Phillipe had barely managed to persuade his brother, the King, to let him lead in the battle against Spain. He was leading the battle, for France. Phillipe was a master of the battlefield – he thrived in war and he was known for the intellectual attributes he brought to the army.

Louis had let Phillipe go to battle, begrudgingly. Although he was reluctant and thought that he, himself, as king, should be leading the war — he couldn't doubt his brother's skillset.

That would be completely foolish of him. So, after a long argument, Phillipe was sent by carriage to the battlefields, where he was to command the king's army. And, to nobody's suprise, he resigned victorious upon the battlefield.

Phillipe had practicality won the war for France. He had killed many Spaniards, let himself feel the glory of victory — and he was going to feel that again before he was interrupted.

Phillipe was in the middle of explaining the battle plans for the next fight, before being interrupted by a carriage stopping near camp. He could tell by the over-the-top gold detailing on the carriage, the white horses pulling it, that his brother, the King, had arrived.

Louis stepped out of the carriage, then helping Henriette, Phillipe's wife, out of it. Phillipe was infuriated, his wife, on the arm of his brother? He could not bear it. Louis and Phillipe entered the tent.

Louis and he argued. Louis had signed a peace treaty, after Phillipe had fought so hard, after many men had lost their lives, they'd just declare peace? When France could win? Phillipe argued, yelling at his brother, the King.

Then he remembered his wife, on the arm of his brother, and that only angered him further. "Henriette!" yelled Phillipe, furiously.

"Where is my wife?" he said, loudly. He had no care for Henriette, he'd been sleeping with Chevleir, a man at court, ever since Henriette was betrothed to him.

Louis was still standing across from him. Phillipe held his hand open to the side, to hold his wives hand when she inevitably entered the room.