| High Court of Aequor |
| Summary: | The High Court of Aequor is called to choose the new Duke of Evalle. |
| Date: | 1/18/1875 |
| Related: | Vengence related scenes |
| NPCs: | Many tittering young ladies. |
| Players: |
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| Avalorn Castle, Great Hall |
| Banners, Nobles, and one Execution Device |
| 1/18/1875 |
Drifting into court by herself rather than surrounded by her fellow ladies Aleira appears serene and thoughtful as she moves to take her place in the quickly crowding room.
Having choosen to wear d'Augustino colors she is dressed in a tight-waisted and square necked gown of rich purple silk. The gown's collar is adorned with a silver brooch in the shape of a lotus blossom and her hair is pinned halfway up with twin hair combs of silver and amethyst. Her lightly heeled shoes match her dress and are hidden under her long heavy skirts and she carries a fan of polished pale wood and purple painted silk with silver vine patterns on it.
She takes up a position near the back obviously not expecting to be important enough to be actually called on in this session. Still she is here to observe all the same and she does so with a calm experession her gaze slowly drifting over those present as her fan rests at her side.
It had been a while since Augustin had properly set foot upon land, his frigate HMS The Redoubt had spent the better part of weeks scouting and hunting in open waters and the deep rivers of Aequor. But as with all summons from the King and Queen, there was no denying such a command, and so the old and salt-weathered lord watched and waited having arrived but a few moments past. Though not armed nor armoured, his attire was reminiscent of his usual fare of tunic, breeches, boots and an old oilskin longcoat, devoid of any true colour barring the blue sash about his waist. His stern and unyielding features set into a grim rictus of mild annoyance, annoyance at people, the land, any perceivable denial of service to King and Country. Brows heavy and furrowed, the ancient Hero of Alasce waits as he does for death, with a certain impatience and rankled energy.
Jordan has made the trip to court dressed in his finest doublets and trousers and whatnot looking very dashing in the black clothes with the silver trim and emrboidery. He also takes up a position towards the back of the great hall simply being the heir to a barony and not an important member of the court he's here because it's an important event and he was curious on how this would end up going.
Enterng the Great Hall wearing a gown made with black and silver and fit for the propper court, with an admiral's coat over that, Mercedes Aria Juli d'Juliano is flanked by a few of her female noble knights, and THEN by her own vassals and a few of their knights. The whole Arcadian Delegation has show up.
Though she isn't armed, since she was never knighted, she does carry her silk fan in one hand, left half open, drawing attention up her dress and coat to show off the absolute masterpeice of her hair, done up and then left to fall down like a fountain of blond curls, a diadem holding part of the structured hair in place, as well as painted nails and silver and gold jeweld accents.
Dressed in a black brocade slashed doublet suitable for the occasion, Ludovic has taken up a spot appropriate to his rank and is now simply waiting, with both hands resting lightly on the blunt head of his leather-sheathed czekan, whilst a woman dressed primarily in black talks at him.
Standing in the shadow of a gilt pillar and seeming to be lost in reflection, Myrana D'Armaz has appeared in Court, like most everyone else, at the summons of their royal majesties. Dressed in a gown of thick red velvet with her snowy hair braided down her back with ribbons of jet, she fingers the lightsilver bell pendant dangling just below the milky hollow of her throat and chews anxiously at the tip of her thumb, utterly distracted and taking no part in the flutter of conversation around her. Heavy silver bracelets click together at her delicate wrists, layered so heavily that should she drop her hands sharply, the sound would be a clash of bright metal.
Aleira watches the new arrivals calmly as they filter in. Her fan remains still as she observes everything and everyone with that serene pale blue stare. She takes note of the arrivals of Ludovic and Mercy especially, dipping her head to them politely in greeting should they glance her way.
He's dressed in fine clothing for the occasion, all in dark. Slipping in as quietly as possibly, and staying a bit in the background for now, Sylvain looks rather tired as he glances around at the people present, studying them a bit carefully. For now he seems content staying a bit off to the side.
The court of the kingdom of Aequor has been called, and thus the city of Lyioness is full of servants, and minor nobles attending the needs of the Dukes, Viscounts and Barons. There are of course more than one Great Lord in attendence as well. Due to the over crowding and Aequor's general tendency to duel at the drop of a hat, the Cardinal's Guard, men in Red Tabards lined with blue and a silver chain, patrol the streets. It is illegal to duel in Lyioness during High Court, and those caught are made an example of. Usually in the form of a hanging. Justice is fair, swift and brutal in Aequor.
For those attending the High Court, the Palace has banners of all five of Aequor's families. As one enters, ther eis of course the Royal blue banners of House al'Ramar, the Royal Family of Aequor. Entering the Palace there are four banners hanging where one can see them easily in a display of prominence.
The Banner of House al'Callenta, ice white and royal blue split diagnal, the spear of Aequor priminent in two opposite corners. This banners hangs just to the right of the doorway of the Great hall, silently indicating al'Callenta's status as the right hand of the Royal family.
To the left of that door is the purple and black banner of al'Mordran, silently indicating that this is the seat of the Arch-Duchess. Trusted to be on the king's left side where he he can not easily wield a weapon. This house is both a shield and a trusted adviso as the position of the Arch-Duchy demands.
To the right of al'Callenta is the newly raised al'Arran. It's banner, Green and gold with twin lightning bolts and a silver blade is the smallest of those present. This indicated it is both the smallest of the ducal lands, and the newest. Yet it stands firm and proud with the other banners.
Finally, a banner of black with the royal blue crossing it. The banner of the contested lands of al'Morena who have thus far bore the vast brunt of the land invasion by White Hall. It is to the left of al'Mordran but lower on the wall then all the others. A simple light silver chain hangs from the top and drops to touch the floor, indicating by tradition that the house is currently dead. Lightsilver to protect and guide them, and a chain to pull the land back from the abyss and move on.
Inside the Great hall all the banners are in display indicating where one should stand or sit in attendance to the Royal Family. Blue Cavaliers guard the doors, and once inside two more stand guard at this door. Six Cavaliers line each wall to the left and right of the doors. Eight more stand on the back wall behind the thrones, while two stand before the dias of the thrones. In the center of the room is a tall structure covered in black silk. At each point of this structure stand men of the Cardinal's Guard, and beside that, the enigmatic Viscount, Oscar d'Augustino. He smiles brightly and looks to the cloth covered thing with a warm expression.
