York, the intended marriage, negotiated by her father, for their handsome king. Eleanor was ostensibly quite fortunate; Edward was handsome, after a fashion, as well as being a King, Prince and Duke all rolled into one. But personally, Joan found him to be quite intimidating in his advances... Not that he'd marry her anyway, though. If she was a girl of lower birth (like the Bishop's niece), she'd have likely crossed that threshold, submerged herself within the devilish luxury of Edward's sheets. But she was Joan Beaufort. Piety and chastity was expected, nay, demanded of her, and thus the most she had done is engaged in sultry teasing with this exiled king, dancing along the thin boundary between courtly love and outright abandonment of virtue.

"Have you spoken with him much?"

Beaufort's daughter looked up from her needlework at Eleanor, pensively. Her eyes, dark as pitch, were large and inquisitive.

''Not that much, i think he is busy with other things''

Said the Lady FitzRoy looking up to Joan, she didn't know so much about this Edward yet but she hoped that would change soon. Clearly she expected Edward to come to her and court her at some point, as appropriate to her rank. But at least she had a new companion now to spend time with, Joan of the Beauforts of old, an old and prestigious line, although in exile. No doubt she would marry high when Edward surely would become king.

''What kind of man is he?'' Lady FitzRoy asked, putting her needlework aside. Joan ofcourse had been living in Bar far longer than herself and thus knew this king much better than herself.

[Dirty Chai]

"I have already dealt with it, Sire. I removed the tax, told them we'd consider the size of the dividend and offered the most prominent of the Barrois positions in your court."

He sighed. They needed more money. "I suggest, Sire, that we put mechanisms into place that we may sell the whole duchy to Lorraine and confiscate the goods of the merchants from Burgundy and Milan. Of course, such actions will have to take place right before we leave and attempt to invade England - we don't want to fight off an invasion. It's okay being a robber baron, so long as you rob your enemies."

-------------------

Mercer is brought before Sir Henry de Clifford, who was nominally in charge of... well everything but the King's immediate household and wardrobe really. Harry Clifford glowered at him suspiciously. "Who are you and what do you want? Speak."

"That was what I was about to talk about, actually." De Vere answered, scratching the back of his head. "Much of the Barrois peerage disapproves of that 25% tax I tried to levy. The Seigneur de Mayonne, Seigneur de Jarny, Seigneur de Goin...point is, a lot of seigneurs from a lot of places I've still got some trouble pronouncing really don't want to pay that tax, and want it revoked immediately. Oh, and they want some of the funds Clifford got out of the Jews and usurers too." He glanced at Clifford, who just had to kiss the King's ring, and finally put some thought as to why the two of them had fought in the first place. "Though I've a feeling you might have already known all of this, sire."

Yep, they definitely know all this, de Vere thought when Clifford launched into his own explanation. "How about the Aragonese, Castilian and Neapolitan merchants?" He offered, no doubt trying to be helpful. "The Trastamaras are all friends of York, aren't they? So what's the harm in seizing their mercers' goods?"

Edward looked between the two, incredulous. Was he surrounded by the incompetent? Why did he ever wonder why his cause continued to fail and fail and fail, time and time again?

"Sell the duchy? Spanish merchants?"

Lancaster shook his head, denying it as nonsense.

"You won't find more than a few of them. This is your plan? Have you already scraped the bottom of the barrel?"

[Lord William]

As with Mercer, the Knight is brought before Harry de Clifford, Minister for Just About Everything (his official title). Standing in Clifford's small office, the titular baron looks at him suspiciously. "And you are?"

My name is Sir Edward Mercer, I have travelled all this way to see the rightful King of England

[Dirty Chai]

On an early evening in late December, a local servant comes and informs the lady Eleanor that His Grace would seek her company tonight, to supp with him when she is ready.

[Barry Goldwater]

Edward looked between the two, incredulous. Was he surrounded by the incompetent? Why did he ever wonder why his cause continued to fail and fail and fail, time and time again?

