Xarkly 12489 Popular Post Share Posted November 16, 2021 THE DUKE AND THE DAUGHTER Spoiler The warble of a flock of goldcrests echoed across the fields of Cathalon as the cavalry rode through. The summer sun had ebbed towards the horizon, and so the rolling Orenian grasslands, sparsely populated by clusters of oaks and pines, were bathed in a deep orange light and marred with long, sharp shadows. The sky was a deeper orange still, and lonely streaks of clouds were hued pink near the setting sun. Even if it was too hot by Haeseni standards, it was a peaceful evening. Sigismund, however, did not feel at peace. The King of Haense rode at the head of a column of riders as they trot down the trodden dirt road that wound north from Cathalon into the Grenzi. Beneath the rippling folds of the back-gold banner of Haense - carried by Marie Ludovar - mailed men and women of the Knight’s Table and the Brotherhood of Saint Karl rode, laughing and chatting raucously. The older soldiers grinned ruefully as they compared today’s escapades to the horrors they had endured in the Nachezer or Troll War while passing a skin of Carrion back and forth, while a knot of squires hoarsely bellowed the lyrics to Trollsayer’s Ballad. One of the Brotherhood armigers - Sigismund did not recognize them - had pulled out a flute to put some reedy notes behind the shouts. “How can we fight such evil, the red walls asked in fright! But her defenders did not falter, for they were Haeseni Knights!” “You ought to at least try to look happy,” chided a voice at Sigismund’s side. The King gave Kaustantin Baruch a sidelong look. In turn, the Ayrian Palatine tried to give him a reassuring smile as the sun shimmered brightly on the lens of his spectacles. “This was a success. Your honour was avenged, and the girl got her due.” Sig grunted doubtfully. He craned his head in Aeron’s saddle to look behind him, past the steel-clad forms of Ser Flemius and Dame Tavisha - who rode at his flank - to the two women behind the Knights. One of them - his mother, Queen-Mother Annika - rode in divided skirts beneath her fur coat, and despite being well into her middle years, her mature features and fiery hair lent her a regal aura. Klara - Sigismund’s infant daughter - rode in the Queen-Mother’s lap, clapping her hands playfully as a butterfly flew past. It was, however, the woman riding beside his mother that caught Sigismund’s attention. Henrietta Helvets rode slumped in her saddle, and despite the shawl covering the younger woman’s face, Sigismund could still see her shoulders heave with silent sobs. Annika caught Sigismund’s look, and returned a concerned one of her own, before the King looked back to the road ahead with a frustrated hiss while the squires continued their ill-tuned song. “Ser Boris did hold the gate against the ghastly wind! He stood firm and met his foe even as his forces thinned!” “This was meant to be about protecting Henrietta,” Sigismund said through grit teeth as the road came to a wide long bridge that spanned over a tributary of the Staal Eada river, shallow this time of year in the absence of spring rains. Past the bridge, the fir trees that marked the entrance to the Grenzi - the hills of northern Oren - stood. It had been just over two hours since the Haeseni party left Cheval Hall -- the seat of House Helvets, and Henrietta’s home. Or former home, I should say. The very reason that Sigismund rode in Oren with his Knights and soldiers was because Henrietta sought to marry Sigismund’s brother, but not only did her father condemn the union, but he had gone so far as to slander the Royal House. Haeseni honour dictated that that could not go unanswered. “ … I’m not sure how I can ever repay her, Kaus.” “Repay her?” the Palatine repeated as he hitched his chequered tartan over his shoulder. “We’re the ones who supported her, Sigismund.” Sig ran a hand through his windswept curls. “She … she knew this would happen, Kaus. She knew her father would never let her marry my brother. She knew it would end like this, but she chose for it to happen anyway. Kaustantin ... “ he shook his head. “She chose to abandon her family to marry my brother. Marus, of all people. She gave up her old life just to make him happy. How can I ever repay that?” Kaus’ smile had faded, leaving only the usual grim temperance on the Palatine’s face. “Besides, you’re doing her a favour, if you ask me. I’ve seen men send killers after their daughters because of marriage. The sooner she got away from that dysfunctional hellhole, the better.” “Maybe,” Sigismund muttered half-heartedly as they cleared the bridge. He knew he owed Henrietta a debt for this, and he knew it was one he could likely never repay. Not the first, and not the last. “If you want something to sulk over,” Kaus went on as the clop of the horseshoes of riders behind them echoed off the bridge, “there are other things to worry about. Like the Oreners, for one.” “Hmph. It will blow over,” Sigismund grumbled, though it was not a mess he looked forward to cleaning up. It had to be done, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. Honour demanded it. “I would not be so sure.” The Palatine turned in his saddle and stared down his spectacles at the row of Haeseni horsemen behind them. “You marched a small army into Orenian land to shake-down a Duke for an apology.” The echoing clop of horseshoes abruptly stopped as the last of the Haeseni riders crossed the river, and the singing squires made birds take startled