The Appellants

[Gandalfus]

Fresh from the victory at Radcot Bridge, the Appellants return to London: throngs of attendants in their livery follow in their wake, following them in their droves as they enter Westminster Palace. Interrupting whatever courtly function Richard was participating in, the five stepped forward, men-at-arms clearing the centre of the court to make space for those who counted themselves among the most powerful magnates of England. Silence fell as they approached the throne, each bowing at the waist and performing the necessary pleasantries of the court; despite their opposition to the Monarch, there is still an unbreachable barrier between them, and thus the utmost respect is required. Nonetheless, there is an air of triumph, of victory, mirroring the deflated attitudes of the King and his courtiers, who were quickly escorted away. Many, such as de la Pole, have already left the city, aware of the consequences.

"High Majesty." Uttered Bolingbroke, the arms of Lancaster emblazoned over his plate. Neither handsome nor ugly, the Earl of Derby resembled Gaunt in his youth, utterly unlike the archetypal Plantagenets; those red-headed, well crafted giants. Henry's dark brown hair was cropped short about his crown, with two equally as dark eyes staring down an aquiline nose at he who wore the crown of England. "The traitor De Vere is dead, his army broken." Derby stared, unflinching, his sword still affixed about his waist. All had come in armour, and were now alone with the King himself within the halls of Westminster Palace.

[Dirty Chai]

A Mortimer was among the small cadre as they entered the hall of Westminster, though he hung back behind the Earls who lined up before the king. It was Thomas Mortimer, bastard of the 2nd Earl, often called the Bastard of March. He was a tall but slight man, with a small beard around his mouth and chin and eyes of a murky green. It was widely believed now, in the aftermath of Radcot, as new so did spread, that Sir Mortimer, uncle of the current Earl, had slain the king's constable of Chester, Sir Thomas Molineux - the story was that the bastard had removed the constable's helmet and plunged a rondel dagger deep into the man's skull through his eye, despite Molineux's cries of surrender.

Previously, it had been spoken at Richard's court that the Earl of March's uncle consorted with the Earl of Arundel, having been coming to and from the barony several times throughout the year. Now, Richard must've felt somewhat vindicated in his suspicions, seeing Mortimer among the wolves.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Thomas of Woodstock stood at the forefront of his colleagues, men of high birth, rank and prestige. Each man sharing a common goal through a number of complaints they found was hurting England. They stood not here to remove the King in any way. No, these men desired to right the wrongs that had gone unchecked for over ten years. The Duke of Gloucester, dressed in his Plantagenet liveries and armor, looks upon his nephew, only glancing at those that surrounded him, as they were forced to depart. Favorites of the King who were elevated cause they knew how to kiss Richard's feet properly. Thomas, as well as all the other Lords present, had come because they had had enough.

Before speaking, the Duke of Gloucester would bow lowly to his nephew, showing Richard the respect that any kinsman should show to their sovereign.

Your Majesty, we have come to save you from those around who. Those who have used their influence over you to mismanage this realm and who have hurt England more than make her greater. Those would gladly let corruption and vice to run rampant across our beloved realm of England all for the sake of filling their pockets with coin and rewards. As the Earl of Derby has said, one such culprit has been removed and we fear there are many many more like him.

[Barry Goldwater]

Thomas de Beauchamp, 12th Earl of Warwick stood alongside his fellow Appellants at the head of the small army of attendants that had invaded the King's palace, backed by a real army which stood outside. The bald and bearded earl, eldest of the peers who had come to bring their complaints to the young king, was present at the far right of the assembled Lords Appellant, still clad in his armor and a jupon bearing his house's arms: six gold crosslets and a gold bar on deep scarlet, a scarlet he'd have hoped would come from the blood of the King's foolish favorites who had brought the kingdom to a standstill. The warlike earl had felt a touch of envy at the young Bolingbroke had upstaged him in routing the royal army at Radcot Bridge, thereby claiming all the glory of the only battle in this coup so far. Truly, at fifty he wasn't as young and spry as he used to be - but, Warwick reminded himself, that hardly mattered when they were finally on the cusp of doing what needed to be done for the deliverance of the kingdom.

