Christmas arrived in the blink of an eye. Although Laszlo spent the holiday in the army, he did not feel lonely or isolated.
His two sons, who had been thoroughly tempered by military life, were now by his side, and allies and vassals came to visit, giving the camp a bustling atmosphere for a time.
However, as it was wartime, large-scale banquets were naturally impossible to hold, though there were many small-scale celebrations throughout the various camps.
The closer it got to the New Year, the more frequent the negotiators sent from the city became.
They were now planning to accept the terms previously proposed by the Emperor; if they did not, the majority of the city's population would be besieged to death in Paris by the allied forces.
Unfortunately, how could there be such a convenient thing in this world?
At the beginning of the siege, the army's expenses were not yet high, so Laszlo could naturally ask for less, also in the interest of ending the war as soon as possible.
But now that the siege had lasted for several months, Laszlo's patience had worn thin. Thus, he demanded a ransom of 1 million florins, and additionally, the citizens had to restore the King of Burgundy's palace and markets in Paris.
Such conditions quickly brought the negotiations to a standstill once again.
After Louis XI fled, a large number of upper-class nobles and wealthy citizens, sensing the tide had turned, hurriedly fled Paris with their wealth. Many of them were plundered along the way, and only a few managed to escape.
Those who remained in the city out of wishful thinking, along with the Parisians who were unwilling to leave their homes, had together rejected the Emperor's initial proposal.
Now, they had to pay a bitter price for their original choice.
Perhaps squeezing the wealth of most of the people in the city could raise the 1 million florins, but how would their lives continue afterward?
There was also the Count of Comminges, who was responsible for defending Paris. He was a staunch opponent of the peace talks and was very angry that the Parisians had taken it upon themselves to ask the Archbishop to leave the city to negotiate.
However, the French King had only left him, the commander of Paris, a little over a hundred men, while the main force defending the city was the four thousand-strong militia organized by various Parisian guilds. From this power disparity alone, it was actually very difficult for him to interfere with the city council's decisions.
These militiamen would follow his arrangements for defense on the walls, but they would not allow him to take action against the city council that governed Paris.
The maintenance of such a fragmented structure within the city instead provided the besieging army with an opportunity.
Charles, the King of Burgundy who vehemently denied his France lineage, ultimately still benefited from his father's legacy.
Philip III 'the Good' had renovated the Hôtel d'Artois in Paris, creating a magnificent residence for the Duke of Burgundy and patronizing the markets established around it, ensuring that the influence of the House of Burgundy never strayed far from Paris.
Although Louis XI had tried his best to purge the remaining Burgundian forces in Paris after several conflicts of the War of the Public Weal, some oversights had occurred.
As time passed, the citizens in the city felt an increasingly profound sense of despair, which also allowed those conspirators to find an opening.
After several secret contacts, some Parisians who had received guarantees decided to open one of Paris's city gates for Charles at the beginning of the New Year.
In the Emperor's main camp, Laszlo was enjoying a holiday feast with his two sons.
There were no piles of fish, poultry, or roasted meats, only a few plates of carefully prepared dishes, which could generally be described as sumptuous.
As for the alcohol, it was consumed in moderation. Although there was no prohibition in the army, it was wartime, and Laszlo did not want to be dead drunk on the battlefield.
Just as the two boys were pestering Laszlo to let them taste the wine, Charles burst in excitedly.
"Your Majesty, you must see this... It seems I've come at a bad time."
Despite saying so, Charles still walked to Laszlo's side and handed over the secret letter in his hand.
His gaze swept over Christopher, who was sitting upright because of his arrival, and Maximilian, who was looking at him with curiosity, and a hint of envy unconsciously surfaced in the depths of his eyes.
He had heard that the Emperor had recently added another son, yet he only had one daughter so far. It would be wonderful if one of the Emperor's many sons could be given to him.
Of course, Charles only thought such things in his heart.
He spent most of his days in the army or presiding over joint provincial meetings to draft laws and implement reforms; he personally attended to almost all matters in Burgundy, large and small.
Such diligence on one hand certainly helped him establish strong authority within the kingdom, but on the other hand, it also dampened his subordinates' enthusiasm for work.
Furthermore, overwork was said to damage a man's fertility, or perhaps there was some issue with his wife's health; in any case, the birth of his second child seemed to be a long way off.
In that case, the foundation of Burgundy might end up benefiting this boy—thinking this, Charles's gaze toward Christopher took on a somewhat scrutinizing quality.
Laszlo, however, was unaware of Charles's rich psychological activity in those few seconds. He curiously took the letter from Charles's hand, and his eyes lit up after reading it.
"Is this insider of yours reliable?"
