He had thought, secretly, that despite all his training it might be frightening to have people trying to kill him for real, but in the end, the fighting – at least, once it got to be close work and the archers had stopped shooting – was not very frightening at all. It was much less complicated, anyway, than council meetings and parliaments and answering Father's questions about where Harry was. Instead it was your army and the other one, and you had to kill more of their men than they killed of yours, and that was all. And if you were facing an army like this one that was taking up arms against their lord and king, then you knew that your cause was right, and that the work you did was the work of God, who would not let the righteous fall in their hour of need.
I'd like to buy this paragraph a drink. Especially the bolded bit.
Also this: thanks to Harry's maneuvering the ale-soaked Eastcheap ruffians were all fighting on the King's part. If you could call it fighting.
And: "…and then Harry actually took the crown off his pillow and left," Humphrey said later, over bottles of wine, trying and not succeeding in stifling a strangled giggle, the kind you made when you laughed because otherwise you'd cry. because oh god these poor kids.
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I'd like to buy this paragraph a drink. Especially the bolded bit.
Also this: thanks to Harry's maneuvering the ale-soaked Eastcheap ruffians were all fighting on the King's part. If you could call it fighting.
And: "…and then Harry actually took the crown off his pillow and left," Humphrey said later, over bottles of wine, trying and not succeeding in stifling a strangled giggle, the kind you made when you laughed because otherwise you'd cry. because oh god these poor kids.