Rising High || THE COUSIN'S WAR

Chapter IV

The city of Caen had fallen like dominos to the flick of a finger and the men were riding high on their victory. The soliders' spirits were high, although there were a few little disgruntled that had to stay and ensure the French city remained under their control instead of marching onward.

However, none of that bothered the rambunctious leaders of the small army. There had been very little loss on the battlefield and the city that had captured remained intact. The warmth in the air made their victory even better and it was their voices that rose through the din that was caused by the army trailing behind them.

"We all captured the city," Richard argued as they rode along the path, glaring at John, who simply sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I haven't slept nor eaten enough to deal with this man, he thought in a disgruntled tone.

"I suppose we did," he admitted before Andrew grinned, leaning forward in his saddle, and called out mockingly, "Arthur also caught something else. What was it again?"

"A cold," the blonde teen grumbled, pulling his cloak tighter around him.

"That's what you get for being an idiot and running through the sewers for France like a headless chicken," Richard scolded, turning in his saddle to look at the young boy. Arthur rolled his eyes, defiant despite the state he was in.

"I'm not a child and you're not my mother," he snapped before sneezing violently. He blew his nose in the rough piece of cloth he carried in his hands in an attempt to clear a path for air. However, no matter how many times he did, it worked to no avail.

"I dunno," John said with a shrug. "He could be your mother, seeing as he's always fretting over you."

"I do not fret over him!" Richard exclaimed, his face flushing red and John chuckled, "If anything, you should be more concerned about his safety! He's the heir to the throne!" Arthur ducked his head and Andrew glanced at him before sighing and shooting a look at Richard.

"Come now, Warwick, our king is still young and healthy. We don't want to deal with any treason right now," he chided.

"I was simply speaking the truth. Everyone knows that he has a stronger claim-" "Richard!" Arthur snapped, his voice harsh as he looked up suddenly, "That's enough."

"Yes, Your Grace."

They rode in silence with the only sound of their men marching behind them and the occasional sneeze or cough from Arthur for a while before John declared that they should set up camp. The sun had been making its way up the sky when they left Caen and now it was descending quickly. The sky was turned ablaze with the vibrant and rich colors of flames and dousing the armored English troops in gold.

A hopeful sign of future victory.

John turned to Richard who nodded and shouted the command to rest and the order was repeated down the ranks. Arthur leaned forward and rested his cheek on the neck of his stallion and shutting his eyes.

"Are you alright, my lord?" A man asked and he smiled at Richard Woodville.

"We almost drowned crossing the Channel, we marched through mud and intolerable heat, and I haven't washed in weeks. Do I look alright?" Arthur questioned, with attitude, opening one eye to look at the brown-haired man.

"We will all be home soon," Woodville said, trying to comfort the teenager who let out an annoyed huff. Sometimes, Arthur was just so mature on the battlefield that many people forgot he wasn't even a man yet. He was bound to snap and whine like a normal child, but it was still quite shocking to anyone who had been around him for so long.

"Perhaps, but I miss my bed and Bedford," he grumbled, burying his face into his stallion's mane. "I'm going to sleep," Arthur declared and Richard Woodville sighed, before asking, "Shall we set up your tent then, Your Grace?" There was a pause before Arthur nodded his head.