Privy Council

[Sultan 3953]

(minimal Rp post is four lines I well not accept nor recognize anything that is lower than that, I know all of you are capable.)

(Only the persons listed in the rp can attend + Prince Richard + the Royal scribe)

From the point of view of The Kings Clark.

It was a common day at the Emperors Court, first came a knighting them came two nobles fighting over borders of their barony’s one claiming the other taking parts of his lands while the other claiming the same. As the emperor was settling a dispute that had accord between two barons, over the killing of livestock, I heard the sound of wood hit the floor, I raised my eyes and so a very old man walking with a cane two Knights behind him on his flanks, looking at his cloths excellently made to his chests rests the rising sun, I bowed my head to him, as I stood from my writing bench and whispered into the Emperors ear. With grace his Majesty rose and welcomed the old man. ‘’It is a pleasure to see you Duke Westfall’’, the duke ‘’I am honoured your imperial Majesty’’ The duke bowed only his head, as he has been given special right to do so by the emperor most men would kneel or do a full bow, but considering the Dukes age the King gave him special privilege.

The old man was Zibean Vivyean Duke of Westfall the High Chancellor of the Empire; he controlled most of the west, his lands extending from his borders with Tarus, until Somerset. The Duke spoke once more ‘’My Magnificent Royal Liege, I come to you today to ask of you, if you would do me honour of assembling the first Privy Council, I know my Liege that I myself can do such a thing but I would not dare to do so, as I would leave the honour to you my most honourable Sire, to convene the first Council of the Empire. The Emperor smiled ‘’Very well Duke Westfall it shall be done expect my letters to arrive within a months time.’’ No wonder how he received such honours and titles, a true noble and diplomat.

The day came, the King has ordered me to write these letters.

To the Privy Council summoning them to one of the Kings Palaces (Place well not be told on the forums to disallow people saying Oh I sneaked in..) As he fininshs the letter he seals them, and looks at the names on each on, Lord High Chancellor The Rt. Honourable Duke Zibean Vivyean , Lord High Steward The Rt. Honourable, Duke Nicholas Sliverblade, Lord High Treasurer The Rt. Honourable, Count Patrick Denims , Lord Grand Chamberlain, The Rt. Honourable, Duke Reynard Lycian, Lord Grand Marshal of the Bannermen The Rt. Honourable, Duke Ezekiel Tarus, Lord Marshal, The Rt. Honourable, Count Artorus Elendil, Lord Privy Seal, The Rt. Honourable, Count Alexander Stoiltous , Lord Chancellor of the Exchequer The Rt. Diligent Ser Der Weisse Reiter. A smile came over my face, as I completed what his Imperial Majesty his orders and sent the letters.

Two weeks from the day I have sent the letters have come and now it is the day of the Council meeting, I was overseeing the servants preparing the table his Majesty had ordered a new High Chair for himself, it was brought from Green Wall finely carved markings and pictures carved into its, side a majestic red coloured the seat itself. As the Servants finished placing the wine glass’s I brought up the oath of the Privy and held it in my hand, and the took upon the Holy Double Cross, awaiting for the Council to arrive and take the oath, then his majesty well appear when they are done, and the council should start. I glanced at the oath, it read.

‘’ You do swear by Almighty God to be a true and faithful Servant unto the Emperor, as one of Her Majesty's Privy Council. You will not know or understand of any manner of thing to be attempted, done, or spoken against his Imperial Majesty's Person, Honour, Crown, or Dignity Royal, but you will lett and withstand the same to the uttermost of your Power, and either cause it to be revealed to His Imperil Majesty Himself, or to such of His Privy Council as shall advertise His Majesty of the same. You will, in all things to be moved, treated, and debated in Council, faithfully and truly declare your Mind and Opinion, according to your Heart and Conscience; and will keep secret all Matters committed and revealed unto you, or that shall be treated of secretly in Council. And if any of the said Treaties or Counsels shall touch any of the Counsellors, you will not reveal it unto him, but will keep the same until such time as, by the Consent of His Majesty, or of the Council, Publication shall be made thereof. You will to your uttermost bear Faith and Allegiance unto the Imperial Majesty; and will assist and defend all Jurisdictions, Pre-eminences, and Authorities, given by His Imperial Majesty, against all Foreign Princes, Persons, Prelates, States, or Potentates. And generally in all things you will do as a faithful and true Servant ought to do to His Imperial Majesty. So help you God.’’

