(1866-09-04) To Manipulate A Viscount
To Manipulate A Viscount
Summary: After spending a week of hunting, Henric and Thomas return to Roseguard, picking up a chat they had started earlier that week. When Thomas requests that Henric attend court with him, the Viscount refuses to go, and grouses like a lion with a thorn in its paw. It takes his wife, Elaine Cassomir, to show Thomas how it's done. A simple implication of cowardice lands the party with a decision to travel to Firen.
Date: 1866-09-04
Related: Honest Words of the Future
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Elaine  Henric  Thomas  

Galenthia - Ironhold - Roseguard Castle - Master Suite

Resting at the end of the hallway that comprises the Cassomir family's living quarters, the Master Suite of Roseguard Castle are actually comprised of a few different rooms. The first is something of a parlor, with a few tables and comfortable chairs. With a large hearth present it's clearly designed for entertaining visitors in a more private (or secure) setting than the Great Hall. The second room is an office space, with a large wooden desk and plenty of shelves present, most of which are laden with scrolls and missives, though everything does seem to be reasonably well-organized and kept as neat as possible even if there's an unavoidable bit of clutter. Aside from the desk, a couple of chairs are also present here for more business-oriented meetings.

Beyond the office lies the bedchamber, with an adjoining privy as well as a smaller room with space for both a squire and a servant to remain nearby at seemingly all times, though for the moment it seems that particular room is unoccupied and has been for some time. The decoration throughout the rooms is geared towards the colors and emblems of the Cassomir family, plus a couple of portraits…clearly smoke damaged…hanging in the office space, whom many might recognize as the late Baron Aric and Baroness Mathilda Cassomir. All the furnishings are quite new and of exceptionally high quality, much in keeping with the very "modern" feel of the castle as a whole.

1866-09-04

Tonight is the first night back from a week's worth of hunting and fishing in the hinterlands of County Ironhold. This was a new experience for Thomas; riding from forest to plain, river to lake, soaking in terrain he'd scarcely seen before and enjoying the fruits of the earth. His inclinations showed as did his origins in the mountain hinterlands, for although he proved himself to be an able hunter of beasts and fisher of the creatures of the water, the Eastern Marcher Baron's method of doing so was centred more on the most effective method, rather than the most sporting method. Still, while sometimes crude, his ability to throw a javelin at a moving buck was rather impressive, as was his knowledge of traps and flies.

Settled, bathed, fed and warm, the Baron of Repton March sits in Viscount Henric's study. He wears the contented look of someone enjoying creature comforts and diversions once again, as well as a goodly amount of wine. Now, however, is after dinner and wine wouldn't do. Instead, he's got a glass of the grape brandy in hand, a bottle of which is sitting next to him on a wooden side table and a dozen bottles of which he brought for the Viscount, made from distilled Circester grapes.

Effective or sporting, Henric would oft sit the side lines allowing the Baron to try his hand at any beast that ambled toward them; the huntsmen doing a grim task of baiting or herding dependant on the species. Though such had gotten drab after the first day and Henric had been insistant on tracking their own game if they were to call it true sport. The rare times he did participate in the slaughter of an animal, it was with a grimness of a man at battle. He was more relaxed with fishing, not that he was very good at it, often more in a tangle than not with his line. At least there he could laugh at himself, once or twice. Simple pursuits were often forgotten in life when war always muddied the waters.

Back at the castle Roseguard, their return had been greeted by his wife Elain and the steward, Alexander. But like Thomas, he was allowed his chance to get cleaned after the weeks long venture, though shorter, considering the obligations that had been waiting him. Dinner was the routine and at the end of it, he had never been as relieved to escape to the confines of his suite. At least there he could find the solace required to sit down with a friend and chat over brandy. "I might be hurried into another hunting trip after today," he mulls over the brandy, a quick smirk on his face, that fades with the next sentiment, "Though I highly doubt I could convince you on longer, as much as I'd like to cave into my selfish whims, you're on a mission with that Charing woman."

