Owen... you are on the verge of greatness, don’t stop now!
Isn’t every Lancastrian?
A Thorn In The Rose: A War Of The Roses TL
- Thread starter VVD0D95
- Start date
I don’t even think he fully understands what is going on at this stage
.... We are waiting for Westminster to reach 16, fingers crossed he’s Henry V: The Sequel.
Wow, I'm so proud of my guess then
This inspired me to create an idea about Owen's alternate fate which I may or may not use in the future while writing a TL. But back into here, I hope that Edmund will also be slain by Owen
Chapter 175: Battle
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 175: Battle
June, 1464
June, 1464
Edmund Plantagenet, King of England and France, Lord of Ireland, surveyed the ground in front of him. It was flat, which was unusual for Wales. It was clear, and the sun was out. It was damnably hot as well. He could already feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his neck.
They had marched from Ludlow, six thousand strong, and entered Wales, without harassment, thanks to the screens that Edmund had ordered put in place. When they’d received word of where the Lancastrians were camped, Edmund had marched forth, carefully scoping out the land to ensure they could not be trapped.
They’d then learned that the Lancastrians were trying to bait them. Owen Tudor was commanding the vanguard of the enemy host. Clearly they thought Edmund would be so desperate that he’d try and take Tudor on.
He was desperate, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d given the vanguard of his army over to the Duke of Buckingham, and told him to prove his loyalty by bringing him Tudor’s head. Whether the man succeeded or not, Edmund didn’t care. He just wanted to see what Buckingham would do.
Buckingham had pleaded with Edmund, told him that he was loyal, that he simply wanted to return home. Edmund had laughed, Buckingham was married to a Beaufort, there was not a chance in hell he was completely loyal. Therefore, he’d given him the van and placed men who were loyal to him and him alone in Buckingham’s battle group. If Buckingham showed any sign of turning, he would be killed.
The right was commanded by Sir William Hastings and had orders to get involved if the van looked like it was about to break. The rear was commanded by the Earl of Essex, which was fitting given how old the man was.
Edmund controlled the left, and had included his brother in law, Exeter in the battle group as well. Exeter had been quiet as of late, but Edmund wondered if there was something lurking beneath the surface there. Anne had told him that he had been increasingly irritable as of late.
Hopefully that irritation would allow him to perform well on the battlefield.
Edmund took a breath and then tensed when he heard a horn sound. That was the call to battle. Buckingham was moving. He said a prayer. He hoped God would give them a victory, they needed it. They needed to crush the Lancastrians. Only then would there be peace.
He could feel the vibrations of the horses charging in the distance. His own horse snorted and moved slightly. Edmund rested a hand on its neck and muttered some words to soothe it. He also tried to keep his own mind blank. He didn’t want to get too nervous or excitable.
God alone knew what might happen if that occurred.
He did briefly wonder if Henry of Lancaster would be in the field, with his men. His spies suggested that Lancaster was still in a poor state. Barely speaking and when he did, speaking in riddles. How and why people still fought for him, Edmund didn’t know.
Perhaps he’d ask them when this was all over.
Edmund continued to stare forwards, willing his mind to go blank, but being unable to. There was just too much to think about.
He was concerned with how they were going to end this battle, whether this would end the war, whether Buckingham would come out of this in a positive manner, and whether or not Calais would fall as well.
There was so much to worry about.
Not for the first time, Edmund wondered why God had made him King. Why he’d taken Edward away. This didn’t make sense.
“Sire.” A voice said.
Edmund blinked and turned.
James Radclyffe, a companion was at his side.
“What is it?” Edmund barked.
“We’ve spotted Somerset’s banner. He’s coming for us.” Radclyffe said.
“Somerset’s banner?” Edmund asked, either this was a trap or Somerset was being bold.
“Yes, Sire.” Radclyffe said.
“Well, we’d be better greet him then.” Edmund said. “Prepare the men.”
Chapter 176: Confusion
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 176: Confusion
June, 1464
June, 1464
Owen could see the enemy from where he was stood. They were gathered in a battle formation. There were perhaps one thousand of them. They flew Royal Standard and the banner of their liege lord. The Royal Standard being flown by the enemy annoyed him. York was not the King; he was a usurper and he would die.
