Blades danced a hymn of pride, leaving their marks in the flesh of young men up and down the frontline. A shadow casts over weary Frenchman, a knight head to toe in iron plates towering over the battlefield. Each swing of his great sword sending French peasants careening into the mud and blood. He locks eyes with the Geoffrey the Duke of Anjou across the battlefield, sat nervously upon his steed. He makes his way towards him with a fury, his guardsman cutting down any man in his way.
"Geoffrey, drag your foul hide off that beast and fight me like a man!", the knight bellowed in French.
Geoffrey tried to rear his horse back to escape but alas the prideful knight reached him, grabbing hold of his chainmail and pulling him from his horse, sending him careening to the ground. He tried to push himself up out of the mud but the knight dug his blade betwixt his chain into his abdomen. The duke yet out a bloodcurdling scream as he helplessly flailed, trying to reach for his dagger. The knight on top of him finally removed his helmet revealing a youthful scar ridden face, topped with a shrub of greasy hair.
He then shouted out to the men around him, "I am Stephen, Count of Bois, grandson of William the Conqueror. And here is your beloved Duke!"
Stephen then picked up Geoffrey of Anjou before slicing his throat, letting out a disgusting gargling sound as his blood spewed out into the mud. Stephen continued, "Surrender now or else I will raise every village around to the ground!". All of a sudden what was left of the French forces turned and fled the field.
The English forces occupied the castle of Angers, the men drank late into next morning, having their way with the local women. All around were jovial faces, besides one man. Stephen sat in the corner of the hall, he rested sober, his mind ill at ease. All these wars and battles he fought and yet never for himself. He eyed up his friend William jealously. He was son of King Henry of England, all this land Stephen fought for in France would be Williams'. He'd never see the rewards for his own efforts. His jealousy took hold as he continued to relish in his own hatred, if it were that William could pass away that would leave no true heir to the throne aside from his sister Matilda who surely would never get the backing of the nobility. Stephen had won himself great renown across the Kingdom and popularity of all the lords in the French territory, he stood in good standing for the throne in the event of Williams death.
And so his sinister machinations took hold, poisoning every word out of his friends mouth.