Standing under the al'Morena side, Viscount Adriono d'Armaz looks over the room with the expression of a man who is just irritated to be here. Occassionally he looks over a small pad of paper as if consulting something, and allows his hawkish gaze to scan the surroundings and thsoe who have entered the court itself. These piercing eyes miss nothing, and betray only annoyance. Once those hawk eyes fal upon his daughter the corner of the left side of his mouth twitches. Which is as much of a smile as he ever shows and gestures for his daughter to do what she does best while representing her husband's Duchy.
The arcadian delegatin take their place, as Mercy stands in her propper place of Prominance near Oscar d'Augustino. Taking in the fact that Eisen and Adriono are both present as well. She does take notice of Myrana, and if the woman looks her way, she gets a smile and a greeting via the fan.
Jordan does take the time to ensure he's standing in the right section… But well in the back and out of the way of the al'Ramar section looking over at the al'Morena banner frowning slightly as he adjusts his stance slightly causing his spurs to clink a bit as he fidgets some adjusting his sword a bit before he looks over at any of the others hiding out in the back of the crowd with him.
His Lordship, Captain Augustin al'Mordran straightens slightly, his posture everso faintly… well… not as straight as it once was. Yet even so, the grizzled sea lord casts his piercing gaze about the court, from those damned swishing fans and the painted women wielding them, to the young nobles wearing those damned fancy clothes. Augustin snarls faintly, a veritable growl beneath his breath as his teeth grind against one another, jaw clenched and his visage fixed into an almost natural scowl.
Myrana lets her hand drop away from her lips, leaving off her unconscious and anxious nibbling at the tip of her thumb with an almost guilty jerk as she finds her father's gaze on her. She bows her head with a little jingle, straightening her shoulders and steeling herself a little with a flicker in her blue eyes.
"I wonder what that is?" whispers someone to her right. Myrana looks up at that black silk covered thing and steps away from the pillar, striding forward to her place beneath the al'Arran banner. All through the court, there are whispered suspicions being shared. Myra pauses to look up at the lightsilver chain dangling from her uncle's banner, twisting absentmindedly at the ring she wears on one thumb.
As she catches Mercy's glance though she smiles, and nods to her in greeting before looking at Augustin.
"Fish in your throat?" she asks him sotto voce.
Aleira takes note of her father standing near the cloth covered object. Oscar d'Augustino receives a faint smile from his youngest daughter and she dips her head respectfully in that direction before her eyes wander away to calmly study her surroundings once again. She doesn't seem inclined to partake in the fan gossip as of yet herself.
Bertram is present with the d'Armaz party as one of the rather unnotable men at arms employed by that fabulously rich house. He's never been very much a man about court at all; he grew up son of a tradesman in the town of Harcourt, then in the Duchy of al'Demesne and now which is no longer even in Aequor, but rather Four Corners. No matter - his life has taken him in a different direction, and his nieces and nephews have now been educated in Fiorello as a reward for his service.
It's evident that these nieces and nephews have chosen the dress for their distinguished uncle. He's got a red and black silk doublet with matching parti coloured hose, the house colours of his liege d'Armaz, and wears a ceremonial heraldic heater shield on his left arm with the arms of the d'Harcourt family (the perferred moniker of the children, though he still goes by simply Bertram of Harcourt) - a red shield with black chevron, a black terrier statant guardant over a golden shovel. On his golden waist belt that indicates his knighthood is a sword, and he's got golden spurs on his boots, not that he uses them very often. The Terrier has no expression at all on his face, but he glances about frequently, mostly at the area surrounding Adriono and that surrounding Myrana. He is, of course, closer to her father…
Augustin turns his narrowed eyes upon Myrana, and for a moment there's no recognition at all. And then there's a brief light within those eyes, "You. You bled on my deck." The words barely hidden or kept low, just a growled accusation towards someone who's very life essence stained the wood of his ship at some point in the distant past. Now that's a grudge. But even so, the elderly Lord bows lightly towards the d'Armaz heir, "Your Grace. Though you were slightly useful up until that point I suppose, you youngsters served some purpose. Speaking of such events, your father repaid his debt to Her Grace yet?" That gravelled voice just wondrously soaked in salt.
The Baron d'Geroux was already in his appropriate section, though a bit nearer the front, given that he was here to give his opinion on who should be Duke or Duchess, as the case may be. A few whispered words are given to his wife before his gaze sweeps around the room, taking note of the other people who are perpetually grumpy, as well as the entrants, such as the d'Juliano woman. A long look was given to the al'Mordran banner and the usually blank Eisen looks haggard for a few brief moments before he seems to compose himself once again. Sigrid's hand is placed on his shoulder and he turns, nodding to her before murmuring in Njorvolk. "<Are you sure about this? A terrible risk.>" All he receives in return is a simple, knowing smile. She was The Fox, after all. "<Very well. Let us see where this goes.>" And with that, his arms cross his barrel chest as he waits for the arrival of the royals.
One of the Cavaliers at the base of the dias steps forward and stamps the but of a halberd on stones of the Grand Hall. In a clear voice once the speaking has quieted down, the Cavalier calls out; "Their Royal Highnesses, King Marias al'Ramar, Defender of the Faith and the High Seat of House al'Ramar and King of the Riverlands of Aequor. He is accompanied by his Wife, the Queen Cynthia al'Ramar, Queen of the Riverlands of Aequor." The man steps back to his position and waits patiently. Behind them, the door to the Royal Study opens and the King and Queen step into the Great Hall. Cynthia's left hand rests lightly on Marias' crook of his right arm.
The pair enter and move to their Thrones. Marias holds Cythia's hand as she sits down. He kisses it gently before he turns to the court and casts a gaze over those in the Great Hall. His voice speaks clear and loudly, moving over the Great Hall easily so that all can be heard. "Welcome to the High Court of the Kingdom of Aequor." He gestures to the room and to the center where the device stands covered in black silk. "Our goal today as a Kingdom is two fold. The first rests there. A law that will be passed in this Great Hall tonight." He nods once. "The second is the choosing of a new Duke or Duchess after the White Hall invasion cost this great kingdom the entire al'Morena line. We will hear from those who wish to take up this position. Then from the Duke and Duchesses, Then the Arch-Duchess Jasmina al'Mordran. Finally the Queen and Myself will decide who will take this position." He looks around the room slowly. "Make no mistake though. Ours is the final decision, and it will be obeyed."
