Omzdog climbs atop his horse with the aid of his squires. It is early morning and the English camp begins to rustle. He rides with a companion to an elevated wooded area which over looks the Polish camp. He notices the admirable flags standing tall above tents and ramparts.
"These Poles come in numbers. There are as many banners here below in this valley of Cornwall as there is sand on the beaches."
He notices the crests of many Polish knights he's fought on the field many times, good men whom he would sit at the table with and drink vast amounts of mead with.
The companion: "The Queen has scheduled the battle to begin on this day."
"Yes, it is inevitable that our forces fight today. Its still remarkable how fast they set up camp after their beach landing."
Time passes as the men assume counts of the Poles.
"We should be taking center right with a few peasant longbows at the vanguard. Tell the men to advance on their position slowly and keep the shieldwall solid, there should be no need to break for a charge unless Her Majesty demands it. As usual, I will be in the Queen's company. Her Majesty has also set a fallback route."
Omzdog takes out a map of the area.
"We are to go through the woods and convene if it is God's will for the Polish overwhelm us here."
A while passes before a humble delegation of Polish knights stumbles into Omzdog and his companion.

The battle was lost utterly later that day. The fighting was intense for the few English knights who, though valiant, fought a losing battle just before dusk approach. The Polish King gave the English the chance to collect the wounded and bury the dead as the army retreated back into country-land and the baggage was brought along side. The knights marched during night.
"What of the Kingdom?"
Omzdog's companion replied.
"England has gained control of a few of the heartland areas but most of the provinces lie outside of our current area of influence. The Queen shall bring back her lands, the real threat is the Polish who are currently concentrated in Cornwall. It will take much to break our enemy but they do tire and it is known that Jjarl looks for armistice so that he may continue his martial obligations in other lands."
"Yes, you are a good companion. We shall continue our discussion after dinner. This war has my head rattling."

Omzdog looks at his burned villa and estate.
"She has come down upon us. The Eagle has swooped, without fear or hesitation, and in its movement she has wounded the Lion. His neck in Her talons."
His horse spurs as if to confirm.
"Begin the reconstruction. I must be off to attend to matters at court, but I will send an architect to aid."

Omzdog had 3 barrels of mead to himself. His men drank in equally impressive measure, but none could match.
"Today, men of gentle birth... and those birthed from the wrong side of an ass (third Cambrian regiment gives a hoot), marks a day..."
He slumps his neck with his mouth open as if the Holy Spirit itself was to enter his body.
"Sire, a day for what."
"... Eh!?! A day for another barrel you damn fool! Attend me!
The Cambrian company raises glasses for their drunk lord before he falls off his chair.