flight from the nearing fir trees. “He led the valiant sally, and hacked back the viscous horde! In spite of their strength and size, they were no match for his sword!” “We were guests of Lady Henrietta,” Sig answered flatly. “Technically, we didn’t break any treaties.” “Technically,” Kaustantin snorted, and Sigismund was surprised to feel his lips twitch up. Up ahead, the border of the Grenzi crested to a gentle hilltop, beyond which fir imposing fir trees cloaked the land, and it was on that hill that two riders in Haeseni colours appeared atop their horses. One of them was a young August Barclay, riding a pony instead of a horse, and wearing a sallet helmet five times too big for his head. Beside him on a Reinmaren thoroughbred was his elder kin, Viktor -- their scout. “Road’s clear as far as Mordskov, your Majesty!” he bellowed down. “Still time to go back to Cathalon and kill that weasel, even!” Sigismund shook his head, and raised his hand to give a circular wave. At the signal, Viktor nodded, and slapped August’s shoulder. The two Barclays heeled their horses, and rode off over the hill to continue their watch. “He has a point,” Kaustantin said once the scouts vanished. “You did Henrietta a favour by taking her away -- you’d be saving her siblings the same trauma by putting an end to the fool.” Sigismund’s small smile vanished as quickly as it had come. When the Duke of Cathalon had refused to retract his slander against the Royal House, the only outcome honour allowed was a duel. Ser Flemius had stood as Haense’s champion, and handily defeated the Duke, but it had done nothing to stop the man’s tirade. Though the Duke had defended himself chivalrously, he had thrown that all away when he tried to attack Ser Flemius again after the duel. Consequently, Kaustantin was not the first to suggest the Duke should have died for his dishonour. “ … That’s not what we came here to do,” Sig answered as he scrubbed his temples. He felt a headache brewing from it all. “He fought the duel, and he lost. He paid for his slander honourably.” “Honourably?” Kaustanin sneered. “He tried to kill Ser Flemius afterwards.” “Yes, well … if he wants to debase himself so, let him. That’s justice enough. And besides …” he eyed the weeping Helvets woman over his shoulder, “that wouldn’t have helped any.” Would it not? A voice in the back of his mind questioned. Was it better to let him live to render those insults again? To do unto his other children what he did to Henrietta? He clenched his fists around his horse’s reins. Who am I to judge? He scolded himself. Henrietta and Henrietta alone was our concern. We handled our business -- how he runs, or does not run, his House is his right. That was what Sigismund kept telling himself, but it seemed to make no difference to his dour mood. “I don’t understand, Sigismund,” Kaustantin went on wistfully as the fir trees of the Grenzi surrounded them. Already, he could hear an owl hooting in the distance. “This kind of story would have once had you as excited as a girl at Juliyafest. It has everything - love, knights, maidens, honour - and we have managed to do some good.” Sigismund did not answer. He most certainly did not feel like they had done any good, but nor had they failed in their quest, either. They had confronted Henrietta’s father, given the woman her closure, but now Henrietta rode with them, crying all the while. The Duke of Cathalon had faced Ser Flemius in combat and lost for his insults, but Sigismund felt no better for it. In fact, he felt worse than he had when they had first ridden into Oren. Why, then? he asked himself. Back in Karosgrad, when Henrietta had first told him of her intent, it had all felt so ... easy, so right. The honour of the House of Bihar would be avenged, and Henrietta would be free to marry Sigismund's brother, her true love. Only mere hours ago, it had all seemed to simple. Yet now, as he led the party between the copses of fir trees where woodpeckers worked nosily, it felt anything but. It felt like Sigismund had stepped into a mire while blindfolded. "Maybe we're just too old for those stories, Kaus." The orange glow of the world had slowly succumbed to shadow as the last slivers of the setting sun disappeared behind the trees. Behind Sigismund, the squires broke into the final verse of the song. The flute climbed to a crescendo. "For the red walls had stood, though bloodied and splintered! The wind fled north, for its wrath had been wintered!" 45 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
zuziee 3205 Share Posted November 16, 2021 Daphne Helvets sat cooped up in the house like an exotic bird. She though briefly about her eldest sister Henrietta - or was it Fran? The memory seemed to be slipping her mind… A cloud of denial surrounded the youth. 6 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mady 2929 Share Posted November 16, 2021 Finishing making up a guest room in the Nikirala Prikaz, the Queen-Mother would place one hand on her hip, the other rubbing her forehead. She too was cast from her family upon her own betrothal. She knew exactly how her future daughter in law felt. “Vy will gain a new family, just as I have.” She murmured faintly into the empty room. Swiping her hand over the plush comforter of the newly made bed, Annika would look around, satisfied. “A room fit for a Prinzenas.” 11 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
