They called him the King of Fools, and rightly so. During his final campaign, now known as the Winter Rebellion, he had been bested by the rebel army within four skirmishes.
The Black King had known that if only he could complete his planned set of manoeuvres, he would be sure of victory. But it had been pride and hubris that had caused him such resounding defeat; determination to execute his own strategy perfectly with no consideration for what the enemy might be doing.
This is what happened.
The White foe sent the group of men-at-arms positioned directly in front of their King two-hundred yards straight forward. This was swiftly followed by a group of holy warriors who would struck four-hundred yards diagonally out from behind the defensive ranks to an aggressive forward position.
The Fool King paid no heed to the opening stages of this battle, not even attempting to put pressure on the holy warriors in their gleaming, white armour as they remained in their forward position. He was busy putting his plans into action and trying to bring his siege towers into play
The cramped passage in which the armies were fighting meant that do this, his men-at-arms on either side of the army would have to both strike out two-hundred metres apiece, into a tactically weak position. It was a poor opening gambit, to be sure; but if his siege towers could be deployed quickly, he could control the battle with ease.
Whilst the King of the Black Country tried to realise his plans, the most elite forces of the White army would march three-hundred yards diagonally out, placing themselves just in front of the main ranks of men-at-arms; the Queensmen were ready for blood.
The White victory was imminent, but the Black King was blind and deaf to the cries of his knights. They screamed at him to defend himself, to deploy a mounted group to defend against the white Queensmen, to do something. But the Fool King simply ignored the warnings and plunged ahead with his attempt to use his siege towers.
He firmly believed that his strategic wisdom and his final victory would eclipse that of Spartan defeat of the Persian Immortals at Thermopylae; the rightmost tower was deployed forwards, following after the men-at-arms in the front.
The Queensmen struck. Like lightning, they ran straight forwards, crashing into the Black men-at-arms, slaughtering them almost instantly. The Fool King finally saw his mistake.
The enemy Queensmen were now in a position to storm his camp, and he knew that he could not defend himself. He could attack of course; his bodyguards were well trained in combat and could destroy the enemy with ease. But this would be folly. The White holy warriors could bombard the position he would take up with bolts from their crossbows, utterly destroying him.
The Black King collapsed into a heap, unable to stand any longer. He sent an envoy to the White King, with terms to negotiate his surrender.
The game was done.
The Black King had known that if only he could complete his planned set of manoeuvres, he would be sure of victory. But it had been pride and hubris that had caused him such resounding defeat; determination to execute his own strategy perfectly with no consideration for what the enemy might be doing.
This is what happened.
The White foe sent the group of men-at-arms positioned directly in front of their King two-hundred yards straight forward. This was swiftly followed by a group of holy warriors who would struck four-hundred yards diagonally out from behind the defensive ranks to an aggressive forward position.
The Fool King paid no heed to the opening stages of this battle, not even attempting to put pressure on the holy warriors in their gleaming, white armour as they remained in their forward position. He was busy putting his plans into action and trying to bring his siege towers into play
The cramped passage in which the armies were fighting meant that do this, his men-at-arms on either side of the army would have to both strike out two-hundred metres apiece, into a tactically weak position. It was a poor opening gambit, to be sure; but if his siege towers could be deployed quickly, he could control the battle with ease.
Whilst the King of the Black Country tried to realise his plans, the most elite forces of the White army would march three-hundred yards diagonally out, placing themselves just in front of the main ranks of men-at-arms; the Queensmen were ready for blood.
The White victory was imminent, but the Black King was blind and deaf to the cries of his knights. They screamed at him to defend himself, to deploy a mounted group to defend against the white Queensmen, to do something. But the Fool King simply ignored the warnings and plunged ahead with his attempt to use his siege towers.
He firmly believed that his strategic wisdom and his final victory would eclipse that of Spartan defeat of the Persian Immortals at Thermopylae; the rightmost tower was deployed forwards, following after the men-at-arms in the front.
The Queensmen struck. Like lightning, they ran straight forwards, crashing into the Black men-at-arms, slaughtering them almost instantly. The Fool King finally saw his mistake.
The enemy Queensmen were now in a position to storm his camp, and he knew that he could not defend himself. He could attack of course; his bodyguards were well trained in combat and could destroy the enemy with ease. But this would be folly. The White holy warriors could bombard the position he would take up with bolts from their crossbows, utterly destroying him.
The Black King collapsed into a heap, unable to stand any longer. He sent an envoy to the White King, with terms to negotiate his surrender.
The game was done.