A New Man

[Sprinkles 39]

          Claudius stood on the balcony on his castle, Chateau d’ Halcourt, and thought, something he did often. He gazed up at the stars as the cool night air hit his face. Most nights he thought about politics or schemes. He pondered political meetings, both future ones and past. He attempted to unravel non-existent plots against him, concocted by his enemies. He thought of his plans for his barony that would soon be built to cover the empty island of his that he looked over then. But this was not most nights. Tonight he thought about his daughter’s near death, something that was troubling him very much. It was unusual, for he was almost never surprised or at a loss for words. No, he had contingencies for that. Many contingencies for nearly every possible scenario that was not in his favor, and he was working on the rest. He lived in a metaphorical bubble, not doing anything that he did not plan rigorously. But then he realized something, something he had not before. He came to the realization that he had made all of these contingency plans for himself, but not for others. This was a habit that had happened a very long time ago, when he did not care for others unless they were integral to his success. But now, he did have a few others he cared about. namely, his wife and children. He could have been making plans for his family, not just himself. He was the reason his daughter had nearly died.

          Claudius was so shaken by this revelation that he physically staggered back. The realization hit him like a rock flung from a catapult. He realized the he had been a bad father, a bad husband, and a bad man. He had cared about his family, but not more than he cared about himself. This changed, that night on the balcony. He was so overwhelmed with guilt that his heart began to ache. If Claudius was his usual self in this instance, he would have questioned why his emotions were having somewhat of a change on his physical health, but he was in no state of mind to do so then. He rushed back inside, going to kiss his sleeping wife gently on the forehead before rushing out the door.

          He hurried up to the gates of Avalain, the city he knew so well. “Name, purpose, and reas-” The guard monitoring the gates said, before realizing who Claudius was. “Go on ahead, M’lord.” He said, bowing his head in respect. “Claudius.” He corrected the guard as he sped into the city. Claudius got a few fake smiles on his way through the city. He knew they were fake because he gave his own fake smiles so often. He knew what they looked like. “Good afternoon, my lord,” The teller of the bank said to Claudius’ approach. “Another deposit to make?” Claudius looked at the man. “A withdrawal, in fact. And it’s just Claudius.” He said, correcting the teller as he had the guard. “No problem, ah, Claudius. How much with you withdraw today?” Claudius gave a faint smile through his overwhelming guilt, a smile that had not been seen by anyone in a very long time. “All of it.” The bank teller looked surprised. “Are you sure?” He asked, tentatively. “Oui, all of it.” Claudius said, with his well known determination. “Very well,” The teller said, handing Claudius his quite literal fortune. “Good day my l- Claudius.” Claudius nodded to the man before hurrying away just as fast as he had came. He continued to think about his negligence, his failure to protect anyone but himself. As he ran through the city, he came across a homeless beggar. “My lord, if you could spare a few minas for food. . .” The man quietly said to Claudius. On most days, he wouldn’t have even looked. But today was different. He reached out and gave the man over 300 minas. He didn’t even pause to hear the beggar’s thanks as he continued to rush out of the city.

          Claudius arrived back at his castle, and was surprised to find that his first thought was “How many families could I have fed with the funds it took to build this place?” He pondered this for a moment. “An inexcusable amount of families.” He said, another wave of guilt hitting him. He got inside and sat at his desk, seeing the plans for Artois all around him. “My children will be able to build this. To accomplish my dream.” He thought, another slight genuine smile escaping him. “Or maybe they won’t. I’ve been such a bad father, maybe they won’t feel like accomplishing my dream.” He thought sadly, the guilt still throbbing in his chest. He began to write a note to his family.

“Dear lovely family,

I’ve been terrible to you all, I realize this now. And I am sorry. The guilt I possess is immeasurable. You all do not deserve to continue living the monster that I am. I love you all more than I love myself by an infinite magnitude. I wish you nothing but success and happiness. All of my assets will be left to you four. I love you.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           -Your Terrible Father,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Claudius Halcourt.

          Claudius then rushed out of the door, back into the cold. He wondered if his family would miss him, as he walked away from his island and the city he grew up in. Perhaps they would. “Wishful thinking.” He thought with an inward sigh. Claudius was suddenly aware of his very expensive coat he was wearing, and was so disgusted he took it off and threw it into the trees. He continued to walk, wondering why he wasn’t crying by now. “Because the monster isn’t capable of it.” He sneered at himself, and he was somewhat right. He had trained himself not to cry, and so he didn’t as he walked along the road. He didn’t know where he was going, but hopefully he wouldn’t hurt anyone else wherever he ended up. The guilt throbbed through him, as the almighty Claudius Halcourt was defeated by himself.

 

(OOC: Thank you all for the incredible journey Claudius has been, everyone who I’ve met through him and everyone I’ve had an impact on. He’s been such a fun character to play, so thank you for everyone who made it possible. I love every single one of you.

[EmiliainWonderland 1526]

Upon reading the note, Elizabeth shed what felt like gallons of tears. 

“You’re a fool Claudius.” She snarled. She felt nothing but contempt, but not for him, herself. 

He left her behind, she knew this was likely bound to happen, because she had never been a perfect wife, she never showed him how much she truly loved him, not since her children had been born. Her fingers traced the edge of the parchment, a heavy sigh falling from her lips. “A terrible father.” She felt a lump in her throat when she re-read that. He had done everything she was incapable of doing. She was a terrible wife, a terrible mother. He was kind and loving, even if it seems like he never felt that way. 

 

“Je suis desole, mon cheri.” She mumbled in Auvergnian, the language she picked up from Claudius himself.

 

“I’m sorry for not being a better wife, but I will always love you. May you at last find the peace that I could never give you.” The petite woman knew her cries and apologies would never be heard by the man she had loved for a lifetime,  so she simply dropped the letter, falling to her knees and sobbing uncontrollably.

 

 

[Gutz 390]

Leon would return to his small abode after hearing the news of his father's death, his face flushed from the run here. He would heave a few heavy breaths, trying to maintain a composed composure even in the privacy of his own room. 

 

He would recall the letter, apoun which he had been thankfully allowed to read before it was passed to the next member of his family- all to share the devastating news. Tears would prick the boy's eyes as he recalled the scrawled words, quickly brushing them away on the sleeve of his jacket. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye he would spot some parchment and his usual quill, biting his lip in thought. A letter shouldn't be left unresponsive. And so the man would sit at his desk- beginning to scribble out ink onto the praline white page, filling it with neat and practiced handwriting.

 

A glance at his clock, it would read 12:00. He had been writing for about an hour, he wanted every word to perfect. He would give a satisfactory sigh, his face puffy from tears he would never admit to shedding. His drink, a small glass of Hightower wine which had been his father's assuming favorite, sat on the desk. Leon would reach out, picking up the cup in a gentle grasp- holding it up.

 

"A toast! To my father's legacy and his ever lasting impact on our small world" and to that, he would drink.