As he sits the Cardinal Lucious Ramius steps up beside the throne and and looks out at those present.
Still keeping a low profile, Sylvain makes his way over towards where he's supposed to be, steps a bit slow. He keeps silent, simply watching the people present. He keeps quiet as the King and Queen enters, nodding a bit quiet as he watches his parents carefully. Listening to the part about the law to be passed, he glances around at the others present, rather carefully.
Jasmina arrives, albeit perhaps a bit late. As always, she has several of her maidens with her as well as a couple guard who stand behind where she sits when she's here. An apologizy is given to anyone who might need one, otherwise the Archduchess is quiet.
Bertram has little to say, other then dropping to a knee and doing the required obeisance to his sovereigns as the King and Queen of Aequor enter. Once they take their throne, the aging knight rises with a bit of a grunt and some effort. He's not getting any younger, but this is at least far easier than being smashed by maces in battle. In between his rude and very direct glancing at certain people, he eyes the black silk covered structure in the middle of the room with some curiosity.
Aleira gracefully takes a knee as the royals enter the room. Her head bows respectfully and only when everyone is bid to rise does she do so as well. She listens carefully as the King speaks keeping her eyes dutifully lowered but remaining alert all the same.
"Did I?" Myrana bows respectfully to Augustin, lilting that snowy head of hers so that the cloudsilk of her braid slips across her shoulders and sways a little against the velvet of her gown. Burnt into the rich red velvet about the wide boat neckline, which so nicely displays her collarbones, a pattern of black dogroses grow in a wild profusion of thorns, tangling keys sewn in gold buillion amid the saw-tooth leaves.
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she half-lids her eyes in thought. In that way, she very much resembles her father, even if the late, not-so-great Frederick Tyres described it with the words 'gargoyle seed'. "You'll have to forgive me; I've bled on a great deal of other people's property-"
But she stops dead in whatever she was about to say at the crack of that halberd on the gold-viened marble. Respectfully, and at once, she drops into a deep and courtly curtsey, the end of her braid sweeping the floor as she does so. She rises only with the rest of Court, when the King takes his throne and it is proper to do so.
Poking the bear is, easily, one of her favorite activities, but there's a time and a place. And in front of the Queen, whom she serves? Perhaps not.
With ladies such as mercy being in clothing that makes taking a knee impossible, The Arcadian countess decides to curtsie instead, with a low curtsie and a bowed head until everyone is bid to rise. Her gaze keeps looking at the silk structure.
When he's back on his feet after giving the required obeisance to the royals, Ludovic drops his voice, his gaze slipping somewhat uneasily to the device, as he conversationally murmurs to the black clad woman (his heir) besides him.
Jordan takes the appropriate knee as the King and Queen enter only standing when the rest of the crowd does. Listening to the King he takes a breath before he looks over at the al'Morena banner again along with the chain frowning a bit as he thinks of the loss of one of the major houses.
Jasmina stamds up and curtseys, her posture near perfect when she does so. When given permission she returns waits until further instructed to sit, remaining standing until that time. Her maids do likewise while her guards take to knee and bow their heads.
The old Lord slowly kneels, for one able to hold his ground on a swaying deck of a shot-blasted frigate, kneeling is indeed in another realm altogether. Down he goes. Down and down and down, muscles and sinew creaking, bones aching. And then with a judder, Augustin kneels and bows his head to the King and Queen. Liver spots and all. Myrana's words ensuring a further if brief grinding of teeth. For there's a the ascent too. And up he goes, creaking slowly, knees grinding and his back slowly straightening. And then beside Myrana, the ancient mariner is upright once more. And looking decidedly more pissed. There's little need to bow on a ship. Though there is a bow. Just not many bows.
Eisen and crew make the proper observences of etiquette as the royals enter, rising after the appropriate time. He does cast his glance towards the black silk covered device in the center of the room, but then he'll return his eyes to the the royals. Another quiet murmur before he ponders the next course of action.
The King nods to the Cardinal. Cardinal Ramius steps forward and spreads his arms wide as if he is encompassing the entire Great Hall. "Today, under the eyes of the One and his great light emenated by the Kingdom of the Sun you will be those first welcomed protection by the Inquisition!" He smiles broadly. "The King has agreed to hose a chapter house of the Inquisition here in Lyioness, the purpose of which will be the destruction of hidden Many Worshippers, and more importantly the killing of those vile Abyss curses Sorcerers that have plagued this land. Events like Mathis, and more than one battle in the War of the West saw lands and people killed by these dark forces, but today we will put that to rest." He gestures to Viscount d'Augustino.
Oscar d'Augustino smiles. "Thank you my dear Cardinal!" With a flourish he pulls the silk off the device. Beneath the Black Silk is a tall contraption. Two pillars support a Light Silver Blade easily as big as a man's torso with struts to attach a person to. "Please Cardinal. Bring out the Test subject."
The Cardinal nods and form teh back of the room the doors are opened. Between two of the Cardinal's Guards a man, wrapped in a light silver chain with light silver manacles is dragged between themm. The man struggles and screams. "LET ME GO! I'M INNOCENT! I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS!"
Oscar smiles at the man as he is strapped into the machine. He continues to kick and scream and plead his innocence. Oscar however gestures. "This is a Sorcerer Execution Device. I call it the "Falling Blade." It's Lightsilver blade is uniquely designed to kill Sorcerer's and has been alchemically treated to resist their attempts." He nods to the Cardinal who takes up the tale.
"This man is the son of Lord d'Siegrias of the Duchy of al'Arran. My men and members of the Inquisition are always looking for servants of the Abyss, and my guess is, thanks to the influence of the Many Worshipping Icenalians, the North is always so full of them." He smiles to Myrana. "Rest assured, I am not implying your house is traitors or terrible. It is just where we found him." He smiles broadly to the room again. "This man is an Earth Sorcerer. He is not touching the ground, and he is wrapped in Lightsilver. From this day hence, if one is discovered by the Inquisition to be in possession of these Magics … " He gestures sharpy to Oscar d'Augustino.
