The Yorkist seize London! (Yorkist Camp)

[Lucius Malfoy]

Victory had finally been achieved! Despite the unfortunate events that had befallen the Yorkist cause as of recent, Edward of March was able to take control of London, who opened their gates willingly and welcomed the young king into their walls. Those with Edward still could hearing the ringing of cheers and the clamor of the people as they welcomed their saviors to the heart of England. Yet all was not well with the Yorkists for Henry VI had been retaken by the Lancastrians and his supporters were still at large and surely gathering men for a final confrontation. London was but a temporary stop before Edward would have to march once more to clash with the armies of the Red Rose.

Banners all over London had been replaced with the staunch White Rose and the crests of other Yorkist nobility which hung high in the air and brought a sense of peace to the people of London who had long endured the hardships of Lancaster rule. A regime that had brought them nothing but misery and despair. Those that followed the late Duke of York's son knew they would not be here for long though. True, they needed some respite and a moment of peace, but they would be on the move once more. On the move to clash with Henry's soldiers and supporters for control of England.

Presently, Edward was housed at Westminister Palace, where he held court daily with his supporters and tended to necessary matters that needed his attention. Though not a King yet, the young Plantagenet showed an aptitude for ruling just as he showed his military prowess on the battlefield at Mortimer's Cross. It was no wonder that such a young man could garner the favor and support of powerful men like Warwick and Norfolk. Yet the clock clicked down to the final confrontation which was inevitable more than ever with each passing day.

[Gandalfus]

Fauconberg had concerned himself little with business of court. There had been formalities, of course, such as Edward stating his claim before Parliament, and being acclaimed as King by all the lords who stood alongside him. But after that, Fauconberg had busied himself with the business of war. With access to London, the King had borrowed thousands of pounds from the Jews, bankers, and burghers, equipping Fauconberg with the resources to keep the army fed, well trained, and well equipped for the eventual march north to deal with Lancaster. While the Neville host led by Warwick himself had been defeated, Edward had won at Mortimer's cross, and the lords loyal to York now gathered in London, raising an army to combat the huge hosts that Lancaster now summoned to them in the north. It was all or nothing, the die had been cast, and one of the two kings would taste defeat and probably death before the year was out.
Knowing that the time of reckoning drew near, Fauconberg sought out his nephew, Warwick, knowing he would either be with Edward or his own soldiers, preparing them for what was to come.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Warwick had done what he could to make himself be seen. Especially when it came to standing alongside Edward of March, son of his old ally, Richard, the Duke of York. Yet today, Warwick was in his chambers, taking a break as he began to eat his lunch. The morning had been filled with various appointments, so it was just good to relax, even just to eat and drink, before once more aiding the realm as a senior supporter of Edward. He was about to dine on some cooked pork and vegetables when a servant walked in, bowing to Warwick. He calmly gestures to the doorway, indicating someone was arriving.

My Lord, your cousin, Baron Fauconberg, comes to see you. Shall I let him in?

Warwick waves his hand, consenting to the request. He orders another servant to draw up another chair and to bring some more wine and utensils for his relative. Warwick rises from his seat shortly before William was let in.

Ah! William Neville, as I live and breathe. Surprised to see you in Westminister since you enjoyed a soldier's tent more so. Come come, sit and have some wine and food.

[Gandalfus]

With a weathered smile, Fauconberg sits opposite his brother's son, seeing much of the elder Richard Neville in him. Obliging the request, he takes a sip from the goblet of wine before speaking.

"The men grow restless, Richard, and so do my own old bones." They had remained in the city for some time, and were undoubtedly more ready than ever for the coming battle. "Lancaster awaits us in the North, building the mightiest army England has yet seen. I long to end this war. I could use a rest." With a laugh, and a cough, Fauconberg turns his attention to his food, chewing thoughtfully on a morsel of meat as the words stewed.

[Lucius Malfoy]

We, Nevilles, have given much to Richard Plantagenet and his son, Edward of March. Though some of our kin has sided with the Red Rose...

The traitorous Earl of Westmorland and his branch of the family had sided with Henry VI. Warwick doubted his cousins would last long with a Yorkist regime due to their allegiance. He reaches for his cup, drinking the wine for a moment before eating some meat on his plate. The Earl remains silent for a moment before looking at William.

