THE AMICABLE HUNT, 1758

[Draeris 3124]

 

 

 

Ser Osvald Barclay and Monsignor Krisztián Károly hunting sparrows, 1758.

 

 

 

THE AMICABLE HUNT

 

It began as an innocent ordeal: Anton Barclay pursuing Monsignor Krisztián for a Canonist education in his journey to priesthood. While the two developed an intricate friendship despite their difference in the clerical hierarchy: their good relations did not transfer to the Károly and Barclay kin. 

 

A spontaneous visit to Reza brought forth an altercation in the library, with Osvald Barclay calling Lajos Károly a Qalasheeni, and the latter calling the first a Sutican. The two parties argued on the semantics of identity, with the prospect of drawing swords being more and more likely with the rising heat. A young Barclay had called the guards, who resolved the situation: but they had not resolved the bitter aftertaste that followed. 

 

A week later: Krisztián Károly steps in between a Lotharingian child and Osvald Barclay with his military colleagues. An argument of morality arises which once again escalates to near action. The guards begin to ride the child away from the city on horseback, as the screaming priest summoned the Lord-Regent to intervene. A trial followed with a verdict that pleased the then Father Krisztián, but annoyed Osvald Barclay.

 

In the many minor discussions, interactions and crossing of paths that followed: a rising disdain for each other would become more prevalent. Anton Barclay, the man related to Osvald but befriended to Krisztián, seemed to dissatisfy both parties in his attempt to reach a middle ground. Too indifferent to be a Barclay, too conflicted to be dedicated to GOD. An innocent man now a pawn in the conflict between two bickering individuals. 

 

Krisztián had been bothered by Osvald’s vague hostility towards him, or rather, what he considered vague. Osvald had good reason to distrust the gregarious blonde, despite his expressed good intentions. Not only did he come from a land that historically looked down on Hanseti-Ruska: he served an Imperial institution that had tried to meddle with his homeland not so long ago. To add insult to injury: the man broke bread and socialized with those that actively opposed the progress of his house, his family and his own career. Krisztián had unknowingly become an extension of the alienation that the Barclay had to endure. He had simply insulted him: a man committing so many minor transgressions was not a man that Osvald Barclay could trust.

 

But the craven man didn’t dare to confront Osvald about his hostility, and opted to write a series of letters from the safety of St. Thomas. With sentences such as: “I come with utmost good intentions and genuine interest about your house”, “I wish to express my desire to reconcile: if not for us, then for my friend and your father Anton Barclay” and “please see that I mean no harm to you or your kin”, he hoped to sway the young Barclay to accept him.

 

Anton had at some point found the letters, forcing his son to meet with Krisztián on an arranged hunt in the plains behind Old-Reza. What began as an awkward journey full of sly remarks and taunts, ended up as a genuine moment between two men with a story.

 

“So was your father a count in Kaedrin?” Osvald inquired, halting his horse in front of the unfinished canal. 

“No.” Krisztián chuckled “I’m the first generation that can read in my family. My father was a farmer, then a monk”. 

The two would turn the horses the other way around “Aha, so you grew up as peasants then?” he asked the Monsignor, straightening his posture on the horse. “Igen. I still wouldn’t call myself rich, but I don’t pursue wealth to begin with”. 

A first point of similarity was discovered: “Much like my uncle Wilheim then.” Osvald nodded: “He only serves and lives humbly, despite being the Count.” 

Krisztián smiled back at Osvald “Quite a honorable man he must. Most counts I meet are.-”

“Pretentious manlets?” Osvald interjected jokingly, riding forward. 

“I mean..” Krisztián winked, laughing along as he kept up with his pace. 

 

They continued talking about their histories, finding that servitude and a no-nonsense personality had a place in both cultures. Although their hunt turned relatively unsuccessful, the two managed to obtain a profound understanding of each other’s stories. 

 

“I can’t relate with you on that Osvald. Kaedrin has been kind to us. I can’t imagine them looking down on us like that”. Krisztián pondered. 

“It’s fine really, after decades everybody just gets used to it. It’s all about expectations and staying true to yourself, y’know?” Osvald replied.

“I guess so” Krisztián would state, scratching his head. He had feelings of sympathy and respect for Osvald. For somebody so close to his own age, to be so comfortable with climbing the social obstacles erected against him: it truly had something pious in Krisztián’s eyes.

 

They had arrived in the edges of Vuillermoz, finding a small encampment of musicians tuning their instruments. “What kind of music do they listen to in Kaedrin. You know, aside of Canonist chants?” Osvald would joke, evoking the cultural arrogance of Krisztián “I’m more into Raevir poetry and love songs, actually”. “

 

Great then.” Osvald would get off his horse at the encampment, beckoning for the Monsignor to do the same. After a bit of chatter and finding a comfortable log to sit on, the musicians attempted to play a song about a Raevir girl seeking recognition from a renowned soldier. While sharing a satchel of water, the two simply enjoyed the music as they sat in harmony. 

 

In the end, reconciliation didn’t seem that hard after all. 

 

[MadOne 4945]

Ser Osvald takes in a deep breath, as he paced around in his steed around Reinmar, frowning, not knowing if he should feel rejoice for getting to know the man he perceived as evil better, or if he should be angry at himself for giving ground to a Kaedreni foreigner. While he laid on his bed, he silently thanks his father, for letting him at the least have another accomplice.