With the pull of a lever the blade falls. There is a loud THUD and a softer SHUNCK. The man's screams end immediately and there is a spray of blood from the head as it rolls away to bounce on the floor and ends at Mercy's feet. The blade, apparently apring loaded, retracts and more blood sprays. Oscar nods once. "Perhaps the apring loaded is a bad idea? Quite messy."
Bertram, an engineer par excellence by trade and inclination, is utterly fascinated with the device. He leans forward and squints in order to take the details in more fully. The fact that it's designed to execute doesn't phase the knight in the least; after all, most of his exploits have done far worse than this thing could do. When it falls and slices the young noble's head off, he claps his gloved hands together in appreciation for the whole process.
Mercy looks at the device, it's a guillotine, like the one that's in new Kashmir's high square, the same thing she sentenced her eldest daughter to as punishment for treason. But this… a person being killed simply because they are given a gift they can't control, and the fact such gore is done inside the great hall, does cause the Countess to frown just slightly. She says nothing, verbaly, thouygh her fan is flickering in her hand. « Was this nessisary? »
Though probably not shocking to those who know her, she doesnt look sickend by the display. blood and severed body parts are par for the course for her line of work. Still the definition of criminal differs for everyone.
Aleira watches as her father unveils his newest invention. She studies the whole process with rap attention canting her head to the side. She flicks her fan to relay her curiousity and responds to the flickering of Mercy's fan with her own while keeping her own expression mildly curious. «Not nessacary at all I don't think. While I admire my Father's latest invention…it seems wrong to condemn sorcery if its an inborn condition. It would be like killing people for being born in a certain month of the year. Conditions of birth are not reason alone for killing someone. Now if he truly did something wrong…» She watches the bloody execution without seeming bothered at all.
Ludovic genuinely can't watch, flinching away from the sight, or more likely emotions, even as he tries to hide the response. As the execution happens he turns to look at his cousin, his expression suggesting he might genuinely be sick, even as he tells her "I hope Courts over soon. I need a drink."
Augustin watches the display by the Inquisitor and the Cardinal, the very nature of the man being dragged to his doom something that at least lightens the mood when it comes to the old sea lord's frame of mind. Given the Captain is no stranger to executions, having lynched an entire pirate crew in less than ten minutes, the display certainly finds a loud and rousing applause from the old Captain, "I applaud the sentiment, though the execution of its duties could use some work. Nothing a good man or woman couldn't do with said blade. Less mess also. Hah. And here I assumed this would be the usual dreary matters of land and all that dwells upon it. Damned good though."
The only sign that the Archduchess is bothered by the sight of the beheading is the slight wince she gives when the blood sprays. Otherwise, she is stone-faced, nothing to give away her feelings on the subject. Of course her maids don't fare as well and one actually faints while the other has to hurriedly excuse herself so she can rush to the privy. Poor girls. They are sadly of a weaker constitution than their mistress is.
Watching this rather impassively, expression as unreadable as it has been for most of the day, Sylvain glances around rather momentarily, then back to the front. He doesn't say anything, but then again, he hasn't been speaking much with people for the last few days.
Mercy does, however, show proper deference to the dead, criminal or no, it's bad luck to disrespect those of the departed, and she drapes a white kerchif over his head. "Paid is owed, square again." She says in a low tone, even pirates who were hung got this same sort of mercy from… well… Mercy!
The Queen flinches as the balde drops and grips her husband's arm tightly. She is about to speak but the King pats his arm. "Later my love. We have a kingdom to run now." He stands and steps forward. "Let it be known that the Inquisition will have access to any and all houses of Aequor. None may be denied. We will route out the darkness of this Kingdom and bring peace to the Riverlands." He sits back down and gestures. "Now. Who first wishes to make a claim for the Duke of Evalle?"
Cardinal Ramius smiles and steps behind the King and Queen. The Body is left in the contraption, but at least the blood has stopped squirting. The Viscount d'Augustino moves to his section of court and watches, beaming with pride over his creation.
"The Inquisition-!" Myrana breathes it in horror, as much of the Court does; a ripple of anxious whispering flutters among the Aequoran nobility at this announcement… but no one. NO ONE speaks above a whisper as that shockwave passes through the chamber.
Unable to stop herself, Myrana crosses the sign of the One over her breast, gone quite as pale as a ghost. But like everyone else, dead silent as the Cardinal continues.
…That is, until she sees the strange device standing here, craning her head to look up at it.
"What is this horrible thing?" she murmurs to Eisen D'Geroux, who is standing close by.
But if he responds, she misses it, for her gaze is dragged to the young man screaming as he's carried in, wrapped in lightsilver chains like a ghost. At first she doesn't recognize him; his face is contorted and she's never seen the handsome young D'Sleigras in such a terrified state.
But when she does, the look of betrayed horror that sweeps up over the young woman is clear to see. Confusion, then alarm… then the much, much more dangerous, and impossible to miss, dismay.
"What…!" She slaps off the hands of the d'Mucoire knight who steps up to pull her back, blue eyes wide and the whole of her shaking from head to foot. "What are you doing? Set him down!" Another knight joins him, and Ravio her cousin and bodyguard, steps up to whisper urgently in her ear, but without success; she pulls at the knight's hands, disbelieving. This cannot be happening. It's well known that the young Armaz avoids public executions. Some that know her make sympathetic noises, while others scoff behind their fans and hide mocking smiles. How cute. An Armaz with feeelings.
The Cardinal's smiling explanation and his reassurance that he suspects no wrongdoing in her husband's house splashes off of her and she exclaims in horror, looking wildly from the other nobles in the Court on up to the towering Falling Blade. And blanches, realizing what's really truly about to happen.
Before she can gather herself or her wits or anything at all, however, the young man is laid screaming on the machine's platform in a businesslike manner and the blade falls with a sound like crashing death.
