Elegy for Francis, Duke of Dukes | An Alternate History

The Massacre of Nantes

SECOND STANZA, VERSE IV

The force consisted of some twenty-five thousand men, most on horses. Commanding it was a man of looming stature. He towered above his men, in a way that gave the impression that he maintained order through fear. In reality he was more scared of his men than they were of him. Supplies had been running low for days prior to reaching the city and they were starting to get rowdy.

Francis watched from a rooftop as the man gave a speech. "Steady, men! When the city is ours, we shall feast as kings!" An approving uproar swept across the ranks, from the front to the back. "But first we must fight. First we must struggle to claim what is ours!" The cheering quickly turned into enraged shouting fixed at half at the Bretons and half at their own leader.

Under his breath he muttered "Something just isn't right here. Where's the garrison? In the castle?" He cleared his throat. "Stay on your guard!" With that the army marched towards the Ile de Nantes to get at the castle just to its north. The horses all clamored onto the many bridges, none designed to hold any more than a few hundred people at once. Even without the piles of explosives packed between the wood and the water, the bridges were sure to give out.

Just as the commander cleared the island, two sets of great explosions sent wood, stone, metal, and bodies flying into the air. He looked back in horror at the dozens and dozens of people raining from above. Such a reaction was short lived as a dull pain entered the back of his head, and he fell to the ground, dead. Francis had struck true with a bow, standing on a rooftop. More shots followed as the entirety of the island became a shooting gallery and the citizenry emerged from atop every building, firing upon the panicked enemy.