"Sell the duchy? Spanish merchants?"

Lancaster shook his head, denying it as nonsense.

"You won't find more than a few of them. This is your plan? Have you already scraped the bottom of the barrel?"

"Well, it was the nobles who complained last time...perhaps we could try taxing just the commons, sire?" De Vere offered. Surely Bar's merchants, vintners and fishermen would have something worth taking, if they couldn't extort the nobles?

[Dirty Chai]

"The commons?"

Edward looked ready to snort.

"The nobles will want a piece of that too. How much can we sell the duchy to my cousins for?"

[The Mad Skylord]

Leaving his family and taking only two retainers with him, Richard follows the knight who leads him to Clifford. "Richard de Montferrand, son of Pierre de Montferrand and Mary, daughter of the Duc de Bedford.." He pauses for a moment. "..and grandson of Betrand III de Montferrand. I have come to swear fealty to your king."

Clifford nodded idly. "Very well then. Guard!" A guardsman promptly arrived and took Montfeerand to the King.

Edward looked between the two, incredulous. Was he surrounded by the incompetent? Why did he ever wonder why his cause continued to fail and fail and fail, time and time again?

"Sell the duchy? Spanish merchants?"

Lancaster shook his head, denying it as nonsense.

"You won't find more than a few of them. This is your plan? Have you already scraped the bottom of the barrel?"

Clifford shot an irritated glare at de Vega. He like the Oxford man well enough, but he constantly made him look like a moron. He looked back the the king. "You have lands a plenty here. In England it is common practice to sell manors, castles and land. That is what I mean by sell the duchy. Sell those possessions of yours that can be sold."

Clifford sighed. What was he supposed to do? He'd taken out loans, expelled merchants and Jews. "Spanish merchants are pointless. But we can embargo the Burgundians - so long as we do it when we no longer need to worry about their responses."

Henry was tired, irate and stressed. He'd been left with the vast majority of the running and it had annoyed him. Lancaster was too busy trying too wet his whistle. Perhaps if he spent less time trying to get beneath Joan Beaufort's petticoats. "The Yorkists have embargoed the Hanse and seized their wares. That is another potential source of revenue."

Clifford frowned. "Ten thousand pounds perhaps. 15, if we sent a good negotiator."

My name is Sir Edward Mercer, I have travelled all this way to see the rightful King of England

"And how do I know you are who you say you are?"

[Mary The Quene]

On an early evening in late December, a local servant comes and informs the lady Eleanor that His Grace would seek her company tonight, to supp with him when she is ready.

The Lady FitzRoy eventually arrives fashionably late in the evening after taking more than enough time to appear rather dashing for her king. Like always she wears a black colored ermine gown decorated with jewelry, and this time she wears only a little coif making her delicate brown hair fall freely on her shoulders. She was accompanied by her trusted lady in waiting, Mary Paston.

''Your Majesty, glad to see thee'' Said the Lady FitzRoy while both she and lady Paston courteously bowed before their monarch.

[Lord William]

Edward show Clifford the evelope with the seal of William Mercer Earl of Worcester
This and my word is the only proof I have, anything more would have been too risky and we could risk being charged with treason

[Xion]

de Montferrand follows the guard from Clifford's officer to wherever the king is. He deeply bows after being presented to the king. "Your majesty."

[The Mad Skylord]

Clifford opened the unsealed envelope and removed the blank piece of paper with the seal on it. He looked at it for a moment, frowning, before putting it in the envelope and putting it in a drawer in his desk. "As you say, Sir Edward. It is a perfectly logical assumption. Guard! Take him to the king." He returned to his work, not returning the envelope and leaving the guard to escort Mercer to the King.

[Dirty Chai]

Clifford nodded idly. "Very well then. Guard!" A guardsman promptly arrived and took Montfeerand to the King.

They were in the great hall of the old palace, standing over a small table holding some record books and some parchment. One sitting figure, with curly and tawny hair. A livery coat with the right colors. Around him were men with hats and fur coats - burghers perhaps, or lawyers or stewards - arguing and trying to convince him of something. A giant shield hung in the background, carrying the golden cross of Jerusalem.