You and your son's reputation will surely grant you an Earldom under Edward's regime, William. I will make sure of it as the leading noble of the realm when Edward is crowned King.

[Gandalfus]

"It is greater a reward than I deserve, nephew, but I am in gratitude to you nonetheless." Fauconberg replied graciously, his thoughtful gaze turning away from his food. He would be rewarded - if they won. It was just as likely that they'd all have their heads on spikes outside Micklegate Bar, just like the others.

"I would like to see my sons settled, with wives and lands of their own." He confessed, revealing fairly typical ambitions for his noble born sons. After all, it was how the Nevilles forged their wealth. Over the past two generations they had gained the vast estates of the Montacutes and the Beauchamps through well considered marriage and good fortune, making them perhaps the most powerful family in all England after York himself.

[Lucius Malfoy]

"It is greater a reward than I deserve, nephew, but I am in gratitude to you nonetheless." Fauconberg replied graciously, his thoughtful gaze turning away from his food. He would be rewarded - if they won. It was just as likely that they'd all have their heads on spikes outside Micklegate Bar, just like the others.

"I would like to see my sons settled, with wives and lands of their own." He confessed, revealing fairly typical ambitions for his noble born sons. After all, it was how the Nevilles forged their wealth. Over the past two generations they had gained the vast estates of the Montacutes and the Beauchamps through well considered marriage and good fortune, making them perhaps the most powerful family in all England after York himself.

We will find a way to ensure all are rewarded, William. Especially those who served the King most diligently. As for wives, I will see what I can arranged once Edward is King and this... menace to our peace is eliminated.

The grandness of Westminster had always been imposing for Henry Bourchier, whose own seat wasn’t even an imposing castle like Middleham or Warwick. The aging man, already on his fifties, wore a dark doublet with long-cut sleeves, and covered his head with a black hat Burgundian in style; he wore the garter around his left calf. His reddish hair grows scarce on the top, but his beard is an imposing mess of red and white. His brother, Thomas Bourchier, walks before him, as befitting an Archbishop of Canterbury, and wore the purple robes of his office. Courtiers bow and step aside as the Primate and his brother advance towards Warwick’s quarters.

Just as Warwick was about to eat some more, a servant appeared once more, standing by the doorway. His eyebrow goes up slightly; was Edward unavailable that more had to come to him? The servant notices the door open slightly as a guard speaks to him. The servant nods before the door closes, speaking clearly to Richard and his cousin, William.

My Lord Warwick, his Lordship, Baron Bourchier and His Excellency, the Archbishop of Canterbury, have come to see you.

Warwick immediately stands up when word of the Archbishop was coming. He orders the servants to gather more utensils and cups for their guests. A chair was set at the front of the table for the Archbishop. Richard had been aware of the Archbishop's allegiance to the Yorkists, but never thought he would come to London in person. The Primate of the Church surely was a busy man, so for him to come was surely important. As the door opens, Warwick bows to the Archbishop, kissing the ring upon his hand.

Your Excellency, it is an honor to see you come to London and Westminister Palace. I hope the journey here was pleasant from your cathedral.

He then rises, turning his eyes to the aging Henry Bourchier.

My Lord Bourchier, it is a pleasure to also see you have come. I suspect with the both of you here there is something important to be spoken. Please, come and sit with us. We were just having lunch.

Warwick gestures to his uncle, William, after speaking, introducing him as Baron Fauconberg to the Archbishop and Lord Bourchier.

[Oznerol]

The grandness of Westminster had always been imposing for Henry Bourchier, whose own seat wasn’t even an imposing castle like Middleham or Warwick. The aging man, already on his fifties, wore a dark doublet with long-cut sleeves, and covered his head with a black hat Burgundian in style; he wore the garter around his left calf. His reddish hair grows scarce on the top, but his beard is an imposing mess of red and white. His brother, Thomas Bourchier, walks before him, as befitting an Archbishop of Canterbury, and wore the purple robes of his office. Courtiers bow and step aside as the Primate and his brother advance towards Warwick’s quarters.

[Gandalfus]

"Your Eminence. My Lord Bourchier." Fauconberg greeted courteously, with the same wearied smile he had shown all day. It surprised him somewhat that they were not with Edward - the king's relatives barely left his sight, more often than not.