louislxix 3054 Share Posted November 16, 2021 HRH Marus Aleksandr rubbed at his temple after missing the majority of these recently developing due to getting his beauty sleep in. Rain or shine albeit, the young Prince set off to comfort his betrothed before their wedding on the same Saint's day. En route to knock on the room to her guest room, he toothily smiled and held a rose between his teeth. "What's cookin' dobry lookin'?" @PerfectlyPeachy Ser Ailred heard news of the shake-down within the Orenian lands, hence he left the luxury of his family and unhung one of the multiple swords from his armoury. Whatever quandary the Koeng had, was now the the dutiful problem of the Ser. Passing through his keep and leaving tracks in the heavy snow towards Karosgrad, the elderly, retired Marshal uttered those glorious words, "Krusae Zwy Kongzem." 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
AndrewTech 2783 Share Posted November 16, 2021 Quietly, a woman whom had done much to raise the Lady Henrietta reminisced about the passing of this day's events. Or what she had heard of them, rather. She stirred a cup of strawberry tea as she thought about the ongoing quandary as she thought about the rumors she had heart of Cathalon. She recalled how Henrietta had initially begged the King not to get involved in this manner, how his own brother had even done so. Alas, honor was a fickle thing, a concept she understood all too well. But need the exchange truly be handled in this way? And for what, to humiliate the Duke of Cathalon? He was an imperfect man in an imperfect world. There were some Haeseni lords she could think of off the top of her head who had emulated him in the past. Having newly turned to religion, she would move into her chambers and simply kneel before her bed to pray."Lord God, do watch over Henrietta as she sleeps tonight. Watch over the Helvets lads and lasses, as they suffer through this most terrible time for their family. But most of all, please watch over the future, and let it be a promising one that we may behold beyond this turbulence." 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
VIROS 2708 Share Posted November 16, 2021 The Archchancellor had spent the better part of the day pacing the halls of Selm Palace, being cautiously mollified by a flock of advisors civilian and military alike. Each of them had told her the situation should not be escalated, and from all her rational mind told her, they were—unfortunately—right. But they had not been there. Even for those who had been there, they were not ultimately responsible for overseeing their meeting with the King of Haense, as he danced and sang; played the bagpipes over her retinue, his own mother even! Her blood boiled at the thought. Josephine Augusta realized then that she had crushed another cigarette, too preoccupied to roll it properly. She sighed. Was there something different she could have said? Should she have called the King to Providence instead, or left as soon as he made it clear a show was to be put on? Or was the outcome fixed from the moment she arrived—perhaps even from some earlier time, beyond her sight? At last, she went to bed (nearly forgetting her prayers). She dreamt fitfully of smirking Savoyards and the ominous closing of the gates of Karosgrad. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Fie 2519 Share Posted November 16, 2021 Laurentina wept bitterly for what had happened to her father. Why would those Haensemen come to their home? Why is her oldest sister and mother-figure Henrietta gone? Why is Pa so paranoid and why were iron bars in front of all the windows? The Helvets was too young to understand any of that - and perhaps she never would. For now, she sat in her room and drew things on expensive parchment she had found in her father's desk drawer. 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gandhi 2435 Share Posted November 16, 2021 Atop said loyal pony rode August Barclay, sallet barely fastened to his helm as his masked visage eyed the very distant walls of Providence with his cousin, Viktor. His gloved hand comfortably rested upon his shortened scabbard, fit for a boy his age. “Repaid, ja.” He spoke, offering a solemn shake of his head as his pony cracked on its heels to ride him back to the Cathalonian Manor. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
crazedpudding 2019 Share Posted November 16, 2021 Klara Elizaveta urged her pet screowl, Bruce, further with each toss of the small ball she'd brought outside, the animal eagerly bringing it back to his mistress each time. What happened at Cheval Hall, the toddler could not understand, for her own father had only ever treated her with love and kindness. "Maybe the world am niet as dobry as Karosgrad is..." 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
__Stal27 246 Share Posted November 17, 2021 (edited) Alexander Novikov would have been informed about the dealings in Orenian lands by a comrade, he would take a moment to consider, leaving himself in thought as he pondered. Whatever he would have thought about would quickly escape his mind, he would simply adjust his beret, his hand then lazily resting over the hilt of his blade as he turned to his comrade, gesturing for them to mount their horses as they passed through Haense lands, the young soldier, his eyes showing naught but determination would mutter the very words that had been engrained into his being, "Krusae Zwy Kongzem,". Edited November 17, 2021 by Armod 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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