A very English civil war

The betrayal of England

Saturday 10th May 2025

Tyrr had returned. He had reconvened the great Baronial parliament and within it, Isle of Westland and Suth Seaxe rushed to the Kings side.
Years of raiding had left England bereft of treasure and manpower.

The other barons gathered as the trumpets blew as Tyrr made his grand entrance. One by one they bowed their head as Tyrr walked through to the Throne of England.
Royal banner of england and High Earth carefully watched the relief of the Lord Steward of England, Richard Scott 12th Duke of Westland as he
saw his King walk through the halls. The Duke of Westland had spent much blood and treasure to keep England safe. Finally the King had returned and no longer would his own subjects
be forced to pay through the nose just to survive.

Alongside the King of England came another, Rhanukhan. That ancient chronicler of England had left it years ago for the shores of Europe.
Her eyes cast a long hard stare over the figures of Richard Scott of Westland and Æthelwealh of Suth Seaxe. Her presence concerned the pair. Why had she returned with Tyrr after years?

Tyrr sat at the throne and congratulated The Lord Steward of England. Then promptly had him arrested. "Treason! You have governed England without royal assent!" Tyrr's bodyguards
flanked the Duke of Westland and forced him to his knees. "You come here, before a King, wearing your own crown and think I have need of your pathetic Baronial government?
How many Barons do we have? Just 3? You call this a government! Tyrr has no need of these men!"

"Ill news of your little England reached my court. Tyrr was tracked down and I begged him to return to put an end to your pathetic parish council government." shouted Rhanukhan

Soldiers burst into the great hall. Tyrr had arranged not a homecoming, but a despotic overthrow of the surviving English nobles. Richard was thrown to the floor and bloodied.

Richard of Isle of Westland looked up from the floor, a jackboot on his neck. Straining to see Tyrr he raised his voice as the jackboot crushed the breath from within him.
"I have not suffered so much death and plundered lands to bandy words with a pretender as yourself! You, who abandon these lands and return at a whim? Treason is done by your own hands! I further move that
any who arrest me are guilty of breaching the ancient rights bestowed upon us, a crime upon its people and of treason against the nation!"

Tyrr sat up from his throne. "So be it. You will let all the members know that they are no longer needed. Their authority is dissolved".

Tyrr left the great hall. Westland, Suth Seaxe, Royal Banner and High Earth were stripped of their armour, blades and titles. Sentenced to death.

Tyrr, who had left England defenceless for years, returning only for tribute and soon disappearing, had destroyed the last remaining vestiges of England trying to keep it alive.
England was being finally destroyed, from within.

The great revolt

Locked within the tower, the Barons sat waiting the executioners axe. The gallows loomed high over them. The gaoler at least made life bearable for the nobles. He sympathised with the much loved Lord Steward of England.

Suddenly, the sound of a great commotion began to rise up the tower from the ground below. It began first as a few angry voices but soon raised to a cacophony. Flags and pitchforks could be seen in the ground below.
Protests! The barons could pick out a few words. Discontent, taxation, treason! The crowds were gathering beneath the tower. Soon they had burst into the prison, and the Barons had been released.
They poured out onto the streets to witness a riot breaking out. Tyrr had lost control. His solders were fleeing. This was the time for escape! Fleeing with the crowds, they burst out of the city, breaking upon the gates
like a vicious river bursting its banks, finally spilling out into the lands surrounding.
Isle of Westland felt a change. Wind in his face. The sunset was glimmering. Far in the hills, fog rolled down the hills. Drifting within the fog, horsemen.
Thousands of them. The Lord Steward of England sprang up, tall and proud. It was the combined cavalry of Suth Seaxe and Westland. They had not disbanded on Tyrrs orders, but instead were
coming down upon the capital. The portent of their arrival had stirred up the crowds to free the Barons.

