THE FALL OF A MAGISTRATE

[Draeris 3124]

Bohemond riding with his Barclay protectors.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE FALL OF A MAGISTRATE

THE COLLAPSE OF BOHEMIAN POLITICS

 

“I fear for my life, monsieur Konrad”, he’d state to the Hanseti Lord-Palatine in nouveau Reza, breathing heavily in a haze of panic. It was barely a saint’s day ago that the Solicitor-General was warned about an assassination plot on himself and Jon-Paul, a fellow Imperial prominent and brother. Beside him was Peter de Sarkozy, also informing the Hanseti of his resignation. The trio of different allegiances formed a peculiar composition of the room, yet had an organic serenity to it. Namely, the trio had a similar heart that carried similar principles. Bohemian politics, Bohemond called it once to perhaps satisfy his ego, the politics of respecting the colourful differences that encompassed the human realm. It was a mentality that the gentlemen in the room carried close to their heart as well. “We will do our best to protect your life, friend” Konrad reassured “The Barclays live near you, call upon them or enter their keep whenever you feel your safety is threatened.'' 

 

Despite being a Lorrainés, Bohemond had never disliked the vassals of the realm like some of his contemporaries. The Imperial desire to centralize authority and apply uniformity to all of mankind, reminded him too much of the John de Balain genocide that brought a different peoples, culture & society to its knees as well. He found a friend in Konrad Stafyr, a staunch Hanseti who he considered a true equal. In Malcolm Goldhand, a dwarf who seemed to have undying loyalty. In the Barclays who, for no good reason, risked their lives to protect a figure of controversy. In the Suffolks who entrusted a strange family into their close society. Maybe even Katrien de Ruyter, who managed to forgive Bohemond despite his eternal shenanigans. No, Bohemond couldn’t relate to the animosity of the Imperial class. The people they despised happened to be his only friends. 

 

Once he returned to Helena, that assassination attempt never happened. While being enclosed in his dusty courthouse day by day, the Solicitor-General grew increasingly paranoid and melancholic regarding his existence within the Imperial apparatus. Disenfranchised from the bubbly socialites that spoke a different tongue, adhered to different politics and played by different rules, he couldn’t help but to feel like a ship drifting pointlessly at sea: no direction, no wind in its sails, merely existing because a Council Establishment Act said it did.

 

The Solicitor-General had fought, at least in his mind, vigilantly against the machinations of Grand Imperia, but to no avail. He lacked the trust within the etablissement to truly reform anything, being suspect of many sympathies dangerous to the government. A reputation of controversy and danger preceded him everywhere, as if a shadow of revolt followed him around wherever he went. Was that due to his outspokenness, or his Lorrainés roots? The answer to that now lies in the footnotes of Orenian history: a subject to be discussed by the few scholars that would ever deem his reign as Solicitor-General noteworthy. 

 

Alas, headspace can only store so much feverish bitterness at the many figures that wronged him. Perhaps he was more fragile than he seemed, or maybe the sentiments he needed were ungiven. Strip a man of his judicial robes, countic crown & noble blood; and you find a man merely requiring recognition for his merit, one who hungers for affection. A truly primitive desire that can strike anyone. The political machine wouldn’t stop for the tender sentiments of Bohemond, it wouldn’t spare his friends, nor would it respect his peers. The political machine did what it had to in its own ruthless, pragmatic magnificence. And to be apart of that machine, Bohemond could not.

 

With unusual calmth and solid determination, Bohemond knowingly leaked the resignation letters to THE GRAPEVINE, understanding it would result in his immediate firing. Perhaps an odd detour to achieve his desire, yet a crucial one nonetheless. As intended, his Imperial peers found out, and as anticipated, he was sacked. 

 

And with a mere courtly nod and a professional parting message, Bohemond de Leumont was Solicitor-General no more. Whatever his legacy was, Bohemond knew two things for sure: he fought for something that he believed in, and he didn’t betray the ones he cared for. With that knowledge, Bohemond held his chin high, and would ride towards his serene estate in Provins. Now that he exited Imperial politics he realized, to his own surprise, that the world was there exactly as he left it: a vibrant place filled with the warmest of people.

 

Ohh Helena our sweet maiden, he had to let you go, for his heart was always in another place.

 

[Beamon4 1690]

“Fare thee well, for now” Peter de Sarkozy would state solemnly before playing his harmonica 

 

[Forje 1]

Upon hearing the news, Lorraine would muse to herself, “Ah, I hope he handles it as well as he has so far...”

[TheNunnery 1853]

The now better Alice Elizabeth Capet, from her recent sickness had spoke softly as she took a sip of a tea “Ah a moment in history, shall this be forgotten or remembered? But for thou he did some idiotic things, for thou out the people of the very future shall make the choice!” Alice’s words would be in a soft tone as she deeply took a breathe, as she laid in her bed resting from her sickness.

[Lord of Boars 556]

“I’m just a common man, unamused by politics, but this Bohemond guy sure would make a good senator, “ says Lansen, glossing over the missive.

[clonky 1976]

Katrien de Ruyter would drum her fingers with impatience amongst the table, before her thoughts procured from her lips, falling off her tongue. ”I don’t know whether to declare him foolish, or to pity him.” She pondered, now falling back into a routine of strumming her digits along the surface. 

[Enlightenment 2300]

“A shame... God bless Lorraine...”

[Vermy 1484]

Sulraell is glad..