As the man is decapitated, Eisen watches dispassionately. Yet another way to kill people in a long and varied history of killing people. Yawn. The blood though, that could get everywhere. Like all over the midget standing next to him. And so, the large man quickly slides his cloak from his shoulders, interposing it between the arterial spray and Myrana, politely letting the crimson splatter against it harmlessly. He holds it there for a few moments, looking down at the one he shielded and saying something quietly. After a short while longer, he removes the cloak from before the Duchess and hands it off to a retainer. The Baroness d'Geroux simply wrinkles her nose slightly, but says nothing. She's no stranger to death, but at least White Hall gives a man the honor of a quick death on his feet instead of in some contraption.
Aleira notes her father's pride and sends him a soft smile. She stays quiet and merely observes as the arguments appear to be getting underway. She withholds a sigh. Her fan flicks lightly. «I do hope this doesn't devolve to petty squabbling…let me pray for logical arguments only then.»
Aleira notes her father's pride and sends him a soft smile. She stays quiet and merely observes as the arguments appear to be getting underway. She withholds a sigh. Her fan flicks lightly. «I do hope this doesn't devolve to petty squabbling…let me pray for logical arguments only then.»
Jordan watched the execution with a calculating gaze before he looks back over and nodding a bit at the new law. And then business of the Duchy begins and he perks up a bit more to listen to the cases for each of those wanting to be elevated to the new Duchy house.
Once mercy is premmited, she steps around the severed head to approach the proper spot from which to adress the court. No one should be shocked that she's aiming for the vacant spot, just like no one was shocked that she marched her forces south to deal with that usurper.
"Your majesties, Graces, feelow excelencies and other lords and ladies and knights of the Court. Over the past several months we have been plagued by a menace from outside our kingdom, Reist the usurper, a man who murdered a duke without parley or call for ransom, has taken aequoran soil. As Countess of Arcadia, and Friend to the late Duke James al'Morena, I have mobilized a force, I have stablized trade within the reagion, and made trade routs to fully supply the army that is currently blockading the Usuperurs advance."
"I have spent the finale of last year in bringing the region and province back to a usable stability, and put myself forward as candidate for the raised title of Duchess of Aliscae. I've proven that under my leadership it can be done, and with said title I will also work to push that false king's Forces out of our grand nation, and to present him, dead or alive, to the court." She says as she was looking to each noble in the al'Morena banner, before her gase turns back to the King and Queen.
"And so, with your Blessings my Leiges, and with the good of the kingdom firmly in mind, I do hope you find me an agreeable candidate for this position, I will do the kingdom, your majesties, and the late Duke al'Morena's memory great pride in my strivings. Thankyou." She says as she bows and steps back to her place, for a Sailor, she did handle that speech with poise and propper vernacular that is expected of someone of her station.
When Eisen drops his cloak away from in front of her again, Myrana is shaken. Shaking, in fact, and white as a ghost. But silent. Her shoulders tremble visibly and her bloodless hands are caught up at throat and lips, covering her mouth as she struggles to compose herself. Fat tears stand in her eyes and threaten to slip down her cheeks, but at last she drags her gaze away from the ropy spray of blood splashed over the marble, and the crisp white handkerchief tented over the goggle-eyed head where it lies.
Myra jerks her eyes away, in fact, and focuses them for a moment on the ground to her left, still trembling as she composes herself. Light winks off of the gold fiorello comb in her hair from the brilliant windows and many hanging lamps and candles that fill the Court with glittering light. She doesn't take her hand away from her mouth just yet, but takes a deep, shuddering breath and closes her eyes, left hand stirring to make the sign of the One again over her chest in silent prayer.
The Cardinal nods once to Mercy and claps his hands. "Well spoken Viscountess. Your defeat at the hands of this usurper was at the least not due to incompetance, and you bloodied his nose besides." He smiles to Mercy and looks to the King. "Your Majesty, she would indeed be a valuable Duchess. But, I pray, may I ask this subject of your's a question?"
King Marias nods. "Of course. I always value the Wisdom of the One's voice on Tirth."
The Cardinal smiles. "You humble me your Majesty." He then steps forward and gestures to Mercy. "As I said. You're defeat was not due to incompetance, indeed you have shown remarkable resourcefulness and skill since the Ragnessen defeated you and has run ramshod all over our the Riverlands. You have even devoted your own man power to defending the front lines am I correct? Your little ditch and wood forts. They even sort of held up to an attack by him I hear." He smiles and gestures with a hand. "Again. Competance. You may be no Duke al'Arran or Silver Bull, but you are talented." He raises a finger. "But. Pressing question. If you became Duke, who would take over your lands? Your own heir turned Pirate and tried to kill you!" He says the last with a little laugh.
Jasmina shakes her head at something. "I am curious about something myself. You're an Admiral in the navy. A high ranking noble should be present for their people at just about all times. Would you be willing to give up the Admiralty for this position, Countess? Or would you let your people languish in whatever need might arise while you're off, fighting pirates or whatever on the open sea?"
"And she was given the ultimate punishment for that transgression your emminence, in the same way as was demonstrated here today. I chose duty over family in that instance, and I would again should the need arise." Mercy says, as she gives a smile. "Antina d'Juliano is my new Heir, and has, to this date, completed every task and lession I have set before her with expectations that exceed my own. She would become countess of Arcadia, and my son, Reynard d'Juliano, would be her heir and seneschal until she produces a heir of her own." She says simply and with a smile.
"And I would give up my Rank as admiral, for the good of the crown, and it's people." Mercy responds with respect to Jasmina, which shocks all the arcadians in attendance, mercy loves the sea as much as her children, and she is willing to give it up to serve as duchess?.
If he notices Myrana's reaction to the execution, and how could he not, Sir Bertram of Harcourt says nothing. His clapping had long fallen away and hands returned to hook in the golden knightly belt. He does watch her carefully, though from what motive is impossible to determine. His expression is flinty and unscrutable. Occasionally, he looks over to where the claims of Duchy are taking place. Not like he gets a vote. Didn't he almost get into a fight with this one's retainers, years ago?
Augustin crosses his arms over his chest and eyes those apparently being called and destined to be called forth. The name of Antina certainly brings a faint sneer to those old and weathered features, "One has to wonder if those seeking this seat…." Augustin's voice no doubt carries, for he isn't the quietest of sorts, "Well, the line that claims it should be pure Aequorian stock dedicated to serving King, Country, and the One, and only the One. We've enough heathens running amok to the west, let alone tainting bloodlines."