The Lord Stewards crown was placed back upon Richard Scott's head. He mounted his horse. He rose in his stirrups and cried in a loud voice.
"Arise! Arise! Men of England!
Tyrr plots and ill deeds plague the lands. I command the overthrow of that Despot Tyrr.
Unlike Tyrr, I'm born and raised in these lands. Like a great Oak of Albion, I'm part of the soil and grown to be part of this land.
My subjects, what I do is within my right and anointed power, to as rightful Steward of England, demand.
Ride now, to fire and slaughter! The ground shall be shaken and England splintered!"

His banner bearer blew the great horn. The host raised their horns in unison, the Barons lifted upon their own steeds. The great host departed like the sounds of thunder.
The revolt began, they descended upon the fields of Tyrr, terror took his domains and Tyrrs forces fled and died. Trampled down under wraith by the great steeds. The sounds of the trumpeters terrible carried over the walls to Tyrrs strongholds.

The Oaks of Albion vs Tyrr the Pretender

The hosts of Tyrr had been defeated, but all knew he would return and great would be his wrath.

Deep within the English countryside, the rebel forces led by the Isle of Westland gathered support as they travelled, liberating villages from the oppressive Tyrrian rule.
The yoke of Tyrr was heavy on the land, oppressive taxation and seizures of land were found throughout. The stirring speech by Richard Scott had provided the rebels with a
banner. They would be known as the Oaks of Albion. Born and raised in this land, their roots dug deep into its soil, and the soil provided. Village after village and town after town
signed fealty to the rebels. One by one the lifeblood of the nation pledged itself to Westland's forces and diminished the resources feeding the tyrant Tyrr. The flag, a banner showing a silver
ancient oak tree across the Cross of St George, was flying over nearly half the towns of England.

But Tyrr had been busy. Busy building up a network of Burghs and destroying bridges to cut off the Oaks of Albion from making further progress. Tyrr himself had gathered his main force
at the town of Evesham. The terrain suited his forces, he had time to prepare. The Oaks of Albion could not wait forever. How would the rebels force Tyrr from the lands in front of them?
Evesham was a trap, and they knew it.

But Æthelwealh from Suth Seaxe approached the Lord Protector.
"My Lord, there are forces abroad that helped us in the past when Tyrr abandoned us to face the raiders. I suggest inviting them to invade England and catch Tyrr unawares”.

"Foreign forces invade England?" spat Richard Scott. He could scarcely believe it.

"Not an invasion, but an invitation. We share our grievances against King Tyrr and press the charges that he is a suppositious King. He has forgone his birthright and allows foreign invaders in by
ignoring these lands as but a money purse. They can land in the South, splitting Tyrrs forces and allowing us to make the final blow to his reign."

The document outlining the invitation was laid out in front of them.

The immortal 4

The invitation declared

"We, the 4 signatories below, do sign that Tyrr leaves us every day in a worse condition that we are, we are less able to defend ourselves and we do wish for a remedy
before we are overrun by invader scum and unable to work for our own deliverance. The people, being so dissatisfied with Tyrrs governance and in such expectation that it will
continue to get worse, that we are desirous of change.

We believe, the people would greatly contribute to the rising against Tyrr, if they had protection to secure them from being destroyed.
We hereby invite our allies,
Rhaza
the league
the plains of perdition
the rejected realms
the order of the grey wardens
the north pacific
commonwealth of sovereign states
10000 islands
blue ridge

to restore our dignity and trust.

Signed, the Immortal 4
Suth Seaxe
Isle of Westland
High Earth
Royal banner of england

"It is now or never. We remove the tyrant Tyrr, or face our own deaths. Let us pray our allies respond in time."

The lines would be drawn.
A Knight of Suth Seaxe strummed his lute as the soldiers prepared for battle.

"The rusted chains of England’s demise,
Are burned by the light of morning.
The soil is deep, the roots go far
The Albion oaks are stirring.
The piper has to be paid,
The choir softly sing;
Lullabies will not sooth the dreams,
In the court of Tyrr the King."