While the Duke of Gloucester, who by his royal birth and seniority in the peerage effectively led the Appellant faction, began speaking, Warwick stood and stared like a statue. His cold grey eyes bored into the figure of King Richard II, a man less than half his own age, and his knees remained firmly unbent while one hand hovered near his sheathed sword: he was aware of Richard's insistence of certain...ceremonies at court, but he was hardly in a position to demand men who had just wrecked his loyal army kneel before him in silence for hours. The message his body language was conveying couldn't be clearer: We are in command here, not you, and you had best start listening to us, because your friends can't help you now.

[The Mad Skylord]

Richard FitzAlan, Earl of Arundel and Surrey walked into the hall with his retainers and allies. He cut a dashing figure, wearing mail polished to the colour of burnished silver, with a surcoat featuring his heraldry over the top. His mail boots gently rattled as he advanced towards the throne, his mail short rustling as he bowed low to His Grace, the King of England. One gauntleted hand quietly rested on the hilt of his long arming sword, and a squire carried his polished bascinet.

Following the Earl among his retainers was a certain Sir Mortimer, who has murdered Sir Thomas Molineux in cold blood. Already Arundel was wondering if it would be possible to defend the man - to strengthen his alliance with the House of Mortimer, a house he considered an ally.

Arundel quietly listened to both Woodstock and Bolingbroke, before reacting with a rare smile followed by a flash of his cruel wit. "Indeed, Your Grace, such characters must be removed from court - one could say they were buggering the Kingdom."

[Oznerol]

Richard was regally sitting on his throne and didn't move an inch when the so-called defenders of Law and Peace arrived in such a rude fashion, clad in steel and mail. The king's shoulders were covered by soft ermine, the mantle emblazoned by a sea or running leopards, falling in waves to the ground. Underneath, Richard wore silken clothes, profusely embroidered with golden thread; chained harts. A jewelled badge rested over his chest, his own badge of the white hart, crowned, chained or. The crown rested on his head, a circlet, made of twelve golden rings, incrusted with gems and twelve lilies rising from it. Everything was statuesque, every fold was in the place it was supposed to be, turning the king into a metallic, shimmering figure. The wispy reddish beard was perfumed and oiled, the hands majestically held the sceptre and the globe, the golden, ceremonial sword lazily hanging from his belt, on a heavily decorated scabbard.

“My Lords, such an entrance has greatly displeased us. We did not expect such a lack of respect for our sacred authority”

He said, the voice low, forcing the appellants to hear him carefully.

“Thou bring words of bloodshed and mayhem, of our faithful servants being nothing but miscreants. And, yet, we do only behold vassals wronging their sovereign”

Richard looked at them with parsimony.

“Are not thou, cousin He—he—reford, my grandfather’s grandson?”

The king tilted his head, annoyed with himself for stammering, something he did when agitated.

“Hast thou raised in arms against us behind thine sire’s back? What will our Lord of Spain think, co-ousin?”

He turned to Woodstock.

“We do not see any traitors in our household. Thou hast spoken ill against our most beloved friends and companions. They are not a menace or a threat for this realm”

Then, to Arundel.

“Thine words betray thee intentions, Lord Arundel. Are thou not our brother’s brother? Why thou comest here with ill-intent?”

Finally, to all.

“Is that tru-u-e? Hast our beloved Ireland met his end ingloriously in a forlorn field? That we do not want to hear, for we do not have a noblest, most sincere vassal”

[Barry Goldwater]

Warwick's expression scarcely changed as he listened to the king, though his jaw twitched in irritation once or twice. Finally, he spoke, his voice like a whip.

"Your counselors, great king, have offered to you ill-counsel. Chiefly in my eyes this foolish plan to make peace with the French, one of our oldest and bitterest enemies, who to this day still hold a crown that should have been yours. What manner of advisor tells their liege that he should not pursue a throne which is rightly his? Worse, we even heard rumors that these same advisers were not only in favor of brokering a peace with France, but also bringing French forces to English shores to battle we, your own subjects, in your name and in so doing sully the name Plantagenet." That last part was probably untrue, but the threat of a French invasion under the colors of De Vere, De la Pole and the other royal counselors had been a handy argument for the Appellants to have. "Such worms-called-men are a threat to your person and the realm and must be expunged for the greater good, as surely as deserters and collaborators with the enemy within an army are hanged for their crimes."