[Scipp3r 451]

* receives the note in his personal postal box in Arethor and reads with pleasure. He replies back to inform Godfrey of his ability to be present.

" I will be able to attend my liege. Please send another 'personal' letter on which one of your grand estates to meet at " ((PM me on forums))

-The Right and Honorable Patrick Denims

[Zebanamana 410]

((I do believe it is forum rp. I will post when I get home I'm currently out.))

[KidKrinkles 2044]

Eze'kiel sits in his palace, counting coins for the tithe and payments to the guards. He had been very busy as of late, but his business would soon end. One of his men walked in with a hand on his sword to keep it from saying.

"Speak."

The guard nodded his head and the kettle helm slid forward slightly. "Sir, there's a messenger for you. Expressly for you" and took a step back.

"Have him sent in, please." He said, his voice was a hollow and cold thing that sounded to resonate from the depths of some icy cave rather then a man's throat. He did not look up from his desk as he counted coins and scribbled down numbers.

The man entered with the message, and bowed formally, Eze'kiel put down his quill and turned to the messenger a few feet behind him. "Warm yourself by the hearth, have a drink of wine, I will be a minute reading". The messenger warmed himself by the hearth and sipped some wine as he read through the letter. Eze'kiel thought of a prior conversation, an interesting turn of events- maybe I'll be heard after all. Hell, maybe we -all- will. He turns and writes on a piece of paper with a quick hand,

Dear Godfrey,

I will be at your side and meetings and be ever faithful, loyal, and truthful as I can be.

Your Uncle,

Eze'kiel.

He handed the letter to the messenger with a small pouch of minas. "Cheers."

[Braehn Elendil An'Hiraeth 474]

*A courier arrives at Winterhall Castle with a letter. "For his Lordship." He says, handing over the note to a Guard on duty. Eventually Artorus is given the letter by his Steward, Derick. He nods then hands it back to Derick. "Write a reply, I will attend the council meeting. I will get ready for my trek to Arethor now.

[everblue2er101 906]

Kernith has been busy. The King had ordered him to prepare many a letter to be sent, many a notice to be created, and countless other little tasks. The young scribe had been kept quite busy. By the chosen day, the day when the various nobles arrived, the scribe was tired. But still, the job wasn't over. He had many assistants at the palace, all needing instruction and direction. With a flurry of speech he had set them to work. Some would stay among the nobles, recording their words in the Council room. Others would be sent off to write and prepare to send away what was happening, should the need arise. Others, few others, would sit with Kernith himself. The Royal Scribe expected to be seated where he always was at these functions, to the right of the King. From there he would be able to see and hear all, and be able to fully prepare reports for the King.

[Nico 121]

*On the dawn of Sabet, 14th of the Amber Cold, Year 45 a letter comes into the Dukedom of Furestock. One of Nicolas' Knights rides in, he slowly approaches the Palace of the Silverblades then up the seat of the duke. He spots Nicolas and requests to speak with him. The Knight says, "Your Grace, there is a letter for you, it has come in from the king himself. I deem it's fairly important." The knight then hands over the letter and backs away.*

*Duke Nicolas steps up and takes the letter from his Knight while he notices the royal seal. He then opens the letter reading its contents. He chuckles softly when he ponders upon the times in Aegis, with it's own privy council. He begins to call over one of his men to start writing a letter back to the king.*

To my Liege, King Godfrey of Horen,

It has come to my attention that there is another privy council that is being formed under your order and command. I, as your Lord High Steward have already sweared my loyalty and honor. There is no doubt in my mind that I shall sit in with these men and discuss the important of the nation. As long as it is being lead the king of Oren, the savior of the crown. I hereby give you me full pledged loyalty, honor and trust.