"Yes, they are old acquaintances of my father and loathe Louis XI's rule, so they intend to assist us in exchange for their own safety."
"This reminds me of the old stories about your grandfather."
Decades ago, during the Burgundian-Armagnac civil war, the Armagnac faction controlled Paris and implemented a harsh rule.
The Parisian citizens could not bear the harassment and thus invited the then Duke of Burgundy, John 'the Fearless', to lead his army into the city, launching a brutal purge of the Armagnac faction.
The grandfather of Jean V, the Duke of Armagnac who was currently serving Laszlo, was the leader of the Armagnac faction at that time. He was captured by Charles's grandfather, publicly humiliated, and executed.
At that time, after years of the Black Death's ravages and continuous warfare, the population of Paris had just recovered to over a hundred thousand, and more than twelve thousand people were slaughtered or expelled in the Great Purge orchestrated by John.
Shortly after that, when John and Charles VII agreed to a peace talk, Armagnac assassins stabbed John to death on the bridge where the negotiations were held, ultimately leading Burgundy to side completely with England and handing over the capital of France to foreigners.
History is a giant circle; what has been will be again.
Mentioning this, Charles's expression also turned cold, and he said hatefully, "That shameless scoundrel Charles VII used the opportunity of negotiations to order the assassination of my grandfather.
My father felt regret all his life for not being able to avenge this, but now I finally have the chance to get revenge on that equally shameless Louis XI."
Charles's words were full of determination, but Laszlo's expression looked strange as he listened.
In terms of so-called new and old grudges, perhaps for Charles, his grandfather's death wouldn't move him too much; it merely planted the seeds of an irreconcilable conflict between Valois and Burgundy. Louis XI's various insults to him were the reason Charles was now standing outside Paris with him.
It was truly a tragedy; the hatred of several generations continued and accumulated, and what were originally kinsmen had now become mortal enemies. How could one not sigh?
However, for Laszlo, this was instead a great thing.
As the saying goes, the strongest fortresses are always broken from within.
If the French royal family and the Three Princes of the Lilies had worked together in harmony, France would have likely dominated the European continent long ago, and there would have been no suffering from the Hundred Years' War or the miserable situation today.
Fortunately, the House of Valois produced 'talents' in every generation who tore a perfectly good France into pieces.
Uncles and nephews turning against each other and brothers fighting were commonplace, so much so that an outsider like Laszlo fighting his way to France felt like returning home, with supporters everywhere.
"Since there is such a good opportunity, we naturally cannot let it pass. I will have the soldiers prepare to launch an attack on the southern side of the city on the agreed day."
"Then I'll leave it to you."
Charles left satisfied after receiving an affirmative answer.
A few days passed in a flash, and at the appointed time, the long-silent cannons roared once again.
This time, all the firepower was directed at the city walls. The Paris walls, which had already been battered by days of shelling previously, suffered multiple collapses under half a day of intense bombardment.
Subsequently, the soldiers who had been waiting in readiness behind the wooden siege walls surrounding Paris gripped their cold weapons, doing their best to endure the severe cold as they launched an assault on the walls of Paris.
During the preceding months of the siege, the Imperial Army had not been idle. In addition to establishing camps and long siege walls, they had also carried out more earthworks under the direction of engineers, building many pontoon bridges over the Paris moat, which now came in handy.
Faced with the sudden attack from all directions by the besieging army, the defenders in the city were immediately thrown into chaos, struggling to cope.
The citizens who heard the cannons were even more terrified; they had completely not expected the allied forces to launch an attack on New Year's Day.
"The first warriors to scale the walls can receive a reward of two hundred gold florins, the title of Imperial Knight, and a fief! The wealth within Paris is waiting for you to plunder!"
The shouts of the commanders echoed among the soldiers standing in readiness.
Many people shook their bodies and gripped their weapons tighter, their bodies trembling incessantly from cold, excitement, and fear.
The attraction of a reward worth several years' salary was indeed not small, but the title of Imperial Knight and a fief were clearly even better.
This was precisely the highest pursuit for these professional soldiers who lived by the blade—wealth, status, and land.
The first wave of the assault was repelled by the defenders putting up a desperate struggle on the walls, but before they could catch their breath, the second wave of the attack had already begun.
Just as the two sides were in the heat of battle, the city suddenly fell into a state of chaos. As the confusion spread, a rumor of uncertain truth also spread among the defenders: the Burgundians had captured the North Gate and were already slaughtering their way into the city.
Upon hearing that someone had ambushed the gate guards and let the Burgundians in, the defending commander, Marshal Risken, nearly fainted from anger on the spot.
