The Immortal Gazette: The Battle of Hastings – The Art of Deception and Strategy
The ever-shifting shadows of the Immortal Gazette’s studio held an air of tension as the three conspirators prepared for their next discussion. Alice was lounging by a flickering fire, her eyes glinting with mischief. Loki, perched on the back of an armchair, was swirling a glass of wine, completely at ease. Rumplestiltskin, however, stood over a large map of medieval England, his fingers tracing the outlines of battlefields, clearly in his element.
“The Battle of Hastings,” Rumplestiltskin began, his voice tinged with a wicked sort of enthusiasm. “A classic. An entire country’s fate decided on the back of a brilliant trick. William the Conqueror, a man of... ambition and vision, claimed the throne of England by blending force with strategy.”
Alice raised an eyebrow. “More like a bloody force. His army—composed of Normans, Bretons, and a mix of others—pushed through England’s defenses like a tidal wave. And yet... Harold had the higher ground.”
“True,” Loki added, swishing his wine. “It’s hard to imagine why someone would think fighting uphill with your forces already weakened after a battle with the Norwegians was a good idea. But hey, I’m not one for military advice.”
Rumplestiltskin smirked, clearly preparing to teach them a lesson. “Ah, but you see, Harold wasn’t just fighting uphill. He was fighting against psychological pressure. William knew how to make the enemy believe they were doomed before the first sword even swung.”
Alice’s eyes lit up. “You mean like that little trick William played with his feigned retreat?”
Rumplestiltskin gave her a knowing look. “Exactly. A masterstroke of deception. You see, William’s forces pretended to be defeated and began to fall back. It was a cunning little dance, wasn’t it?”
“A retreat?” Loki said with a playful sneer. “Who in their right mind retreats when they’re winning?”
“William wasn’t retreating—he was luring the English into a trap,” Rumplestiltskin explained, tapping the map. “See, Harold and his men were desperate to take advantage of the opportunity. They saw their chance to break the Norman lines and charge. But it was all part of William’s plan. He knew that the English would give chase. And that was when he struck.”
Alice scoffed. “As if Harold didn’t have enough problems already. He charges his men straight down the hill, exhausted, trying to catch a ‘fleeing’ army, only to walk straight into a trap.”
Rumplestiltskin nodded, impressed. “Exactly. But here’s the beauty of it all. What if William’s feigned retreat had been even more elaborate? What if, instead of just pulling back, the Normans strategically crumbled—leaving behind carefully placed decoy bodies, abandoned weapons, and even half-buried shields to make it seem like their forces were decimated? Harold’s army would have been even more eager to chase them down, thinking they’d already won.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I like where this is going. So, Harold would have thought the battle was as good as over and led his forces down to finish it, right? That’s... dangerous.”
“Exactly,” Rumplestiltskin purred, clearly enjoying the visual. “As the English forces pressed onward, believing they were in the midst of a victory, William’s reinforcements would be hidden, waiting for the perfect moment to spring a second trap. As Harold’s men pushed forward with exhaustion and no backup, they’d be overwhelmed by a fresh, unchallenged Norman force, arriving from the flanks.”
Alice grinned, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “So, it’s a trap within a trap. Harold thinks he’s winning—his men think they’re winning—but it’s all a trick to make them overconfident and divided.”
Rumplestiltskin twirled a finger through the air as he fleshed out his idea. “Imagine it—Harold’s forces, already stretched thin after a grueling previous battle with the Norwegians, eagerly chase after the retreating Normans. They break their formation, spread out, thinking it’s their last chance for glory. And that’s when William’s forces ambush them from behind, with fresh troops that’ve been waiting for just that moment. It’s not just about striking from the front; it’s about overwhelming your enemy with exhaustion, uncertainty, and fear.”
Loki grinned, clearly enjoying the scenario. “I love the mental gymnastics involved. It’s not just about numbers; it’s about manipulating your enemy’s perception of the situation. Make them feel safe when they’re not—make them feel trapped without even realizing it.”
Alice was leaning forward now, her fingers tracing patterns on the table. “And, of course, once Harold’s men are on the offensive and scattered, it’s not hard for William’s cavalry to mop up. Throw in a few more tricks, like targeting key figures—Harold, perhaps, or any of his commanders—and the English army’s heart crumbles.”
Rumplestiltskin’s smile widened. “Indeed. By the time Harold realizes he’s been outplayed, it’s too late. His forces, too tired, too divided, too overconfident, are caught in a storm of Norman steel and cunning.”
“And let’s not forget about the legend that Harold died in the battle,” Alice said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “That arrow to the eye... a nice, poetic touch.”
“Poetry and strategy,” Rumplestiltskin said with a wink. “They often go hand in hand, especially when you know how to write the ending you want.”
Loki smirked. “And William got his throne. All thanks to a little psychological manipulation and a well-timed trick.”
Rumplestiltskin straightened up, his eyes alight with satisfaction. “Indeed. And remember this, my friends: history is not just written in the blood spilled on the battlefield, but in the minds of the men who fought there.”
The trio sat back, letting the gravity of their conversation sink in, savoring the deliciously cunning twists that could have turned the tides even more in William’s favor. One could only imagine how history might have played out differently with the right kind of manipulation.
🖋️✨📜🖤