A retainer standing nearby was the first to notice Montferrand entering, and turned to watch him curiously. Another alerted Edward, tapping him on the shoulder. Lancaster stood up at that, and circled around the table to stand in front of it, all while waving the commoners to hold their tongue for now.

"Good, you're the seigneur de Jossemny, no?" the English-born prince asked, using a strange, colorless form of French.

Clifford shot an irritated glare at de Vega. He like the Oxford man well enough, but he constantly made him look like a moron. He looked back the the king. "You have lands a plenty here. In England it is common practice to sell manors, castles and land. That is what I mean by sell the duchy. Sell those possessions of yours that can be sold."

Clifford sighed. What was he supposed to do? He'd taken out loans, expelled merchants and Jews. "Spanish merchants are pointless. But we can embargo the Burgundians - so long as we do it when we no longer need to worry about their responses."

Henry was tired, irate and stressed. He'd been left with the vast majority of the running and it had annoyed him. Lancaster was too busy trying too wet his whistle. Perhaps if he spent less time trying to get beneath Joan Beaufort's petticoats. "The Yorkists have embargoed the Hanse and seized their wares. That is another potential source of revenue."

Clifford frowned. "Ten thousand pounds perhaps. 15, if we sent a good negotiator."

"I'll take fifteen thousand and no less," he bayed almost immediately. "Try for twenty thousand."

Edward pointed at de Vere. "You're going to Lorraine."

Then he looked at de Clifford. "You, my lord, do what you must. Find more money before we fork it over to my cousins."

"Someone find Beaufort. I have plans for him, for once," he then yelled out.

The Lady FitzRoy eventually arrives fashionably late in the evening after taking more than enough time to appear rather dashing for her king. Like always she wears a black colored ermine gown decorated with jewelry, and this time she wears only a little coif making her delicate brown hair fall freely on her shoulders. She was accompanied by her trusted lady in waiting, Mary Paston.

''Your Majesty, glad to see thee'' Said the Lady FitzRoy while both she and lady Paston courteously bowed before their monarch.

Edward was present with ... himself. The pretender king stood alone beside the far end of the table. This was not a respectful or proper behavior to exhibit, seeking a meeting with an unmarried woman - alone - but Edward was a king, and this woman was nearly his wife in many ways. He didn't seem to care that Eleanor had brought a companion, however.

Lancaster gestured at the seats of the small rectangular table. In the center were a few candles.
"I am glad you accepted my invitation, lady Plantagenet," he said, continuing to call her by her grandfather's chosen surname. "And lady Paston," he added, shooting the woman only a polite glance.

He then took his seat at the head of the table, signalling that they could as well.

"How do you find Bar-le-Duc?" Edward asked them. "We won't be here much longer."

[Gandalfus]

''Not that much, i think he is busy with other things''

Said the Lady FitzRoy looking up to Joan, she didn't know so much about this Edward yet but she hoped that would change soon. Clearly she expected Edward to come to her and court her at some point, as appropriate to her rank. But at least she had a new companion now to spend time with, Joan of the Beauforts of old, an old and prestigious line, although in exile. No doubt she would marry high when Edward surely would become king.

''What kind of man is he?'' Lady FitzRoy asked, putting her needlework aside. Joan ofcourse had been living in Bar far longer than herself and thus knew this king much better than herself.

Joan gave Eleanor a suggestive look. Words wouldn't form concerning her Lord and King, especially to describe him in a... Pleasant fashion.

"He's..." Somerset's daughter smiled knowingly. A deviant; brash, bold, and arrogant. An exile that paraded around Bar-le-Duc as if he were the King of the Romans with ten thousand men at his back, a chivalrous knight and filthy rogue all in one. Joan experienced a pang of envy, then, for this perfect princess that had fallen into the lap of this exiled king.