Love Live the Queen,

-Lord High Steward, Duke of Furestock, Nicolas Silverblade

*The letter is sent to the throne of the king himself for him to and only him to lay eyes on.*

[Zebanamana 410]

((Sorry I've been inactive and haven't posted on this yet, I have been really sick lately fever and strep throat. I'm hoping it subsides by tomorrow or monday, sorry for the delays.))

[Electric Wizard 78]

Alexander sits lazily at his oak desk. His velvet coat drapes over his chair. A bone pipe is resting on the desk, smoke rising from it slowly.

He grasps his iron goblet lightly and takes a generous swig. His courier opens the door, the iron latch clanging as he does. Alexander rests the goblet on the corner of his desk.

The courier bows courteously before speaking.

"M'lord I bring a letter from his imperial majesty."

Alexander motions for him to approach his desk. The courier hands him the letter. He opens the letter and begins to read it. A smile shows slowly on his face. He runs his fingers through his beard as he reads.

"Aah very good, I hath been waiting for this for quite some time", saith Alexander to himself.

He sets off for the location in the letter.

Once arriving, he nods to the others waiting and sits down quickly. He sits idly puffing on his pipe, smiling, thinking to himself.

[Sultan 3953]

(Come on guys arrive already..)

[Jorgen Reimer 74]

*Enters the the council room in his regular white knight armor, without giving much noice, he enters the room and takes his designated seat*

[Braehn Elendil An'Hiraeth 474]

*Lord Marshal Artorus Elendil of the Adunians walks into the council room, nodding respectfully to the two Knights guarding the door. He looks out over the room only to see two people, a Knight in White Armor, and his majesty, Emperor Godfrey. "Seems, I am early, or the others are just late." He thought to himself. Artorus takes a seat at the right side of the table.

[Zebanamana 410]

Rolling like a wave across the air the wind breathed softly through the white veiled fabric of an old man’s litter. Footmen in light chainmail flanked both sides of the small carriage that drew the palanquin across the countryside each bearing tall polearms crowned with a wicked axe head. Before the procession by many paces were two dozen mounted knights heavily armored and armed headed by Ser Kais Ishikawa who had at long last done away with his strange eastern garb.

The old man’s eyes fluttered open; he hardly ever rested. With age, thoughts become more complex and the need for sleep drastically slopes downward. Like a sapling rising from the earth, a proud castle with low walls and high towers stood out before them. The fields surrounding were rich with fruit and wheat promising a grand harvest as Oren had been reaping the last decade. A fine place for the Privy Council’s first meet.

From the crenellations of the gatehouse, a horn blew urging all of those on duty to attention, and was in turn met with a short horn blast from the ranks of the travelling forces. The bannerman at the head of the column raised a flag proudly adorned with an eclipse over shone by a great sunburst on a field of navy. A brief smile cracked the lips of the man who lay frail upon his pillows; a sputtered cough ended the smile with the swiftness of a falling axe and sent a spasm of pain through his swollen knees; the pride remained.

The gates opened as they entered and a young herald announced their arrival for all to hear, “All hail the arrival of His Grace; the Right Honorable Duke of Westfall and Warden of the Western Lands, Zibaen of House Vivyaen; the Lord High Chancellor of the Holy Oren Empire; and the accompanied lord; the Right Honorable Count of Stolistes and Hawcaster; Alexander of House Stolistes; the Lord Privy Seal!”

The litter jerked to a halt within the small courtyard of the keep and was lifted from of the carriage by half a dozen servants. I am a lucky man, Zibaen thought. So old that most would leave me to die were I of lower standings, yet influential enough to spur men into carrying me. It had felt shameful at points in the past when walking was still possible at long distances just impractical, but when time started ebbing at his hearing and his sight and joints he no longer felt quite as shamed. My mind hath not escaped me. I am a neither mewling babe nor a drooling elder to be carried around as a burden. Wisdom I doth possess, and wisdom I shall export until the day I fail to draw breath.

Lost in the corridors of thought his servants carried Zibaen into the halls of the inner keep. Count Alexander Stolistes had dismounted and was joined by Ser Kais in their trek to the meeting. Zibaen’s fading sight passed onto them taking them in. Both ***** in their customs; Kais a strange easterner not unlike Xerath who had served the Emerald Knights, and he oftentimes held unfamiliarity or lax disregard for Western beliefs and customs, yet he served well and loyally to all he swore oaths to. Then there was Stolistes the odd man who had lived independent in the wilds for many years, oft times odd phrases would pass from his lips not unlike other wilds men, but he was a staunch supporter of the hierarchy of rule and a loyal supporter of Oren.