He subsequently organized an army to head to the northern part of the city to resist the Burgundian forces, but unfortunately, it did not have much effect, as the north was already in total chaos.
After suffering nearly three thousand casualties, the Imperial Army broke through the walls of Paris along the path opened by the cannons.
After that, the defenders, whose morale was shaken, were also unable to defend the southern walls and were forced to retreat into the city.
The final fighting took place at the Royal Palace and the Bastille. Until dark, these two 'hard bones' could not be cracked.
With the gates open, the allied soldiers pouring into the city began to sweep through house by house, plundering wealth and clearing remaining resistance.
The winter night was bitterly cold, and many couldn't help but find a French woman to warm their beds; in short, once they entered the city, the constraints of military discipline almost ceased to exist.
The only thing those who had seen red clearly remembered was the Emperor's promise.
Except for not being allowed to wantonly burn houses, everything else was permitted, with free plundering for six days.
For spoils exceeding 10 florins, soldiers would hand over one-ninth, and commanders one-third, all to be paid into the Emperor's private treasury.
The Burgundians had the same rules. According to tradition, Charles also had to hand over one-third of his spoils to Laszlo. After some negotiation, Charles finally agreed to this distribution plan.
Although the process would be cruel, these were the rules of war.
Soon, a catastrophe descended upon Paris, turning it into a living hell.
A few days later, when the Duke of Berry hurriedly arrived with his army, he only saw the walls in ruins, smoke rising everywhere in the city, and Imperial soldiers escorting carts of spoils to the Emperor's camp.
Not only were there gold and silver jewels packed in sturdy wooden crates, but also a large number of books and documents hidden in the University of Paris, and even exquisite sculptures and other works of art from the city were being transported out of the gates on ox-drawn carts.
As he moved deeper into the city along the road, the young Duke felt his entire heart bleeding.
Dead bodies were everywhere, and blood was scattered randomly on the ground, quickly congealing into a dark purple due to the cold.
It was hard to imagine that he was currently in the capital of the Kingdom of France; perhaps it was more suitable to be called a bloody slaughterhouse, as even the waters of the Seine River were almost dyed red.
Not a single living Parisian citizen could be seen on the streets, only Imperial or Burgundian patrol squads weaving through the alleys.
Some of them saw the Duke's party and the Fleur-de-lis flag held high by the standard-bearer beside him, and subsequently showed expressions of disdain and mockery.
To all of this, the Duke of Berry chose to turn a blind eye.
His army was required to stay outside the city, and the Emperor's envoy led him and his personal guards all the way to the Île de la Cité.
Inside Notre-Dame de Paris, Laszlo and Charles had already been waiting for him for a long time.
After repeatedly confirming the treaty he had made with the Emperor and the Pope, the tense atmosphere in the cathedral also eased quite a bit.
"Then congratulations, Your Grace," Laszlo said to the Duke of Berry with a normal expression. "Did you remember to bring your crown?"
The Duke's face was gloomy, and he nodded with a heavy heart.
After reaching an agreement with the Emperor, he had soon spent thousands of florins to have a crown made for himself, and he had brought it with him this time.
At this time, Charles patted his old ally the Duke of Berry on the shoulder and comforted him, "This is a worthwhile deal. Didn't you want to try being King early on?"
This was precisely the original intention of the League of Public Weal's formation: to support the Duke of Berry in becoming the French King to protect the public interests of the French nobility.
Hearing this, the Duke of Berry gave a forced smile and, after a moment of hesitation, still summoned the courage to ask, "I wonder what you two plan to do next?"
"The six-month term is arriving in the blink of an eye, and the Imperial Diet is already urging me to disband the army. The heavy responsibility of punishing Louis XI will likely have to be handed over to you."
Laszlo answered straightforwardly. His goal had basically been achieved; except for the major trouble in the south that had disrupted the rhythm, everything else was not an issue.
"My great army has also experienced years of warfare and is exhausted. I'm afraid we need to retreat to the Low Countries to rest for a while..."
Charles was actually a bit conflicted; he didn't really want to go back, but the States-General had already begun to protest to him.
Seeing both 'big legs' preparing to leave, the Duke of Berry, who had just been repulsed by their violence in Paris, suddenly felt a bit panicked.
Fortunately, the envoy of the Duke of Brittany and the Duke of Nemours spoke up in time to reassure him.
A few days later, witnessed by the Papal Legate, the Emperor, and the King of Burgundy, the Duke of Berry was crowned as the new king in Paris, accepting the fealty of many North French nobles, and took the name Charles VIII.
Thereafter, Charles VIII took over this Paris with a remaining population of less than a hundred thousand, the Burgundian army returned to the Low Countries, and the Imperial Army turned toward Dijon.