[Barry Goldwater]

While the high lords of the Yorkist cause played their own political games, two knights too lowly to sit in their company without an invitation were sparring beneath an apple tree. Both men were clearly not well-off, clad as they were in battered suits of partial plate and moth-eaten jupons depicting a circle of honey-colored martlets on a blue field, but their gear seemed to serve them well enough as they clashed with one another. They had even attracted a small audience, half a dozen commoners and a pair of even younger archers of the White Rose's army, and though the younger of the two had wished to send them away his older kinsman had bluntly told them to stay - he didn't mind the attention one bit.

"Down you go, Roger!" The elder of the two knights shouted as he brought his poleaxe's axe-end down on Roger Kyriell's shield. The blow tore another line across the already worn shield and disfigured one of the martlets on it, but though its master was forced to one knee by the strength of the swing, he was not yet defeated by a longshot: he struck outward with the blunted axe in his other hand, catching the other man's legs and sending him crashing down. Both men panted heavily as they staggered back to their feet, the larger knight pushing himself up with the help of his poleaxe's shaft while the younger nearly fell backwards onto his behind as he tried to rise, and prepared to have another go at each other. "Getting tired, brother?" The older youth said with a harsh laugh as he lifted his visor to reveal a sweaty face turned red with exertion, messy honey-colored hair that matched the faded martlets on his jupon, and light blue eyes. "I'll concede that you did well in knocking me off my feet there, but this fight isn't over until one of us surrenders to the other. I won't hold it against you if you stand down now."

"You wish, Edmund," The younger knight called Roger spat back. He too had lifted his visor to breathe more easily, revealing his beardless youth to his brother and their tiny audience, but now he brought it back down and beat his axe against his shield in a challenging gesture. Edmund Kyriell just laughed a second time, lowered his own sallet's visor and advanced on his brother, poleaxe in hand.

[Oznerol]

"I thank you, my gentle Earl"

Said the Archbishop. His purple robes were lined with soft ermine. He hand his hat to a servant nearby, uncovering his bald head. More than ever, the clergyman looked like a bird of prey.

"Aye, we both thank you, Lord Warwick"

Added the Viscount.

"You should not be surprised by our presence here, considering how solid our support for the late York has been"

Said the Archbishop, barely moving his thin and pale lips.

“The Earl of March may soon, God’s willing (made the sign of the cross over his chest, soon followed by his brother) wear the crown of his forebears”

God’s willing… Actually, it was the Archbishop’s willing who could make possible for March to be crowned; a subtle hint for Warwick.

“We all wish so! My sweet nephew would make a great King!”

Said the Viscount, husband to Isabel, his Grace’s sole aunt.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Warwick takes his seat once more after the Archbishop sat himself. He turns to the Viscount, shaking his head slightly.

I am not at all surprised by your appearance, my Lord, but more surprised of Canterbury's appearance. After all, surely there is still much to do with the clergy and maintenance of England's churches.

A servant approaches, pouring some wine for the Bourchiers before refilling Warwick and Fauconberg's cups.

Tell me, Your Eminence, has the church suffered at all in light of the recent battles? Has it disrupted the fabric of the abbeys in England?

[Oznerol]

Warwick takes his seat once more after the Archbishop sat himself. He turns to the Viscount, shaking his head slightly.

I am not at all surprised by your appearance, my Lord, but more surprised of Canterbury's appearance. After all, surely there is still much to do with the clergy and maintenance of England's churches.

A servant approaches, pouring some wine for the Bourchiers before refilling Warwick and Fauconberg's cups.

Tell me, Your Eminence, has the church suffered at all in light of the recent battles? Has it disrupted the fabric of the abbeys in England?

"Indeed there is. But it is equally important to see this war done"

Said the Archbishop.

"March has my support, it is known, and the whole church of England is behind Mortimer's rightful heir"

Henry Bourchier nodded, his wife's mother was Anne Mortimer none less.

"I needed to personally bless Edward's claim. I am willing to grant him a boon, a gracious gesture that will be of use in the times to come"

"Coin can win battles, aye!"

Agreed Bourchier.

"The faithfull pray for March and the defeat of Lancaster. The sooner the war its over, better for the Church and its children"

[Lucius Malfoy]

"Indeed there is. But it is equally important to see this war done"

Said the Archbishop.

"March has my support, it is known, and the whole church of England is behind Mortimer's rightful heir"

Henry Bourchier nodded, his wife's mother was Anne Mortimer none less.