"No doubt that is only one of the crimes of the Appellants, of course...the man you name your noblest and most sincere vassal disgraced your cousin Philippa so that he might pursue a handmaid not long ago, for example. But I am not as knowledgeable about the financial and domestic workings of the realm as my noble peers, who can explain these other myriad crimes of theirs in greater detail than I." Warwick cast a glance at Bolingbroke. "I was not present at Radcot Bridge, but from what I have heard - not only did your cousin Derby vanquish Ireland at Radcot Bridge, but De Vere himself apparently jumped into the river when the battle went poorly for him." Out of the Appellants, Bolingbroke was the only man present who would've been in a position to witness Ireland's fate, and he had already stated the man was dead when this confrontation began, so Warwick was inclined to take him at his word. Men who leaped into rivers after losing a battle didn't tend to have high survival rates after all, and if De Vere didn't drown he could've been finished off anyway, as one Thomas Molineux had been.

[Gandalfus]

Bolingbroke looked down at his boots when addressed, his gaze returning to the king after Warwick's words had been heard. He could not refuse to hear them, and now they were affirmed in their cause. They could not turn back now.

"Ireland fell in the battle." He'd disrobed and jumped into the river, or so Henry had been told, and so had likely drowned at the bottom of the Thames. "I behold the contrary, a sovereign wronging His vassals. We seek justice for the misrule of advisors that have misled your Majesty, and it shall not be denied to us." Richard would likely not repent, but they had discussed that on the steps of Westminster. A Parliament could be called with or without the King's consent, after all.


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[Jokern]

Thomas de Mowbray, 1st Earl of Nottingham, stood silent while his fellow Lords Appellant spoke. Clad in armor like the rest of them, his coat displaying the quartered arms of his noble house, the earl was among the youngest of the Appellants, the same age as King Richard in fact. Thomas was tall and broad-shouldered, though the King stood far above him, his dark hair cut short and a great mustache covering his upper lip. Nottingham had been a close companion of the king before and he held a great respect for his sovereign. However, with favorites like de la Pole and de Vere rising, Thomas had found himself isolated and ignored at court. Frustrated at the mismanagement of the realm and the war with France, Nottingham had joined his father-in-law, the Earl of Arundel, and his allies in the Lords Appellant. Now they would set things right, they would rid the royal court of all its vipers and save the King from those who would lead England to ruin. After Warwick spoke, Nottingham joined in after.

"Your Majesty, we humbly ask for your forgiveness and for a parcel of patience so that we can explain our righteous cause to take up arms. What we bring before our most gracious sovereign is nothing more or less than the truth. The carrion birds that have flocked to the royal court have fed lies and deceit, all to fill their own pockets and to bring our beloved England to ruin. We need only look at Michael Pole, during his tenure as chancellor of your most regal privy council, argued for outright scandalous levels of taxation not seen since King John. He was rightfully removed from office, but there are still vipers infesting the most royal court of Your Majesty."

[Oznerol]

"We sh--sh--a-all mourn our lord of Ireland in due time, his body shall be restored to us if he is indeed dead"

Said Richard, answering Hereford. A vein pulsated in his forehead, Ireland presumed death was a terrible notion.

"Neither my Lord of Suffolk has been the viperous traitor thou presume, he happily brokered the marriage with our sweet Lady Anne and we have no complains of his performance as our lord chancellor. We shalt not wage war against our cousin France. Clearly, thou see traitors where there are none"

He said, raising his voice a little. A small pause.

"Are not we God's annointed? Have not the sacred oils touched our forehead? A heavenly court sits within our temples, a crown graces our head: as is our birthright. Divine will is thus embodied in our royal persona, how do thou dare to presume us wrong? Thou dare to pursue our frie--ee--nds and companions?"

Richard was now visibly angry.

"This sacred circlet, this golden crown my temples hold in place is not a hollow one, we are Lord and Sovereign. We are the Sun that covers this land with light. If thou want something from us, kneel and pay homage to us. We do not wish ill-thoughts to plague the friendship with our most noble vassals, we only wish Peace to be mantained, for that is God's will"

If they were to impose their will over him, unlawfully, at least they should contemplate ceremony.

