Chapter 444: The Roman Empire

The smoke over Calais Beach has already cleared.

Zhu Yong stands on the city wall, gazing at the distant sea.

The English fleet has vanished; the few ships that fled toward the Northern Region disappear below the horizon.

The waves lap the shore, washing the dark‑red bloodstains clean bit by bit.

The prisoners have been marched into the city.

More than eight thousand English soldiers line up in a long queue, heads down, and shuffle through Calais city gate.

Their longbows and firearms have been confiscated and piled in the square at the gate like a small hill.

Henry V is locked in the basement of the Governor's Office.

The English king did not struggle much when he was taken down; his face was ashen, his lips pressed tight, and he said nothing.

"Prince, the battlefield has been cleared," Wang Gui says, stepping up from beneath the wall, his boots caked with mud and sand.

Zhu Yong nods without turning around.

"About three thousand English fled northward, probably back to England. The remaining eight thousand plus prisoners, together with those we already have from Burgundy and Brittany, bring our total to over twenty thousand."

"Integrate them as auxiliary troops and send them to repair the road from Calais south to Paris; the European roads need fixing, the horse‑drawn carriages can't run smoothly." Zhu Yong turns and says.

Wang Gui replies with a sound and asks, "What about those nobles? The Duke of Burgundy's nephew, the Duke of Brittany's nephew, and several English earls—are they all locked together?"

"They're locked up. Later we'll send them with Prince Cha Li Liu Shi back to Yingtian Prefecture, have General Feng arrange ships, and send this batch home first. Keeping them here also means feeding them, wasting grain." Zhu Yong pauses before speaking.

Wang Gui's mouth twitches, he suppresses a laugh, then turns and leaves.

Zhu Yong stands on the city wall, watching the scene inside Calais.

The Street has been more than half cleared, and Longxiang Army soldiers are scrubbing the walls with lime water while escorting prisoners.

A few local villagers squat at their doorways, watching the iron‑armored soldiers pass, their eyes no longer filled with the initial terror.

Get used to this, and it won't take long to form the habit.

The sound of horse hooves comes from afar.

Zhu Di rides in from the North Gate, dismounts, and strides up the city wall.

A trace of ash still clings to his face, but his spirits are high.

"Second Prince, we swept the coastal Northern Region and found no English ships; those that fled must have returned straight to England."

"If they ran, let them run. A few broken boats can't stir up waves, and you have ash on your face." Zhu Yong glances at him.

Zhu Di wipes his face with his sleeve.

"Second Prince, with England's defeat and Henry V captured, the English side is leaderless. Should we seize this chance to cross the sea and strike?"

"No rush…" Zhu Yong turns, looking at the plaza inside the wall.

In the plaza, the prisoners are being formed into units.

Longxiang Army soldiers hold a roster, calling out names one by one, with the English‑speaking men helping translate.

The scene is a bit chaotic but still orderly.

"Crossing the sea to fight the English requires ships; most of our vessels are in Bordeaux and Lisbon, and moving them will take time.

Moreover, winter is approaching, and the English Channel's winter winds and waves are not suitable for a crossing."

Zhu Di nods and says nothing further.

"Rest first; you've been exhausted these past few days." Zhu Yong pats his younger brother's shoulder.

Zhu Di grins, then turns and walks down the wall.

Zhu Yong stands on the wall again, watching for a while.

Calais is not large, but its position is strategic.

This is the English's last foothold on the continent, now in Great Ming's hands.

From now on, if the English try to meddle in European affairs, it won't be so easy.

He turns and heads toward the Governor's Office.

The Governor's Office stands at the city centre, a three‑story Stone building that was originally the English governor's residence in Calais.

It has now been requisitioned by Longxiang Army; the first‑floor hall has been turned into a temporary command post.

When Zhu Yong enters, Li Wenzhong is standing before a map.

"Cousin, what are you looking at?"

Li Wenzhong turns, pointing to a region on the map.

"Prince, look here: after the Duke of Burgundy was captured, his men scattered, but Burgundy itself remains. There are reports from Dijon that the duke's wife Marguerite is gathering forces and ready to negotiate with us."

"Negotiation…" Zhu Yong steps up to the map.

"Yes, a messenger arrived saying they wish to submit to Great Ming, but they want to retain the duke's title and lands."

"No title, no lands; the land will be confiscated, property registered, and the people sent to Yingtian Prefecture." Zhu Yong says evenly.

Li Wenzhong laughs, "Prince, that's the same as what you just said about the English nobles."

"These European nobles all share one trait: after a defeat they want to negotiate, and negotiate to keep their territories. Such a thing doesn't exist under heaven."

Zhu Yong sits in his chair, takes a sip from his Water Bag.

"Cousin, the Burgundy matter isn't urgent; first secure Calais, settle the prisoners, then look east."

"East?" Li Wenzhong walks over.

"The Holy Roman Empire— that man Xijisimonde won't sit idle; he is certainly contacting various forces, hoping to fight us."

Li Wenzhong frowns: "The Holy Roman Empire's territory is vast, its feudal lords many, forces are scattered; if a war breaks out it's not hard to fight, just troublesome."

"Trouble must be fought; if we don't, they'll think Great Ming is easy to bully. Not now— first clean up France, secure the south, then move east." Zhu Yong puts down his Water Bag.

Li Wenzhong nods, turns and continues studying the map.

Zhu Yong leans back in his chair, eyes closed.

The English were defeated, the Burgundians collapsed, the French surrendered.

The Iberian Peninsula is entirely in Great Ming's hands, France is entirely in Great Ming's hands. But Europe is not limited to these.

The Holy Roman Empire still lies to the east, with feudal lords standing like a forest, each governing themselves.

Emperor Xijisimongde is a sly old fox, who will not easily go to war with Great Ming, but will not surrender easily either.

There is also the Pope, in Rome.

Those forces will eventually clash.

But that is a matter for next year.

"Prince, dinner is ready," Wang Gui walked in from the doorway, carrying a tray.

Zhu Yong opened his eyes and took the tray.

One bowl of rice, one dish of pickled vegetables, two pieces of marinated meat.

Being able to eat rice in Europe is already a luxury.

The rice was shipped from Great Ming, across thousands of miles.

He took two bites, then suddenly remembered something.

"Wang Gui, any news from elder brother?"

"Not yet; the letter took only half a month to send back, and a round trip takes at least two months."

Zhu Yong nodded and continued eating.

In his last letter to Zhu Biao, he mentioned the European church and asked elder brother to send some Taoist priests and Confucian scholars over.

Sending the letter back takes time, and dispatching people also takes time.

It will be at least a few months.

In these months, first clean the European church thoroughly.

"Prince, General Feng has arrived," the Imperial Troops at the door reported.

Zhu Yong set down his bowl and stood up.

Feng Sheng strode in, his iron armor covered in dust, yet his face bore a smile.

"Prince, the ship is ready; we can set out early tomorrow."

"Set out? Where to?" Zhu Yong was startled.

"To return the prisoners to the Heavenly Prefecture, right? Weren't you just now telling me to arrange the ship?" Feng Sheng was also taken aback.