"I needed to personally bless Edward's claim. I am willing to grant him a boon, a gracious gesture that will be of use in the times to come"

"Coin can win battles, aye!"

Agreed Bourchier.

"The faithfull pray for March and the defeat of Lancaster. The sooner the war its over, better for the Church and its children"

A servant approaches Warwick, whispering quietly to him. He nods calmly before turning to those present, before nodding to Canterbury.

You are in luck, it seems His Grace has finally risen from his chambers and is attending to some audiences.

Richard rises, motioning for William and the others to follow him. He stops for a moment as a servant adjusts his clothing before readying to depart.

Come with me, Your Eminence, so that you may give your blessing to Edward's cause so that it might be a boon from the Almighty above. Your Lordships are also invited to join us.

Without another word, Warwick departs his chamber with his company present and makes his way to where Edward was said to be.

=============================================

Warwick enters the main chamber where word had come that a representative from the FitzGeralds had come to pay homage to Edward. He waits for, wondering if the English lords of Ireland would keep to their oaths and follow the Yorkist cause. However, rumors are that there were Lancastrians under the Butler banner. Surely the FitzGeralds would take care of the traitors. Once the audience was done, Warwick stepped forth, bowing to Richard's son before stepping aside to introduce the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Fauconberg and Lord Bourchier.

Your Grace, may I introduce His Eminence, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Bourchier. With him is his brother, Baron Henry Brouchier. And you know of my uncle, William Neville, Lord Fauconberg.

Warwick would then gesture to the Archbishop, bowing once more to Edward.

His Eminence has come to offer a holy boon to your person by blessing your cause and yourself that you may vanquish the Lancastrian menace and ensure the rightful claim of your blood is blessed by God himself.

[Jokern]

All the lords in the realm that sported the white rose upon their chest had gathered in London for the proclamation of Edward of March as the rightful King of England. Chief among them was perhaps John de Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. The duke had fought and lost besides the Earl of Warwick at St Albans not too long ago, losing the captured Henry of Lancaster in the process. Now he and his men were recuperating and celebrating their new liege, though Norfolk himself was not joining the celebrations. The consequences of their recent loss, as well as the coming bloodshed and suffering weighed heavy on his mind.

The duke walked through the halls of Westminister alongside his son, the Earl of Surrey, discussing matters of war and courtly politics. The young earl, barely into manhood, was eager to prove his worth by riding out and defeating the enemy, while his father favored caution and letting the enemy come to them. So they had argued for quite a while, moving through the royal palace on their way to the royal chambers. They had recently requested an audience with Edward, hoping to discuss their concerns with him.

[Pontifex Maximus]

His Excellency, the Bishop of Lincoln, sends a letter detailing his thanks that Edward and his most loyal supporters have seized London and emerged alive. The message further details that the clergy of Lincolnshire shall fast and offer masses for the safety of Edward, his constituents, and his cause.

[The Mad Skylord]

Chief MacCabe arrives in place of Earl FitzGerald. His retinue is small, but he bears the banners of his lord and he makes his way to pay homage to Edward of March, on his lord's behalf.

[Blastoise Groudon]

Edward of March is quite pleased with all of the gatherings of his friends and allies. Taking London is a huge accomplishment and all should be pleased, at least that what he hopes everyone feels. Making his entrance into the royal chambers finally and takes a seat.

"I am ready to converse with all those who wish to speak with me. Come forth friends!"

[Jokern]

Edward of March is quite pleased with all of the gatherings of his friends and allies. Taking London is a huge accomplishment and all should be pleased, at least that what he hopes everyone feels. Making his entrance into the royal chambers finally and takes a seat.

"I am ready to converse with all those who wish to speak with me. Come forth friends!"

Arriving after the rest of the lords at the Yorkist cause, the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Surrey enter Edward's chambers. Both wore doublets displaying their arms, the royal arms of England differentiated by a white label. At the sight of the Archbishop of Canterbury, they stop in their tracks in surprise, deciding to take a seat and wait for the archbishop to finish his audience with the king.

[The Mad Skylord]

First forth is the Chieftain MacCabe, who views the.Englishman with distaste. The MacCabes were loyal Gaels, and found fighting for the English repulsive, however, Conor was loyal to his lord, and that was Eoin - who currently believed in serving the English crown.

"I am here as a representative of House FitzGerald, Your Grace, They swear to you their fealty."