"Ah, and I've responsibilities at home, as well. The Marches are quiet for now, but there is much rebuilding to engage in. My brother, Sir Henry, is an able administrator and commander… still, it would be good for me to do my lordly duty." Admins Thomas, taking a good, measured sip of his brandy. Literally, his - though he did not distill it himself, he knows the family that does and has for his whole life, and the grape used to make the product comes from his own vines. "As for Shirlyn, I believe she'd like to be of more use than simply sitting up in her family's keep would lend itself to. Firen, then, it is. Will you be coming with?"

"When you return, send my esteemed greetings to our mutual friend Sir Wulfred, lord now, wasn't it?" Henric swishes the brandy as he looks down into the glass, thoughtful in a pause before he sips, while in that sentiment alone it expressed how he did miss the jovial fellow. The appreciation of the brandy is held at length, by observation and numerous samplings, until he can say with certainty, "A good distilled brandy is hard to find. I admit the apple brandy Gauvain gifted me did not last long. Is there a chance to have you off load some of this here at some point? In return I can send you the mead made out of Rivergate, should the Barony come around now that my Uncle is at the helm." The off hand conversation interrupted with another sip, side glancing at Thomas, "Firen? For this assembly you spoke of?" Much has been weighed, though his answer is coming, "No friend, I cannot acquaint myself -her- for an idea that carries with it too many pitfalls, to us and to the future of Galenthia. The day I return to Fir-" a quick stop, one made with a shrug and a deeper drink.

"Yes, Lord Wulfred de Ufford. He's my vassal now, you know." Thomas's lips part and he laughs at the absurdity of the notion. "The man's like our jolly old uncle! I absolutely will, of course. His son, Sir Godrey, is Prefect of my regiment's second battalion." Considering the idea of sending his cargo up the Copper River, he nods. "The benefit of alcohol is that it sends well and can tolerate most conditions. Our wine is no great vintage and normall for local consumption in the County, but the brandy would do well for a bit of exposition, perhaps, and for you, my friend? Of course. Let me know how many cases you'll need and I'll put my chamberlain in touch with Master Alexander."

Thomas raises his hand, as if he knows what Henric is going to say. "You were right, you know. It wouldn't work, not right now. Now is not the time for that. But for other concerns, the idea of a Royal service is worth pursuing, I think. And though you might have problems with the Queen, you are one of her most trusted commanders and lords. She could not do what she does without the Cassomir anchoring her western borders."

"There is something universally wrong about that-" Henric croons with the mirth of the old fat bastards way with nobility, "-and utterly perfect at the same time. I don't suppose he likes the notion of being called Lord, as much as I like being called Viscount." He coddles the brandy, "The man needed retirement and I'm happy for him to raise his son's future to what it is now. He deserves nothing less." The way he speaks of Wulfred was more akin to a father than an uncle, a touch more sentiment than Thomas. The latter conversation of ale was simply a filler and as such is aligned with a nod of his head for the acknowledgement and general acceptance of the idea.

To the more appropriate need of Firen and approaching the Queen, Henric straightens in his chair. Most would likely know that Henric hadn't attended Royal Court since his … 'discharge' from the Royal Lancers. Not once had he set foot in the grand city and after his siblings death to which alleviated him, he had neither approached her court to make sure his oaths to the Queen nor did she invoke him to do so. There had been a silence between them, even had she cried on his shoulder a whole night through over the death of his brother. Point being, his general absence from her Royal Court was noticed. The apathy he showed now didn't help circumvent the issues. "Let's get this straight…" he leans forward, "She doesn't trust me. She made that abundantly clear." He shakes his head, "I may be the wrong party to invite to Firen. Viscount Letholdus might better stand for this Royal Service, he's more… traditional that way. You do have to be careful of the Sokar's however, when you suggest about this Royal Service, since they are Lawkeepers by nature and wouldn't react well to having someone take jurisdiction away from their Order."

