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THE ROCHEFORTINE ABDICATION


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Robert Foltest Helvets, the third Count Rochefort reads in the study of the Trissingham Estate, 1808.

 

It had been a rarely quiet summers afternoon for the Rochefortine heir on this tremendously peculiar day. Granted a brief reprieve from his menial duties, Robert had quickly taken to his favourite pastime. Longing for a sense of escapism the young Helvets had found himself quickly residing within the Trissingham library, becoming lost in tales both factual and fiction as he nursed over a glass of Rochefortine Scotch.

 

Disappointment soon overcame him as he found himself being disturbed by a telegram. Casting his book to one side he had accepted the telegram with as much polite courtesy as he could muster, not wanting to appear rude. His begrudging soon gave way to feelings of shock and dread as he quickly  recognised the wax seal imprinted upon the rolled up parchment  - the Rochefortine seal.

 

Breaking the seal open and unravelling the parchment, Robert would begin to divulge in its contents quietly.

 

Robert,

 

It’s time for you to become a man. It’s time for you to become the Count of Rochefort. For the past eight years I have kept this letter and its contents safe with a trusted telegram service, to be delivered unto your person when you turned eighteen. Now that day has come, but mark the contents of this letter well my boy.

 

The title is controversial. That’s the fault of your grandfather and I. But him and I never stopped fighting - perhaps you’ll have to take on the world as we did one day, perhaps not. Put your mind to any aim you please and you can achieve it. The world is your oyster now.

 

It’s a bloody shock that you’ve lasted this long without going insane. The idea of being back in that palace makes my stomach churn. But when you read this letter, don’t beat yourself up about it or fall into despair. Knock back a glass of Rochefort Scotch for me, and remember the good times we shared.

 

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you and your siblings when you needed me the most. But everything I did, everything I tried to do… it was for you, Robert. Always remember that.

 

Yours truly,

Adrian Othodoric Helvets

Dated 20th Owyns Flame, 1800

 

Attached to the bottom of the letter would be a small piece of artwork - a striking still which Robert had recognised seeing many years ago. Adrian had sent Charlotte the same art piece before their eventual divorce. It was him as a young man in Owynsburg with his dog Castor.

 

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Spoiler

(( I'm writing this on the behalf of Draeris, as he is currently forum banned. He has given me full permission to do this and I can provide Discord DMs as proof if needed ))

 

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The Dowager Countess exuded a patient, if not relieved, smile. It had been nearly a decade since she had seen her husband last; now, her step-children's fates were secured. 

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“Pardon me? The horrible count blames it on his father? It is his father and his fault for digging their own graves! The grand old count slaughtered their own daughter and his son abused his last wife and was a horrible husband to the same woman! Well now at least they are both gone!” Leana d’Emyth commented while drinking tea in her lavish estate within Aeldin, while having a shocked but interested tone when speaking with her fellow middle aged and like-minded gentlewoman of high society.

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“Stupid bastard. Stupid bastard was boasting about being the Count of Rochefort...” Margaret Annabelle Helvets would sarcastically remark about her father. Sitting in that same study, she rose from her seat in a graceful manner, ran down the pristine marble staircase, and out the door into a coach directed right for the heart of the city.

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The Dowager Duchess of Cathalon received the news in due time, a young ladies maid delivering the it with a tea tray as the woman lounged in one of the drawing rooms of her estate. She read over the brief announcement, glancing to a certain Seyami friend to remark, "Finally, someone can begin to bring a bit of respect to that line. We shall have to send the young Count a bouquet and a bottle of brandy as congratulations."

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"No doubt many jimmies have been rustled. Ignore the gossip and the sinner good Rochefort, for both are a waste of oxygen." spoke Father de Bourdon, looking up briefly as he uttered his goodly prayer for the new Count.

 

Edited by Tiresiam
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Margaux Helvets wore a fond smile as she thought of her dear cousin, she had overheard the news of his transformation into Count through her mother as the young Helvetti woman was preparing to tend to her garden.  Her pomeranian and poodle, Fergus and Lucille, accompanied her outside in order to bask in the sunlight.  "I've high expectations for him," Margaux idly commented to her dogs, though mostly thought aloud to herself as she watered her Kaedreni roses.  "Perhaps I ought to send him a celebratory bouquet as well as some gifts."

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Whilst striding amidst the halls of the Augustine Palace, Milena Carrion comes to a slow pause upon hearing the hushed ramblings of two passing female courtiers. News of the abdication within the Rochefortine line of Helvets reaches her ear, but she pays little heed to these words of gossip after a moment's worth of eavesdropping. Merely, the pale-faced Carrion youth finds a comfortable spot away from the ladies' whispering hearsay to delve into her poetry. Little had she heard of the new count, but mulled over offering her congratulations in hopes for a better time for a family whose recent history was not so. Her anxieties overwhelmed her otherwise, and she refrained from penning such a letter. 

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