"We shall hear your demands"

[Gandalfus]

"We sh--sh--a-all mourn our lord of Ireland in due time, his body shall be restored to us if he is indeed dead"

Said Richard, answering Hereford. A vein pulsated in his forehead, Ireland presumed death was a terrible notion.

"Neither my Lord of Suffolk has been the viperous traitor thou presume, he happily brokered the marriage with our sweet Lady Anne and we have no complains of his performance as our lord chancellor. We shalt not wage war against our cousin France. Clearly, thou see traitors where there are none"

He said, raising his voice a little. A small pause.

"Are not we God's annointed? Have not the sacred oils touched our forehead? A heavenly court sits within our temples, a crown graces our head: as is our birthright. Divine will is thus embodied in our royal persona, how do thou dare to presume us wrong? Thou dare to pursue our frie--ee--nds and companions?"

Richard was now visibly angry.

"This sacred circlet, this golden crown my temples hold in place is not a hollow one, we are Lord and Sovereign. We are the Sun that covers this land with light. If thou want something from us, kneel and pay homage to us. We do not wish ill-thoughts to plague the friendship with our most noble vassals, we only wish Peace to be mantained, for that is God's will"

If they were to impose their will over him, unlawfully, at least they should contemplate ceremony.

"We shall hear your demands"

Derby obliged, marching forward and falling to one knee before the King that they had contemplated unseating upon the ride to London. When Richard offered his hand, Henry clasped it into his cold gauntlets.

"I pay homage to thee as your subject and tenant, High Majesty, and I prithee request the calling of a Parliament to right the aforementioned wrongs that have plagued the realm and thy crown." Henry looked up at him, offering his cousin a cool gaze that revealed little of his thoughts.

[Oznerol]

Richard almost gasped when he felt the cold steel, but received the homage none less, his eyes stared at Hereford calmly.

"Thou are welcomed into our servive, co--ousin Hereford. We grant thou this: we shall preside a reunion of the realm in Parliament, here in our palace of Westminster. Then, thou shall pronounce your numerous grievances with our household"

[Gandalfus]

Bolingbroke rose then, relieved that this somewhat awkward business was finished. They were justified in their claims, and their cause was righteous, but he truthfully doubted the motives of his uncle Woodstock, who had personal feuds with many of Richard's court.

"I give my humble thanks, Majesty." He then stood by, expectantly, waiting for the others to pay homage. Richard was still the King, after all.

[Jokern]

Nottingham calmly walked up and bent his knee beside Bolingbroke. Richard was king, no man living or dead could deny that. He had firmly opposed the idea of deposition on their march to the royal court, for fear of the chaos that would unfold if such an action were to be taken. He clasped the King's hand when offered.

"I, too, pay homage to thee, most gracious sovereign of England. May the rightful triumph and let the sinful be cast aside, so that the light of thine sacred crown may shine upon thine glorious realm."

[Oznerol]

Mowbray had always been loyal, unlike Woodstock or Arundel. Perhaps he and Bolingbroke could again be gained for the royal cause. However, the king was more concerned with Ireland's alledged fate: still, he had to remain majestic and composed while the so-called Appellants where before him.

"Raise, raise, my noble Nottingham. Thou are welcomed into our service, God bless thee"

His hand on Mowbray's head, indicating him to raise. Richard could presume what would happen next, and what he would be forced to behold. His own maternal great-grandfather, Edmund, earl of Kent, had been mercilessly butchered by March and the Queen, his paternal great-grandmother.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Woodstock, who was among those that had knelt before, would oblige the King again by falling to one knee. He bowed his head before speaking.

"I pay homage to thee as your subject, tenant and kinsman, Your Majesty. May you see our cause as righteous and our purpose true, for we all love England greatly and desire nothing to keep you from those who seek to speak wicked words into your ears. May you call forth a Parliament to right the wrongs and rid the plague in London that is within the verge of your court."

Woodstock then looks up at his nephew. All a show, he thought, for the Lords Appellant would ensure more than just the elimination of those branded as criminals.

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