"A man without much virtue." It was out of turn, but driven more by emotion than anything else. He was handsome and brooding, which was enough for her to indulge in infatuation.

"He's tried to enter the drawbridge of every girl in the castle, my lady, if you excuse my crude turn of speech."

[Xion]

They were in the great hall of the old palace, standing over a small table holding some record books and some parchment. One sitting figure, with curly and tawny hair. A livery coat with the right colors. Around him were men with hats and fur coats - burghers perhaps, or lawyers or stewards - arguing and trying to convince him of something. A giant shield hung in the background, carrying the golden cross of Jerusalem.

A retainer standing nearby was the first to notice Montferrand entering, and turned to watch him curiously. Another alerted Edward, tapping him on the shoulder. Lancaster stood up at that, and circled around the table to stand in front of it, all while waving the commoners to hold their tongue for now.

"Good, you're the seigneur de Jossemny, no?" the English-born prince asked, using a strange, colorless form of French.

As he enters, de Montferrand's attention is focused on the group of men around the Duke of Bar, but momentarily shifts from him to that of the livery coat, which reminded him of the time his mother described his grandfather's arms to him, then to the shield, and back to the group of men, with one of them getting the attention of the duke to address him.

"Jossemny? Where is that?" Montferrand thinks to himself confused, before shaking his head. "No, your majesty." he begins in Gascon accented French. "I am Richard de Montferrand, Soudan de La Trau, Seigneur de Lesparre, son of Pierre de Montferrand and Mary, daughter of the Duc de Bedford." de Montferrand bows.

[The Mad Skylord]

They were in the great hall of the old palace, standing over a small table holding some record books and some parchment. One sitting figure, with curly and tawny hair. A livery coat with the right colors. Around him were men with hats and fur coats - burghers perhaps, or lawyers or stewards - arguing and trying to convince him of something. A giant shield hung in the background, carrying the golden cross of Jerusalem.

A retainer standing nearby was the first to notice Montferrand entering, and turned to watch him curiously. Another alerted Edward, tapping him on the shoulder. Lancaster stood up at that, and circled around the table to stand in front of it, all while waving the commoners to hold their tongue for now.

"Good, you're the seigneur de Jossemny, no?" the English-born prince asked, using a strange, colorless form of French.



"I'll take fifteen thousand and no less," he bayed almost immediately. "Try for twenty thousand."

Edward pointed at de Vere. "You're going to Lorraine."

Then he looked at de Clifford. "You, my lord, do what you must. Find more money before we fork it over to my cousins."

"Someone find Beaufort. I have plans for him, for once," he then yelled out.



Edward was present with ... himself. The pretender king stood alone beside the far end of the table. This was not a respectful or proper behavior to exhibit, seeking a meeting with an unmarried woman - alone - but Edward was a king, and this woman was nearly his wife in many ways. He didn't seem to care that Eleanor had brought a companion, however.

Lancaster gestured at the seats of the small rectangular table. In the center were a few candles.
"I am glad you accepted my invitation, lady Plantagenet," he said, continuing to call her by her grandfather's chosen surname. "And lady Paston," he added, shooting the woman only a polite glance.

He then took his seat at the head of the table, signalling that they could as well.

"How do you find Bar-le-Duc?" Edward asked them. "We won't be here much longer."

Harry Clifford just stared at him. He choked his next words out. "You can't honestly be sending de Vere to negotiate. That's a job for Beaufort! De Vere can't find fifteen thousand out of Lorraine, never mind twenty."

He recovered his composure, however, for the next statement. "I take it then we will not be for here much longer.... Can I then expel the Burgundian merchants? We will be in danger from a Burgundian response once it is done, but it should bring us coin."

A final pause, as Clifford pondered an idea his uncle had long subscribed to. "We need more men, if you would permit us hiring Switzers or Landschnekts?"

[Dirty Chai]

As he enters, de Montferrand's attention is focused on the group of men around the Duke of Bar, but momentarily shifts from him to that of the livery coat, which reminded him of the time his mother described his grandfather's arms to him, then to the shield, and back to the group of men, with one of them getting the attention of the duke to address him.