"The lawkeepers, as far as I understand, serve the Sokar lands and do so ably. But they do not serve the rest of the Kingdom." Thomas raises his finger to his lips, tapping it in place as his watery blue eyes shift off, deep in thought. "But that's actually a very good idea. Include the Lawkeepers in the idea of a royal service and make it something Kingdom wide. If that could get the Sokars to agree to the idea, then I'd think it's a smart move." He smiles at Henric, his eyes refocusing on the Viscount.

"You underestimate yourself. That you were dimissed is no secret, but events have superceded that, my friend. You earned more honour and did more good fighting with Duke Gauvain than you ever could as a Lancer, and you recently absolutely crushed a rather frightening Parthian host that had been hiding in HER Fallow Lands and could have just as easily turned south to Firen, had you been defeated. Then where would she be? To think that she does not know this and appreciate the service you have and continue to offer as her Viscount, her direct vassal and her western shield… well, it allows me to demonstrate how it looks like from the outside!" The Baron laughs.

The conversation in the study is about to be disturbed, when a knock to the door announced Elaine barely before she slips into the room; attired in a dark green dress - she seems to favor darker colours still, perhaps in reference to those lost not too recently - the dress sporting a high waist, her blonde hair done in a simple braid that hugs her neck and falls down over her front. Her complexion rosy, and the smile she has for the two men engaged with brandy and important talks quite amiable. "Baron Thomas. Henric. I wondered if I could join you," she offers, shooting her husband a glance as she - without waiting for his reaction - takes a seat that is still vacant. Brows lifting as she obviously has overheard some of Thomas's words. "You are speaking about Queen Melisande?" she says, more in a statement than an actual question.

"No? I thought they acted in the Queen's behalf," but what does he know, he flunked out of his studies more often than not, "Stephan Sokar might be the pillar of that knowledge tree - he was the Sokar brother trying to court my sister…" A thought that is distracting and as such, he loses his train of thought. Glad is he that Thomas makes the remark about including them to regain his own sense of focus, "Probably the only move with that old Dragon at the helm. Blessed is she with long life."

The Baron's tirade upon the Queen's support has Henric looking rather sullen and disgruntled, for while his friend was trying to reinforce the good in which his actions created and what appreciation the woman would have to show, there was that most obvious hurt and anger within - a grudge that comes with being scorned, mocked, and ignored. The laughter has the ability to absolutely make Henric scowl even deeper into his cups - let alone the intrusion of his wife and her perky bubbly self. He tries to flash a smile at her but it comes out a snarly looking thing, "We were. I was about to say that my friend was a poor excuse for a Queen and despite his avid demonstration, the Queen herself fails to say any such thing… which-" his eyes turn to Thomas, "-make your view while valid, disputable."

Thomas is immediately out of his seat at the knock, sweeping one hand behind his back and the other across the front of his plain, off white tunic, a classic courtier pose. His smile remains as he tracks Elaine entering the room, dipping his head respectfully. "Your Excellency, I'd be delighted to have your company. Help yourself to some of the grape brandy if it pleases. Yes, we were indeed." Henric's own words are not interrupted, but instead added to.

"Stephen Sokar, then, must be a charlatan, or was lying for his own purposes. A rustic Marcher lord I might be, but I know the political orientation of the realm quite well. As for Isabel - aye, she is, and we must come to accept it. She'll be the next Archduchess, undoubtedly, and she would do well as such. My liege is still too divisive a figure, despite the sorrow the East has suffered, and as for the Arkanin…" Unlike his previous laugh, which was a genuine attempt to be mirthful, this one is simply full of scorn. "That fool is barely worth the cloth that wraps him. He should be a field commander and nothing more, lest our Kingdom's enemies think that that is what a Galenthian Duke is made from." He dips his head again at Elaine. "My apologies, Excellency, if my manner has offended."

"You know my opinion on this," Elaine intones towards Henric, noting the scowl and the attempt at a smile towards her, her tone matter-of-factly, she at least keeping her amiable countenance. "A visit to Firen, to speak with her - if only to find out what her views are on the current situation, whether she is likewise aware of the details - and to assure her of our unwavering support, would be a wise and necessary move." Speaking up amongst the grown-ups, and men, at that! Elaine a young woman of eighteen, whose fate has led her to hold the position of Viscountess. It seems, some at least are able to adapt to new constellations. She accepts the Chandus Baron's greeting with an incline of her head, and after listening to his political tirade which is aimed at her husband, she will nod again, a fine smile curling her lips. "No offense taken."