“I tilled the soil once,” Zibaen’s voice was wispy as a morning fog settling, it was faint yet pronounced and enigmatic. It was not a new story he spoke of with the two honored men, yet one he wished to tell once more, lest any forget. “The title of Baron was what my House was left with after generations of poor marriages and financial disasters, a small barony over the ancestral seat of my house being the remnants of a house forged by a saint.” Zibaen shook his head carefully and held his breath momentarily. “My father knew we were poor, as did the rest of my family. Zarkus, my father, had abandoned dignity for survival. I sowed seeds, and I reaped crops, and when the time came he sent me to Al’Khazar. ‘Our house hath fallen to shame and poverty, we stand only upon ancient honor and without renewal we shall surely be eclipsed.’ He told me before I trekked south. I was to find honor for my house at such a young age, and mayhap I would have were I less naïve.

“While I was gone my sister Ivorwen fled to marry Aron Elendil the lord of the failing Adunia; a marriage my father forbade for fear of them being upstarts against Oren. My brother Darlos though my younger was raised to be lord in the event I was dishonored, or killed in the growing undead crisis. Zarkus had the right mindset. I did think the Oren Guard held prestige for men, and indeed it could have be’en under truly inspiring leadership. I served with them while others abandoned posts, I fought with them while others died, and yet I was ignored. A fool’s thought I had, that those leaders would ever care to promote me. Instead I seized opportunity and became the High Treasurer of Oren, a post I attempted to serve well at. I celebrated my post by returning home and marrying my late wife Aullia of a now extinct house, and sired my daughter Elina.” A frown creased his face. Aullia the sweet woman of his youth, of calm demeanor and calmer heart fallen to illness. “I did hath in mind to bring the Vivyaen line its much needed honor; Ivorwen had fallen to the undead leaving her son Artorus as her sole legacy, and my brother Darlos took the cloth in expectation of my success. Were Enor the Fool not King then it may hath happened that I would hath obtained honor peacefully. It took a full scale Civil War and the dissolution of Old Oren to bring my family to further prominence and to begin the slow process of returning power to the nobles.”

Zibaen casted a glance at Ser Kais, former Constable of Oren though briefly, and then an Ordinator of Salvus. It was a sensitive topic, yet even he understood Enor’s foolhardiness and owed nothing to him. “It hath taken many years for my family to become more distinguished, and now I stand as High Chancellor of the greatest Empire man hath known.”

At long last the functionality I desired from revolution.

“And a grand Empire it is your grace,” Stolistes echoed fingering at his beret carefully as they approached the heavy oak doors marking the Council Room.

Ser Kais gave a respectable bow as the litter was lowered, “I shall return when the meeting has concluded your grace . . . Stolistes.” And noisily he turned about face and marched back to whence they entered.

Servants grasped either side of him and pulled Zibaen from the comfortable bonds of his feather pillows and into the iron talons of pain. He let out a low groan and made several sharp remarks to the ruffians who he was certain were attempting to rip off his arms. The old man’s limbs screamed in protest and his feet steadily swelled denying his right to stand unaided. “My cane,” he called hoarsely at the servants who fumbled to hand him his ornate walking stick. The pressure on his legs slowly ssubsided and was made bearable when Stolistes took his arm and aided him carefully into the room. “My . . . Apologies for my tardiness my good Councilors mine age is oft a hamper for prompt arrivals.” He gasped slightly from the effort of walking. The Lord Chancellor of the Exchequer had already arrived, as had Artorus now made the Grand Marshall. That was well and good. Zibaen noted Kernith’s presence instead of Virosi’s for once and nodded pleased at this matter.

“Bring me the Privy Oath,” He stated with authority as he came to a halt before the high chair of Godfrey’s and the double cross behind it. A servant swiftly delivered onto him the oath upon a heavy piece of parchment bearing Kernith’s deft hand. “We are to say the oath upon the Holy Double Cross of the One True Faith before we can continue,” Zibaen stated to the other men gathered before gazing onto the holy symbol towering over Godfrey’s throne.

