#and Albion itself has digested kings before

[pyrrhiccomedy]

The Invasion of England - 1358.

King of France, warrior and usurper, witch and novitiate, traitor and fool:

You think to come here?

On your stolen ships, with your infernal cannon, with your swords, with your armies, with the creatures who attend you -

You think to stand on Albion?

You have claimed your crown upon unthinking Christian soil. Lulled to sleep by your church, by your crosses, by your golden harvests, and your wide, straight roads: France is a maiden, innocent and new. You were unopposed except by men: our sister-land welcomed her groom.

England is no virgin.

Your ships land on bitter soil. Your men camp in watchful woods. Our battlefields have drank the blood of more eldritch things than you.

You come in your arrogance, in your strength, on a horse named Death, promises on your lips and an empire in your eyes:

But England will swallow you whole.