Henric cannot help but snort divisively at Thomas when his friend climbs to his feet in a snap and claims a poise of nobility that currently the Viscount lacks - the snort being as much to chide his friend as it is born out of envy. In his current mood, a mood that the talk of the Queen often gets Henric in, it was better for all that he remain seated and drinking during the interlude of greeting.

Thomas tirade as it was, has Henric listening at least, captivated by the other's passion for the subject and learning more about the political climes than through other sources. "Isabel would be who I would cast my stones toward. She has survived this long, she could aid in helping to set this Kingdom right," and as Archduchess, a little more sway with the Queen was had, undoubtedly. Yet, topics swing when Elaine jumps on board again with her insistance that they go to Firen. He says through clenched teeth, "And you know -my- opinion on the matter, Elaine." Stubborn.

Thomas seats himself again, taking a good gulp of the drink. He enjoys the burning sensation privately before nodding at the Viscountess. "Beyond restating your loyalty, which will undoubtedly be much appreciated… you will have a chance to air any grievances. Not at court, of course, but in private. I would be truly and utterly shocked if she would not grant you such an audience. Again, your person and your house have rendered innumerable and priceless service. I know your opinion, Henric, and I sympathise with it but… would you not come to Firen in order to at least test the water?"

"How can you be so sure of how the Queen feels towards you, after all that has passed, since the Peace Ball? Even if she did disapprove of you, which I cannot believe, you are her vassal, and you owe each other the respect that comes with such a constellation. She is certainly not oblivious on your merits. She can't be. So instead of hiding in your shell that is Roseguard, you should really go. If not for your sake, then for the sake of Ironhold.", Elaine opines, her back straight, her head held with confidence. Her grey-blue eyes flicker with sentiment as she regards her husband, noting his stubbornness, but not accepting it, obviously. "By the One, if you shy away from the task, I could go in your stead." Now, if that isn't a statement. Her gaze shifts to Thomas, and she adds: "Apologies for my tone, Baron, but you are almost part of the family."

Henric is losing patience quickly with the conversation, as one of his most respected friends is relentless upon the matter in subsequent addition to his wife calling him a coward for not going! Between the two, with Elaine being more blunt and hitting him where it hurts, he eventually breathes out, "The One damn you both." The rest of his brandy goes down the hatch, letting it burn the whole way down, setting the glass down heavily to the table aside him. He glares across at his wife, "You're coming with me. We can tour to House Hogan after we go to Firen…" He mutters something under his breath before he grunts, "You two should be proud of yourselves. You'll see what /cold/ reception I'll receive and how bloody eager I am to get on my knees for her again…" His tongue was a little loser now, but he was angry and being brow beaten into seeing Melisande was not helpful to that. "Thomas," he changes the subject, "Would you please fill my wife in on your plans regarding this… service."

After so long being friends with Henric, Thomas has grown a thick skin when it comes to his curses and occasional insults that get thrown around. He takes Henric's rant impassively, other than a brief smile which he flashes to Elaine and a, "Thank you, my lady, and I feel the same way."

Once Henric is done speaking, the Baron presses his hands together. "Well, my initial idea was for some kind of assembly that would be composed of the Lords of the realm in order to advise Her Majesty. Your husband convinced me that it was perhaps not the time for that, and after our hunt I think he was right. However, I had also though of some kind of official royal service."

"Her Majesty's household currently does much of the work of governing, but it is not big enough to be efficient or to exert a unity of purpose across the realm. Opening royal service up further and creating some kind of professional body assigned to act in person of the Crown on appointed matters would give a potent force to her as well as channel the energies of the realm's non inheriting nobility into useful purposes, that is, the building of our state's goals. I've read much on the Empire and they used to have something similar to this. It served well throughout the West but was lost in the last few hundred years of the Empire here and in the chaos of the Forging Wars." Thomas motions over to the bottle. "Brandy, my lady?"