The Cardinal smiles to Mercy and nods once. "That was all I had to question her with your Majesty. Thank you."
The King nods to Mercy. "Your devotion to the crown is noted Viscountess." He looks about the room and gestures. "My good friend Adriono, I highly doubt you wish to speak on this position without letting your honored voice be heard."
The corner of Adriono's lips do that twitch agian as he bows before the King and Queen. "Indeed not your Majesty." He states plainly. "And. Unlike the Viscountess d'Juliano I have true respect for the crown and act accordingly. Not in some pompous show of a blatent attempt at a grab for power by a person, whom I remind the Arch-Duchess and their Majesties is a former pirate who PLAGUED the Duchy of Evalle and her people." He turns to face all those there.
"I have served the crown since I was a boy. My family has worked hard to see this Kingdom prosper." Adriono says to the court. He gestures to himself. "I have fought for this Kingdom, this CROWN to defend our Great King's /father/ in the Thirty year War, and then our King against the Tarris Dogs when they ravished Evalle. If the Mercenary troops I had brought had not been there, House Tarris and that monster The betrayer would have killed our King. Instead I bear the scars of defending the Crown." He stands tall. "For years my family has protected the shores from Pirates and White Hallers. We sent troops on the Crusade against Icenalia, and I lost SONS to continue to defend this thrown. My own heir, One protect his soul, died fighting bandits who threatened our peace and the King's road." He turns back to the King and Queen. "Your Majesties. My life has been one of service. With my ties to Four Corners, my money, and my organizational prowess I offer myself once again to the people of my Duchy. My son can inherit the d'Armaz, and my son Altair can be HIS heir until one is found. BUT know this my old friend, even if I am not chosen, House d'Armaz will offer all that I have mentioned because I am your man, and at the end of the day," He kneels with his head hung low, "I serve you and this Great Kingdom."
A few ladies fan to Aleira. «See? Both the old men look for PURE bred Aequorans.»
Another sends her, «I wonder what kind of breeding Adriono's Daughter does with that large Northerner?»
The Queen fans immediately, «Can't be as good as the King's … Breeding.»
All over the court women suddenly titter.
Jasmina's not speaking with her fan but she does catch the 'conversation' and she presses her lips tight together to suppress a laugh. Good lord, ladies. Decorum, please!
Cynthia al'Ramar turns her head to Jasmina and simply winks.
"Adriono the Duke! For Aequor!" Sir Bertram starts the cry that is quickly taken up by the other d'Armaz retainers. They cheer, and cheer. They bash things on their shields to increase the clamour.
Aleira fans back to the ladies with a casual flick of her wrist, fan fluttering as she watches the talking. «If the Northerner is any larger than a normal man its a wonder the poor Lady can walk afterwards.» She keeps a straight face and replies to the queen. «Well he is the king your Majesty. He is of course supposed to be superior to the others.»
Mercy blinks, she never priated against aequor, if the old bag of lies and piss is going to use her past against her, he should at least get the damn story right.
« The Al'arran duchess is a sturdy woman who looks to be able to handle such… breeding. »
A sharp flick open of a fan that was previously closed comes from the Baroness d'Geroux who gives some input of her own. «All this talk of breeding…you'd almost think it were spring.»
The King shakes his head witha chuckle. "So dramatic." He stnads and helps Adriono to his feet. "Rise old friend, and know the Crown thanks and loves you for all your years of devoted service and all that you have sacrificed for us. Your daughter," He gestures to Myrana, "Is loved like one of my own. Your interest is so noted."
Adiono nods and says, "Thank you your Majesty." Then moves back to his place among the court.
The Queen fans. «I should hope so. It's more a wonder the Duchess al'Arran doens't have more of a litter of babies given how verile her father is. I bet half you women in here have had him under your kirtle!»
The King, headless of the titters and fan fluttering continues. "Baron Eisen d'Geroux. The Ghoul." He lets the byname hang in the air for a while as his eyes find the large man easily among the assembled court. "I have heard your name mentioned. There are two Viscounties vying, why should the court consider you for this position?"
Myrana's blye eyes glitter with naked murder; she seems to tense, and finally lets her hands fall away from hiding her mouth and her throat, causing the little bell she wears to jingle.
But at least anger is easier to handle than shock. She gives a crack of her wrist that snaps her fan open with a razor sound and sweeps the air away from herself in disgust, trying not to see the ribald conversation flying around her on the leaves of fans. The gesture is extremely rude and dismissive in fanspeak and could really be spelled out in four letters or less, generally speaking. The equivalent of shaking one's sword dry. Her eyes stay prudently away from Her majesty, and away from the body cooling there on the device. Will no-one clear it away?
« Him? Perish the thought where it concerns myself Majesty, Virile he might be, but a broken man should the alturnative be true. » She says, sultry as always, is Mercy. « Though speaking of Breeding, Lady Aleira and Lord sir Jordan would make a fine couple, and fine babies. » Her family does know how to deal with marriages, and mercy should just settle and become a matchmaker, she is good at it, like the rest of her family.
Aleira flicks her fan once more her expression serene. «I cannot say -I- have Your Majesty.» Mercy's message has her tilting her head to regard the woman curiously. «You are as bad as my father Your Excellency. While what you say -might- be true enough I find alchemy much more interesting than…men."
The Queen raises an eyebrow with a sly smile. «Have you not heard the saying? There is DEFINATLEY Alchemy happening with the right man. Especially if his breeding is any good.» She gestures with her fan to Augustin, «Obviously not with him, I doubt any woman other than the ancient Goddesses of the Sea would touch that Salty thing.» She smiles at Myrana as she makes the gesture. «Forgive me my love, I know you are secretly sensative, but we must do something to lighten the mood. I promise there will be justice for your lands.» She smiles as the ladies in the room go quiet for a moment. «Now. At least give us SOME juicey details on that Northern Mount of yours.»
Slowly, Eisen steps forward and gives a bow to the royals, deeper than those before, as appropriate his station. "I have indeed heard my name mentioned for these proceedings, and there has been wonder if I would make an attempt to ingratiate myself and rise above my current station." The d'Geroux man turns and gazes out over the crowd for a moment before returning his gaze to the royalty. "There has been talk of friends, about how James al'Mordran was a dear friend. I cannot claim such a thing. The man was not my friend, but he did not require my friendship, only my service, which I provided, both out of respect for him and respect for the Crown." The voice of the man was loud enough to hear for the crowd, but it was oddly cold…perhaps fitting for The Ghoul.
