Blanchables

The halls of the Augustine remained coated in an eerie quiet against the padded footsteps of various servants making their way to and from the receding chambers of its occupancy. Deep within its recesses, however, somber tunes drifted endlessly across its corridors, fading into the night with a brevity as short as the evening to day. Charles Augustus played a tune familiar to some, but not to others, as the man kept alone within his privacy, the only friend to keep his company a cold glass of whiskey laid atop the piano with which the man played. The song would be one taught to him on a simple Eve like every other, played by a stalwart and quiet Wick. He would speak no words, but allow the dulcet melody to carry itself around the Augustine, his eyes closed in a huff as his body swayed to the music, engulfed not only in his current moment, but one of a fondness that he had lived many years prior. 

Charles Augustus reads aloud the missive as his wife cradles the young child against her. Thinking a moment, he'd tap his chin with a pondering expression spreading across his countenance. "It matters not right or wrong. I have been called to war for GOD and Empire, and must heed said call. Only history may tell if such a choice was wise or foolhardy." 

Charles Augustus would place his pen to his lips, pondering a moment. "A man accused has the right to face his accusers in a court of law, if such accusations are false, then there should be no problem confronting such." The man would nod affirmatively at such righteousness, penning his name against the parchment. "Then perhaps this incessant squabbling might cease and I can continue about my day..."

Name: Reese Midlemen

Age: 23

Race: Heartlander
Prior Relevant Experience: Solo adventuring, theoretical degree in physics

"By GOD, he's done it." Charles Augustus would remark as he watched the contraption take flight high above Augustine. "The boy's done it!"

"Ah, there goes my fiancé. Always the industrious one!" Charles Augustus would remark upon reading the section.

RP Name: Charles Augustus d'Arkent
MC Name: Blanchables
Voted: Yes

As the invitation reached the young Baron's doorstep, he'd look to it with a warm smile, but what soon followed was a deep frown. "It appears I learned that rather complex name for nothing now..." Nonetheless, he'd place the missive within his breast pocket, tapping it joyfully. 

The evening would fall to a silent whisper as the hurried footsteps of palace staff receded into the nighttime, leaving but scattered remarks and faint trails of distant conversation. Charles Augustus would, however, be confined within his office, door locked as he reviewed each task, seemingly more monotonous than the last. His grey eyes would flicker over a missive, however, and his expression would lighten to a joyous twinkle. Standing from his seat, he'd whisk himself away from his drudgery to find his hands perched upon a small lockbox, a key of which resided in his left breast pocket, a slight pulse protruding the otherwise stillness of the fabric as his heart beat close to it. With key in hand, he'd unlock the contents of the box, his eyes sweeping over the treasured cargo of his past. With a satisfied nod of  affirmation, he'd lift the box from its place, and meander back to his desk, carefully setting it in front of him. With a careful attentiveness, he'd lift the contents within the confides of the box and place each one on the wooden surface of his workstation. A tinfoil ring, a small plushie, a detective's glass, and a small painting of both the young Lady and Charles himself, though in greater youth than their current age, left themselves to rest in front of the young Baron. A smile would befall his features as he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as his digits interlaced between one another to find perch on his chest. 

"Not a day has gone by where I do not fondly remember the days of our youth, Anna, but not a second goes by where I do not eagerly await our future."

The Governor of Augustine would breathe a slight sigh, though his pleasant smile would remain spread thin. 

Charles Augustus d'Arkent resides within his office, working diligently. His finest clothes would stay held by a hook in the corner, ready for his ball!

IGN: Blanchables

DISCORD: Blancharizard#0249

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NAME: Charles Augustus d'Arkent

AGE: 19

CHOSEN BACHELOR'S DEGREE: Politics, Society and Law

CHOSEN MAJOR/S: Imperial Politics

ADDRESS OF RESIDENCE: Augustine

DO YOU REQUIRE A DORMITORY TO LIVE ON CAMPUS?: No

DO YOU REQUIRE A SCHOLARSHIP? (Each case for subsidised tuition will be looked at independently): No

Charles Augustus d'Arkent would reach the door of his office, giving himself a slight nod as he walked inside. He'd take a deep breath at first, looking about as he hesitated a moment. Seating himself behind the desk, he'd smile, adjusting his posture. "Time to work."

Charles Augustus d'Arkent would carefully examine the missive, breathing a sigh of relief, as the woman named Phillipa was not his sister, and the Crown would never make such a simple mistake.

Charles Augustus signs up for the exchange.