"Jossemny? Where is that?" Montferrand thinks to himself confused, before shaking his head. "No, your majesty." he begins in Gascon accented French. "I am Richard de Montferrand, Soudan de La Trau, Seigneur de Lesparre, son of Pierre de Montferrand and Mary, daughter of the Duc de Bedford." de Montferrand bows.

"Duke of Bedford?"

Edward frowned, completely caught by that last piece. The fingers on his left hand began to bend and twitch - counting?

"You claim descent from the Duke of Lancaster, sir?" he asked, almost accusingly.

Harry Clifford just stared at him. He choked his next words out. "You can't honestly be sending de Vere to negotiate. That's a job for Beaufort! De Vere can't find fifteen thousand out of Lorraine, never mind twenty."

He recovered his composure, however, for the next statement. "I take it then we will not be for here much longer.... Can I then expel the Burgundian merchants? We will be in danger from a Burgundian response once it is done, but it should bring us coin."

A final pause, as Clifford pondered an idea his uncle had long subscribed to. "We need more men, if you would permit us hiring Switzers or Landschnekts?"

"Fine, we will send Beaufort to Lorraine. You can argue with de Vere over taxes, then."

Edward was irritated, dismissive. He waved a hand off at Clifford.

"As for switzers, well, that served my mother well last time, didn't it? The expense of taking switzers across the narrow sea to England is not worth the boon."

[Mary The Quene]

Edward was present with ... himself. The pretender king stood alone beside the far end of the table. This was not a respectful or proper behavior to exhibit, seeking a meeting with an unmarried woman - alone - but Edward was a king, and this woman was nearly his wife in many ways. He didn't seem to care that Eleanor had brought a companion, however.

Lancaster gestured at the seats of the small rectangular table. In the center were a few candles.
"I am glad you accepted my invitation, lady Plantagenet," he said, continuing to call her by her grandfather's chosen surname. "And lady Paston," he added, shooting the woman only a polite glance.

He then took his seat at the head of the table, signalling that they could as well.

"How do you find Bar-le-Duc?" Edward asked them. "We won't be here much longer."

''It is but a small gesture to accept, Your Majesty'' Lady FitzRoy said while she and Lady Paston took their seat, lady FitzRoy sat opposite Edward. She was however glad to have brought her companion with her after what lady Beaufort had revealed her earlier.

''Bar-le-Duc suits well for now, it is all so lively here'' She said, many noblemen and noblewomen were here in Bar, ready to serve their Lancastrian king.

But she had the wish to see her sister and brother again, she did not wish to remain in exile forever so Edward had piqued her interest clearly.

''To England then?'' She asked so, her eyes looked into those of Edward.

Joan gave Eleanor a suggestive look. Words wouldn't form concerning her Lord and King, especially to describe him in a... Pleasant fashion.

"He's..." Somerset's daughter smiled knowingly. A deviant; brash, bold, and arrogant. An exile that paraded around Bar-le-Duc as if he were the King of the Romans with ten thousand men at his back, a chivalrous knight and filthy rogue all in one. Joan experienced a pang of envy, then, for this perfect princess that had fallen into the lap of this exiled king.

"A man without much virtue." It was out of turn, but driven more by emotion than anything else. He was handsome and brooding, which was enough for her to indulge in infatuation.

"He's tried to enter the drawbridge of every girl in the castle, my lady, if you excuse my crude turn of speech."

''Oh, ah, i see'' Said the Lady FitzRoy, feigning shock, it appeared this Edward was not so much different from her own father then. She wondered if he tried this with Joan or if she could stop that in married life, likely not for the latter.

''Did he...try this with you, my lady?, i am sorry if i offend you'' She asked with a frown, she did not like to have a cuckolding husband. A servant quickly poured them wine in their cups, she had found a rather large stash of wine in her room when she occupied it.