"There have been words spoken about duty to country and to crown. I cannot say that I have risked a great fortune, great lands, or great titles for the Crown…but I have never required them. During the ill-named Peace Ball, I risked my life for her Majesty, the Queen, and was rewarded with my lands and elevated to the title of Baron. I did not request such a thing, nor were my actions motivated by some desire to see my position raised. They were done because they were necessary and it was my duty." He turns to look out over the crowd once again, and at his retainers, some of which were still scarred and exhausted from the battles and then the trip here.
"With all due respect, your Majesties, I do not desire to make some bid for the Duchy as if I am trying to purchase some prize with favor and honeyed words. I have lands that need tending, a people that need a leader, and a great wound at the heart of our country to mend. If you decide to bestow the title upon me, make no mistake, I will do my absolute best to ensure that I fulfill that duty with all of my being…but if you want my opinion, I would see Viscount d'Armaz elevated."
Again, Bertram and the d'Armaz boys cheer - this time both Eisen's name and Adriono's, but still, 'Adriono the Duke'. While they may act as riff raff, they're all annointed knights. Which may say more about the quality of those who are given spurs rather than anything else…
Augustin eyes the noisy knights. Damnable things knights. A withering stare lingers upon each and all, for the unknighted Augustin, a serving sailor of the Aequorian Royal Navy for one too many decades has little need of spurs to steady himself upon the roiling sea. And so he glowers, though he does remark to a nearby Lord, "One wonders if his wife would convert if he got the title!" A croaked harrumph soon follows. And glowering resumes accordingly.
The King nods and looks to his Queen who nods her head. "If there are no others who so wish to put their name in for the title, then I would hear from the Arch-Duchess." He gestures to Jasmina who appears about to speak unless somebody interupts her …
Aleira keeps her expression perfectly calm as she watches the speeches continue. The queen receives a response with a flicker of her fan. «I do not doubt it Your Majesty. But the sort of explosions from that kind of alchemy have much longer term consequences.»
The D'Acuto heir steps forward after the rest of the cases have been presented the knight's spurs clinking as he walks until he's positioned before the King and Queen as the rest of the applicants he presents himself with a deep bow, "Your Majesties, Cardinal, and your Graces, I am Jordan D'Acuto the current heir to the D'Acuto Barony, son of Baron Artos D'Acuto and the Late Baroness Lucia D'Acuto… nee al'Morena. My mother was the sister of Duke James al'Morena. As the blood of the al'Morena line flows through my veins, as well as D'Acuto who has been a humble and staunch servant of the Throne for generations now, I humbly request to be considered to fill the vacancy left by my uncle's passing at the hands of Reist and his raiders." He offers a brief gesture towards Eisen, "As the Baron stated I'm not here to try and win a plot of land though. There has been a grave injury to our Kingdom and I felt duty bound to offer to continue my uncle's legacy. If Your Majesties choose me to fill my uncle's seat my sister would become the D'Acuto heir and as I am currently unwed I would of course seek to rectify that as quickly as possible to ensure that there is a proper heir in place as well." Taking a short breath he waits to field any questions before he he attempts to depart the hot spot.
Mercy blinks, a blood claim… and the rest of the Arcadian group start whispering, fans flash about this new predicament.
One of the D'Geroux ladies snorts audibly behind her fan with a little trill that echoes «secretly» in a highly, highly derisive manner. «Little Black Cat has no more fire in her loins than cold lamp!»
Myrana ignores this, if she even saw it, and bows her head to the Queen, cheeks burning and hand softening reluctantly on her fan. «I think nothing of it», is her response. A hesitant pause, and she looks at Eisen as he defers his wishes to her father's candidacy, surprised, and for a split second alarmed. This, however, she hides quickly.
Nevertheless, in the clangor of cheering and rattling and thumping that follows all this, she makes eye-contact with the Queen with baited fan. Then turns her gaze thoughtfully to Eisen, and then to Jordan D'Acuto.
Augustin mutters as he eyes Jordan, especially so the doublet. The Royal Navy Captain has opinions upon doublets and doublet-wearers. Given the faint curling of his upper lip, those opinions are evidently not as positive as some might well think, "A damned youngster!" The sharp gravelled bite of his words barked forth.
The King blinks and looks to Cynthia. "I had no idea James had survivnig blood. I thought this was researched."
The Queen looks at Jordan and gestures for him to step upon the Dias. "Come here child." She says simply.
Cardinal Lucious Ramius claps his hands. "The One protected and sheltered the Blood your Majesties. The Church supports his claim by right of blood. I can of course have the Inquisition research this claim to make sure it is not false."
The King holds up a hand to the Cardinal. "I think I remember James mentioning his sister. Once. Long ago." He too waits for the boy to step forward.
Jasmina al'Mordran speaks up at this point. "Your Majesties. If there is indeed a blood claim, then the Arch-Duchy of al'Mordran supports the Lord Jordan d'Acuto in his claim. We would require, as he mentioned, he be married and produce an heir soon, but in the meantime would name someone heir to keep this from happening again."
Adriono's head whips to Jordan and his eyes, those hawkish eyes narrow /just/ so when he speaks. He says nothing but steps back one step, silently giving ground to the sronger claim before the throne.
« I guess the old salty dog forgot that at one point he was a youngster, though I have a feeling his breeding would end up with children already in their silver years.» Mercy fans with a smirk.
A random Lady Knight fans casually. «Pretty sure he only shoots pure salt. Appropriate since anybody he might love is a ghost now, he can fuck em and they can leave him once the salt spreads.»
Aleira flicks her fan to Mercy. «Do you still think he would make a good match for me Your Excellency? With the way things are going he might be out of my league after all.» She observes the newest consder carefully her gaze calm and thoughtful.
As a lady titters and others follow, one fans quickly in response, « Test is breeding, you can let the rest of us know before we make our moves! »
A soft fanning from Sigrid once again. «With his mast pickled and softened by so much seawater, one wonders how he'd even find a way to unfurl his sails.»