“I do swear by Almighty God to be a true and faithful servant unto the Emperor, as one of His Majesty’s Privy Council. I shall not know nor understand of any manner of thing to be attempted, done, or spoken a’gainst Imperial Majesty’s Person, Honor, Crown, or Dignity Royal, but I shall let and withstand the same to the uttermost of my power, and either cause it to be revealed to His Imperial Majesty Himself, or to such of his Privy Council as shall advertise His Imperial Majesty of the same,” Zibaen recited carefully and truthfully. After so many years as a servant of order, he dared not allow anything to disrupt the fragile balance they had clawed into existence. To do so would be the gravest of disservices to mankind and all the functionality it had gained.

My apologies old friend, Zibaen thought back to Reynard Lycian who he had stood beside in the darkest of darks. Mayhap it was best you never swore the oath, lest you be labeled the worst of oath-breakers, but not even our friendship could stand a’gainst the duty I hath for Oren and rational order.

“I shall, in all things to be moved, treated, and debated in Council, faithfully and truly declare my Mind and Opinion, according to my Heart and Conscious; and will keep secret all Matters committed and revealed unto me, or that shall be treated of secretly in Council. And if any of the said Treaties or Councils shall touch any of the Councilors, you will not reveal it unto him, but will keep the same until such a time as, by consent of His Majesty, or of the Council, Publication shall be made thereof.” It was a relief, Zibaen felt at this decree. He cast a glance towards Kernith’s swiftly moving hand making note of his oath. Old Oren and Renatus had been plagued by lords and prominent men who without council or approval would make a statement that would prompt unrest from the populace, but no more shall this happen lest said offender be scorned by the Council.

The old man breathed in deeply and looked down at the slowly dwindling oath and continued, “I shall to mine uttermost bear Faith and Allegiance onto the Imperial Majesty; and will assist and defend all Jurisdictions, Pre-eminences, and Authorities, given by His Imperial Majesty, a’gainst all Foreign Princes, Persons, Prelates, States, or Potentates. And generally in all things I shall do as a faithful and true servant ought to do to His Imperial Majesty. So help me God!”

Carefully Zibaen made his way around the table to his place beside Godfrey’s chair and listened as each man present swore their oaths, then one by one as the other men made their presence and said their words. We doth lack two Council positions now with Tarus’ resignation and Reynard’s dishonor. Disappointing, yet they would be filled once more by capable men.

The oaths were sworn and courtesies made, and when the last of the words were spoken did the Emperor at last appear. Zibaen was the last to stand and bow, but also the last to be seated once more out of respect, and worn limbs.

“In respect for my wishes, I would have you speak the first words of our grand Council sire.” Zibaen nodded his head graciously to Emperor Godfrey and allowed him to begin.

[Sultan 3953]

Looking towards Zibean from his high chair, his lips part and he ushers the words, Thank ye.

My Lords

Before I enter upon any other business, I think fit to say something to you. Since it has pleased Almighty God to place me in this station, and I am now Emperor to good and gracious subjects as well as so very kind and loyal nobility, I think it fit to declare to you that I will endeavour to follow good example, and most especially in that of great clemency and fairness to the people who deserve. I have been reported to be a man for mad power, but that is not the only story [which] has been made of me smirks. And I shall make it my endeavours to preserve this government both in Church and state as it is now by law established. I know the principles of the Church of Oren are of monarchy, and the members of it have showed themselves good and loyal subjects; therefore I shall always take care to defend and support it. I know too that the laws of Oren are ultimate to make the Emperor as great a monarch as we can wish. And as I shall never depart from the just rights and prerogative of the Crown, so I shall never invade any man’s property unjustly. I have often heretofore ventured my life in defence of this nation, and I shall still go as far as any man in preserving it in all its just laws and traditions.

He leans back into his chair, as he takes his horn of wine, and brings it to his lip, and takes a small sip before he motions for Virois, Hand the lords the first order.

[VIROS 2915]

((What order, exactly? We have a lot of documents pending.))