The Immortal Gazette: The War of the Roses—Cunning Strategies and Misdirection
The room was thick with the kind of tension that only comes from watching some of history’s most duplicitous minds come to the table for a strategic breakdown. Alice, still sipping her tea with a mix of boredom and amusement, leaned back in her chair, legs crossed casually. Loki was lounging, eyes half-closed as if he was waiting for the drama to unfold. But the real mastermind was Rumplestiltskin, who had a genuine interest in the War of the Roses, a conflict that was as much about who could outwit whom as it was about battle tactics.
“Alright, you two,” Rumplestiltskin said, his eyes glinting with mischief, “let’s talk about the War of the Roses, shall we? Two houses—Lancaster and York—fighting for the throne. It wasn’t just armies clashing, but two families using every trick in the book to manipulate, deceive, and outright betray each other.”
“Pfft, sounds like a real party,” Alice muttered, swirling her tea in her cup with a knowing look. “But I guess if you want to have a proper war, why not start by ensuring your enemies never see the real game you're playing?”
“Exactly,” Rumplestiltskin continued, nodding at Alice’s pointed comment. “The Yorks and Lancasters didn’t just rely on raw power—they knew that to win, they had to outmaneuver each other at every turn. There was always a mask being worn, a distraction in play, and a thousand schemes happening behind the scenes.”
Loki, always the provocateur, raised an eyebrow. “I’m already bored. Tell me, Rumple—how exactly would you have added extra flair to all this?”
Rumplestiltskin chuckled, twirling his fingers as if weaving a spell. “Misdirection. That’s the key. The Yorks and Lancasters were both good at playing the long game, but they could’ve been better if they had employed elaborate disguises, secret identities, and even staged disappearances.”
Alice raised an eyebrow. “What? Like, pulling a fake death out of nowhere to throw off the other side?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Rumplestiltskin replied, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “Take Richard III, for example. He was already infamous for his ruthlessness, but imagine if, at a crucial point in the war, he staged his death and disappeared. The Lancasters would have been thrown into complete chaos, convinced they had finally crushed him. Meanwhile, Richard could have gone into hiding, rallying his supporters and striking when they least expected it.”
“Ah, so nothing new under the sun,” Alice snorted. “But I get it. Make them think you’re dead, then pop back up with a better strategy than before.”
“Exactly,” Rumplestiltskin agreed, grinning wickedly. “And it’s not just about disappearing—it’s about creating diversions at key moments. A false army, marching toward one battlefield to lure the Lancasters away from the real fight. Perhaps sending a group of doppelgangers to lead the charge in one location, while the real forces struck elsewhere, hidden behind an enchanted veil of smoke and fog.”
Loki’s eyes gleamed with interest. “So, you’re suggesting they could’ve used some illusion magic to mess with everyone’s heads? A whole army that doesn’t even exist?”
Rumplestiltskin nodded, his hands gesturing as though he were painting a picture in the air. “Indeed. And imagine this—let’s say one of the Yorks or Lancasters had a trusted spy, someone who could sneak into the enemy camp, disguised as one of their own men. This spy could plant false intelligence that leads them to make fateful decisions at the worst possible moment—decisions that result in them completely misreading the battlefield.”
Alice sat forward, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “Now we’re talking. A little cloak-and-dagger action to keep them all guessing. But tell me, Rumple—what happens when the disguise doesn’t work? When someone sees through the ruse?”
“Oh, that’s the beauty of it, Alice,” Rumplestiltskin said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “It’s not just about wearing the right clothes or using the right decoys. It’s about confidence. When you disguise yourself, it’s all about how you carry yourself. You’ve got to walk in, own the persona, and make them believe it with every step. If you show even the slightest hesitation, they’ll smell the deception. So you’ve got to play it cool. And if it all goes south? Well, you have a few escape routes planned, don’t you?”
“I do like a good escape plan,” Alice mused. “Maybe an underground tunnel leading straight to a secret hideout. No one knows where you went, and just like that—you’re back in the game. Or, better yet—mislead them into thinking you’ve gone one direction when you’re already waiting behind them.”
Loki laughed at the idea. “Classic move. But what if all this deception just causes the whole thing to spiral out of control? What’s the endgame when everyone is so tangled in lies?”
Rumplestiltskin gave a satisfied grin. “Ah, but that’s where the true genius of the war comes in. The endgame isn’t just about winning the battle—it’s about keeping everyone guessing, keeping everyone in a state of uncertainty. When your enemies are too busy looking over their shoulders, second-guessing every move, you’ve already won.”
“You really are something else, Rumple,” Alice said with a chuckle, sipping her tea again. “Creating chaos for fun and profit. I like it.”
“Nothing wrong with a little mischief,” Rumplestiltskin said, leaning back in his chair. “The War of the Roses wasn’t just about who had the most soldiers—it was about who had the most cunning, who could pull the strings from the shadows. If you want to win, you need to understand how to control the narrative. And if that means pulling off a few elaborate disguises, planting false information, or making the enemy think they’ve killed you off, well... so be it.”
Alice gave a sharp smile, leaning in with a wink. “I think the Yorks and Lancasters missed out on some serious tricks. Too bad. It would’ve been fun to watch them squirm.”
Rumplestiltskin grinned, eyes glinting. “Yes, well, everyone could use a little guidance from a master of misdirection.”
Loki stretched and stood, his smile wide. “It seems we’re all agreed then—if we had been around back then, the War of the Roses wouldn’t have been about thrones. It would have been about who could fool whom the most.”
“Let’s just say,” Alice said, swirling her tea one last time, “we would have made sure no one could see through our masks.”
And with that, the trio sat back, the air thick with the kind of unspoken chaos that only immortals can truly appreciate. Because in the end, it’s not always about who has the most soldiers, but who can control the battlefield from the shadows.
đź–‹️✨đź“śđź–¤