FORMAT FOR GIFT EXCHANGE:

IRP NAME: Charles Augustus d'Arkent

DISCORD: Blancharizard#0249

IRP AGE: 18

LIST OF THREE GIFT IDEAS: Weapons, any neat RP items, clothes

Charles Augustus sat alone within his quarters, coat and undershirt still coated in blood with seemingly no spot of purity. His sister's blood, the last of which he had to remember of her. His eyes flashed their greyish tint as he cradled his head within his hands, not fully absorbing the bustle and noise of the palace life below him. A solitary blink would be his only action as he continued to sit there, gently rocking back and forth within his own chamber. "But was it me, Sister? Was I the cause of your villainy? Was I what inspired such hatred and malice within your veins? Was I what caused your blood to boil? The very same blood that coats my very form? Were you...my fault?" Charles would ask such questions into the void, but would receive no respite, instead, an uneasy silence wavering over him. His final questions, unanswered, his resolve, shaken, and his sister...Gone.

what dog am i 

Charles Augustus d'Arkent would admire the lovely drawings of birds, but would also enjoy the informative remarks about each one!

Charles Augustus d’Arkent would happily reply to the missive, quickly forwarding a reservation for his attendance. The Carrington Estate would bustle with noise as the young Baron rushed towards his room, quickly pulling back the doors to his closet. Silently casting his gaze across the wardrobe, he’d reach down towards a hidden level, pulling back a false bottom. He’d grin mischievously at the contents, laying them across his bed, taking account of his inventory. “Finally...At long last. A chance to use this.” The youth would clap happily, putting on a plaid deerstalker hat, along with a ragged coat, and finally, place a pipe within his mouth. He’d nibble on the mouthpiece, smiling to himself. 

”Detective Charlie, on the case.”

Charles Augustus d’Arkent would hurriedly pen a response, a glimmer of glee in his expression.

A Boy and his Dreams

Tales of a Young Heir

Charles Augustus on a hunt with his noble dog

Through bitter rivalries and heated court cases, simple truths began to elevate themselves to the young d’Arkent, truths that carried the heaviest of weights to such a budding spirit. These simple truths remained shackled to the boy’s ankles, at first weighing him down like an anchor, the heaviest of burdens that such a child was not ready to face. But as the reality of his situation began to offset the panic and distress the boy faced, it was no longer fear this child felt coursing through his form, but rather, the teeming enthusiasm of newfound responsibility. Where once was the overwhelming pressure of grief, replaced instead with the liberation of duty. The simple truths, fast unshackling themselves from the boy’s legs, transformed into something more. Something to raise him above his station. A device to maneuver him forward and upward, beyond what was previously expected of him to accomplish. His truths became his dreams, dreams for the betterment of himself and his family. And it was these dreams that provoked him to become more than he was, to be stronger than expected.

Being forced into a situation of accelerated growth proves to be a blessing and a curse for such a young mind. It molds the senses, allows a spurt of maturity to blossom the youthful heart to fruition. It ceases selfish desires, and replaces them with a yearning for improvement, both of self and community. Young as he may be, Charles began to dream of something bigger than himself. As he watched his siblings play in the garden of the estate, he would picture their future. A future as the dreams of a better Helena. With each traumatic obstacle that began to obstruct the young heir’s path, an in-suppressible energy to be better than his plight would take form, and the dreams of a young child would see to it that nothing more stands in his way.
 

Charles Augustus would scamper about the estate grounds, sheep plush in one hand and stick in the other, as he investigated the strange happenings around the manor. The staff would speak in hushed whispers, which would cease when Charles’s presence would appear to them, replaced instead with a newfound guise of imitation smiles, their eyes reflecting a newfound sadness at the boy’s loss of parents. Charles would, at this time, not be aware of his newfound situation, and would return their pitiful smiles with a charming one of his own, though one could argue his was just as counterfeit as their’s. Behind the stone columns of the garden, Charles would scowl at the staff, listening in close to their hushed tones and words of gossip. ”...And she just left! Nobody’s seen her! And now their Father isn’t permitted to raise the children! And poor Charles...He has no idea.”  But the impoverished fools have just given him the idea, unbeknownst to them. Charles’s mouth would hang slightly agape at this news, his reaction stunned and shocked. His plush would fall from his loose grip, becoming damp on the wet grass as he mulled over this state of affairs. His eyes would gloss cold over a newfound realization, and a steely determination would befall him. He’d remove a small notebook from his pouch, examining the various words sloppily written in his own text.

 Number One: Thou art in charge when Mother is away.

Charles knew what must be done. He quickly ran outside the estate and shifted the soil with his hands, creating a hastily made hole in the ground.  He’d give one final look at his plush, giving it a tight embrace before dropping it inside, scooping handfuls of soil on top of the hole. The seven year old knew the time for childish things had come to an end. It was time to grow up.

Charles Augustus straightens his posture, smoothing his hair back with a single hand as he confidently gleams outwards towards his Mother. “Of course Mama, my best behavior!”  When the coast is clear and his Mother assuredly looked away from him, he’d cast his gaze mischievously towards his siblings, a snicker escaping his lips before regaining his composure.

Edward plans to attend!

The Milner stands ominously in the distance, dreams of liberation for the Sutican citizens reserving all his thought.

The Milner valet gets John’s fancy clothes ready for him.