Her husband cursing the both of them does not seem to bother Elaine at all, no, in fact it has her straighten even further in her seat, while a small victorious smile curls her lips. A brow lifts to his request. "Of course, I will accompany you, dear husband.", she assures. "And I certainly do expect anything but a cold reception. Even so…" And here she pauses, giving Henric a long glance. "We are Her subjects, and owe Her our allegiance. There is nothing wrong with expressing that, by getting on one's knees." To Thomas she looks with attentive curiosity, when she is finally addressed, as if she did matter. "This sounds like an intriguing proposition, Queen Melisande should consider," she states. The Baron's polite courtesy of offering her brandy is declined with a downwards flit of her eyes. "Thank you, Baron, but… I am not feeling too well. A slight headache. I doubt brandy would really help." The headache card, played with effortless ease; still, the Viscountess looks anything but indisposed, with her rosy cheeks and the calculating gaze she shoots her husband.

Henric seems to be aware that they are both immune to his charming nature, which displeases him all the more, rather, it makes him abate while he refills his own glass with brandy, taking the portion that Elaine dismissed. "And what a spectacle that will be-" his eyes widen sardonically, "-the Black Lancer lowering to his knee." He said his own by name, with the acrid flavouring too, "I'm sure court will be a 'rousing' experience…" For everyone else. He rises from his chair, "You'll have to excuse me, if there was nothing else, I need some fresh air." He did catch all those long glances from Elaine, especially the last, nodding to her choice of words. "

The Baron appears to agree with all that Elaine says. "Quite right, my lady, and whatever one might think of her person, it is the Crown that we all serve and the Crown will endure no matter what. I wouldn't care what those powdered, soft fools think of seeing the so-called Black Lancer drop to a knee, Henric. They're envious of your service, they're envious of your title, and they're envious of your wife; in short, my friend, if they have antipathy towards you, it is due to the fact that you have turned situations which would have broken them into success. You've defeated your foes and are well on track to things running smoothly again…" Thomas trails off for a moment, a frown creasing his features. "If only the Arkanins don't go to war."

A slight frown appears on Elaine's face, that faint line between her brows indicating she does not approve of Henric's sardonic remark. "You are who you want to be.", she contradicts. "And what face you choose to display before the Queen. All of the past left aside, she needs the support of her vassals." Leaving it that for a moment, she shakes her head ever-so-slightly. Her husband might get to hear more on the matter of sulking Black Lancers preferring to hide in their dark holes instead of stepping out and taking responsibility in a constructive manner, sometime later, in the absence of others. His impending departure is noted with a raised brow. "Fresh air, to cool your heated temper. Aye, I suppose that will do you good.", the comment offered with a faint smile. She is the third to rise, shortly after Thomas Chandus does. "I fear it is…," Elaine says towards the Baron. "If you are referring to the time to retire." Her grey-blue eyes shift to linger on Henric. "After taking a bit of air." Her attention shifts back to their guest. "I hope you are not taking offense? The past weeks and months have been very taxing."

The expression that Henric flashes Elaine at her contradiction is one of being haunnted, as if she had spoken some words of the past that strike him swifter than any blade. Thomas' words on the very same matter have him pressing for that need for fresh air, his hand going to his neck where he still hides the old scars behind high collars and scarves. "They would not be envious of me if they knew me-" he looks between the two, then to Thomas over the Arkanin's, "As foolish as that might be… I will not forget Lady Jaelynn's service." A hint that he'd support the Arkanin's, just not exactly how. Still, the reminder of his temper and that need for air have him adding, "We'll be ready for a journey to Firen in short." A beat, "Good night, Baron Chandus…"

Thomas's tone towards Elaine becomes sympathetic. "They have for all of us indeed, my lady, and of course I am not taking offense. Candour is refreshing and needed, for I suspect in Firen there will be less of it to go around than we might wish. Goodnight Viscountess, Viscount." Bowing from the neck, he takes his leave to the guest chambers.

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