The other banner intrigued him.
A yellow shield with a red chevron, crowned. The sigil of the Duke of Buckingham.
He had thought Buckingham had died. He had mourned for the man, but now that he saw where the man had actually gone, he knew he would have to kill him.
Buckingham was commanding the van of the enemy, which meant York was smarter than Somerset had given him credit for.
Owen took a breath, and then pulled out his hammer. His axe was back at camp. He’d use the hammer today and take them down, one by one.
He didn’t say anything, he simply stepped forward. He took another step, and then another and then he was running. His men were running after him. His heart raced. A horn sounded, the ground shook, and then they were in it.
Battle.
The heat of it all caused his blood to rush. He grunted as his hammer connected with a grunt. He watched the man’s face get caved in before his momentum pushed him onward. There was no time to wait and see. Action was what he needed.
Another man appeared, this one was slightly older, slightly bigger. Owen dispatched him as well. His hammer singing as he worked. He moved onward. The ground was surprisingly flat here. And for a moment, Owen wondered if they’d made the right choice choosing this as the place where they’d fight.
He sighed, pushed that thought to one side and went back to his duty. Let Somerset worry about that. His job was to take as many of these Yorkist pricks as possible. His hammer knew that and so did his mind, for though he was contemplating the ground, his hands were doing their work.
Men came after him, swinging their weapons, demanding that he be brought down low by them. He ignored them and moved through the circle. Turning his hands into a sharp focus of time and space. He weaved through and when needed used force. Otherwise, he was content to give a light tap and then allow momentum to do the rest.
Soon, the wave of battle carried him to where he wanted to be. A man bearing the colours of the traitor Buckingham, was in front of him. Owen snarled, and swung. The man moved to the side and swung, grazing Owen’s side.
Owen snarled and swung, this time his hammer hit the man’s sword, and he realised who it was.
“Buckingham!”
The man didn’t reply, instead he pushed and Owen stumbled backward. He righted himself and threw himself at Buckingham. He swung his hammer repeatedly, being blocked once, twice, and then on the third time, managing to connect and sending Buckingham stumbling back.
“Traitor!” Owen snarled. He followed Buckingham.
Buckingham tried to get away but Owen followed. He moved forward and pushed, Buckingham fell back, exposing a gap, Owen put all his might into the swing and felt the connection. His arms shook with the force of the blow.
Buckingham swayed and then crashed face first into the ground.
Owen looked at him, and then turned when he heard someone yell. He brought his hammer up in time to block a potentially dangerous swing. He grunted with the effort and then put his back into throwing off the man.
The man came back at him.
Owen ducked and weaved. His training from years ago kicking in. This was a man fighting on emotion, not anything else. As such, his swings were wild, his movements erratic. There was no sense to them and as such, Owen could, if he wanted to crush the man there and then.
But he would rather let the man tire himself out. He’d let him think that Owen was on the backfoot, then when he couldn’t go anymore, Owen would strike. He was older, more experienced and more agile. This man was flat footed, if the heaviness of his boots on the ground was any sign.
Owen waited, taking the odd blow here and there, so as not to arouse suspicion. Then when the moment came, he struck.
The enemy had left himself vulnerable. A gap between his breast and his arm. Owen took his hammer and swung, deliberately leading with the spike on the top. The spike found its mark, and the man grunted with pain. Owen pulled out and then headbutted the man, causing them both to stumble. Owen followed the man and then saw a gap, where the man’s chainmail had been weakened, he pushed through and found purchase. The nail went in, and then man gargled.
Owen didn’t let up until the man had stopped.
He pulled the hammer out and watched the man drop.
He stood there, panting. Then he took a breath and assessed the battlefield.
It was chaos.
He saw the Royal Standard and snarled.
Fuck yeah he's going after Edmund, I can barely wait to see how they fare now that he has added Buckingham to his kill list.
I mean, according to the Welsh Prophecy (Mab y darogan or something like that?) he meets the requirements to be King of Wales; Be Welsh, check. Be named Owen (I kid you not this was an actual thing, or maybe it was de facto), check. Be a warrior, triple check, etc.