The field of Crécy was quiet now, save for the caw of carrion birds circling overhead. Where chaos had raged the day before, the fallen lay in solemn silence. Princess Edith, the Black Princess, had stood with bowed head as King John of Bohemia was given honors, his banner raised, his body laid to rest with dignity. Though he had been her enemy, she had admired his courage in riding to the fight blind, tethered to his knights.

Now, walking from the field with her closest captains, her black armor still streaked with mud and blood, she broke the silence.

“He fought like a lion, even in darkness. My father will honor such a foe. As for what comes next…” She paused, gazing toward the north. “He will not rest. Calais is the prize. Mark me, he will march, and we will see this war pressed harder than before. Calais is the key to winning the war.”