Myrana's gaze goes from the young Jordan D'Acuto, studying his features in surprse… to her father. Watching Adriono's response, and the way he sizes up the man. Her fan is forgotten in her hand, caught midway through the act of actually closing it.
Mercy fans back. « Nonsense, he will need a Duchess with a strong mind, were I younger, I'd take him myself… were I younger. » She looks young, but she is almost 38 years old. « Mooring rope might do it. »
Jordan steps forward as the King and Queen request his presence on the Dias taking a knee when he arrives and bows his head, "Your majesties." He's quiet as he lets his betters discuss things for now, "If an heir is a worry I do have younger siblings that share the al'Morena blood."
Bertram steps forward towards Adriono and whispers to him, "You just let me know, y'Excellency." Nothing more needs to be siad.
Aleira fans back to Mercy. «I have a feeling my father would be delighted with that idea. I however am not one to even presume I deserve such, if it happens it will happen. If not I will remain content as I am.»
«Is that how you manage that barbarian of yours, Armaz?» fans the D'Geroux woman with the artfully coiled hair, stepping sideways to be a little closer to the distracted young woman. «I hear the D'Armaz are good with rope.»
«You would need a lot of rope,» opines another lady across the room, catching this conversation.
«But he won't even get on a boat, I hear. Or a horse.»
Spreading her fan, Myrana turns her gaze down at it as if to consider the bees and river rushes painted on the finely carved tortoiseshell, and the hollow of her throat flickers. Her mood refuses to be lifted, which… is not surprising, perhaps. Hair stirred by the moderate breeze of fantalk around her, she turns to one of the similarly grim Arrani nobles standing with her and whispers something in his ear once he's leaned down a little to hear it.
The King nods as Jordan kneels and Cynthia gently lifts his head so she can look at him. "He has the al'Morena eyes. The intesity. The Color." She says and gently pats Jordan's shoulder. "My condolances to your loss. Your Uncle sered the Crown well and we would be fools to dishonor him by not granting you the title owed by blood."
Marias raises an eyebrow. "My Queen. We must consider the other - "
The Queen's fan SNAPS shut loudly. "James al'Morena died holding the line. His hole family died fighting those White Hall Brutes. This man, is a Knight, something James never accomplished, and has already sworn through that Knighthood to defend the Kingdom. I will hear nothing more Marias, the man's claim is good."
The King frowns for a moment and folds his arms shaking his head before he lets out a slow chuckle. "I can't go against my wife when she is so set that she speaks thus in fornt of our Kingdom." He lifts her hand and kisses it.
THe Queen nods and snaps a finger at one of the Cavaliers. "Otavian. Give me your cloak."
Tavi Deverout steps forward and unfastens his half cape in a flourish and offers it to the Queen who takes it. Tavi's eye's go to Myrana and he winks at her as he mouths the words; "I beat you here. HA!"
The Queen, ignoring the play between Tavi and Myrana steps up to James and fastens the cloak on his shoulder. "In honor of your Uncle who died valiantly defending this realm I name you one of the Blue Cavaliers, and Duke of the Province of Evalle. You may choose your new capital since the savages hold your ancestral one."
The King leans in to whisper to the Queen, somehting that only the Cardinal and Jordan might hear. "A bit Dramatic love?"
"This or the couch in your study my King."
Mercy looks and nods, a blood claim is legitimate and a blood claim. Mercy closes her fan. "Blood trumps anything else, I can walk away happy." She murmurs to the other Arcadians as she watches the rest of the court, though, he may be blood and a knight, still, she will offer her services to help him along, because that's what must be done. Though it does sting, she will take such a sting in stride, for now.
Aleira flicks her fan thoughtfully. «Well that seems to have went well. It is good that someone with al'Morena blood was alive to inherit. Here is hoping he will be successful.» She glances over the room, judging reactions and sneaking a glance at her father to try and discretely see what Count Oscar is thinking about this matter.
Jordan blinks for a moment as the cloak is settled on his shoulder as it all, "Thank you your majesties. You honor myself and my family and I swear that the capital will return to the ancestral one. But for now unless the lines have shifted again I believe d'Picot's fortress would best serve as the capital until Alsace is taken back and restored to us." The Cavalier cloak is still blowing his mind though.
As the new Duke is given his title, Eisen nods to his wife and they both step forward once he steps down and turns around. The Baron gives an appropriate bow and the Baroness curtsies. "Your Grace. We may not know much of each other, but there will be time to remedy that. For now, however, I offer you my service and the service of my line, from now until you choose to discharge me from that service. My hands and mind are yours." The pair bow/curtsey again, deeply.
Myrana rakes her bangs back from her face with her fingers and levels a silent blue-eyed look at Tavi past the Queen that'd be described in most polite circles as openly homicidal, and by Ramius as 'The Reason We're Married', but holds her tongue.
Despite the attempts at levity around the growing pool of blood (enjoyed most wholeheartedly after a while amongst the ladies of court, who think nothing at all of killing a witch for the safety of Aequor and in service of the One!), and the monumental announcement of a new Duke, Myrana's gaze keeps going back to the guillotine, and the head of the young man still chained to it.
Once the d'Geroux are done with their pledge, Mercy appraches Jordan. "I shall see this war to the end, with your blessing your grace, until such a time as Reist is delt with, you shall have the services of me and my vassalege." She says, still willing to toss her lot in to the fullest, even if she isnt promoted.
Jordan stays kneeling until the King and Queen are done with him before he stands up and offers another bow to the King and Queen before he steps back from the dias looks to Eisen and offers the Baron a bow of his head, "Thank you your excellency. Your service is appreciated and will not be overlooked." As Mercy approaches he smiles and offers the woman another bow of his head, "Your excellency, your assistance and services you've already provided for the people are greatly appreciated. I look forward to sitting down with you and the rest of the nobles as we set out a battleplan to win back our lands and rid them of the invaders."
The King nods once and then speaks once more. "Baron Eisen d'Geroux." He locks his eyes with the large man. "Viscountess Talia d'Geroux was killed fighting the White Hallers as well. This leaves the Viscounty open, and I beleive with all that you have done for the Kingdom against these invaders, the d'Geroux name could do with you as their Patron. Therefor I name you Viscount Eisen d'Geroux of Fox Hollow, and the d'Gerouc County." To Mercy he turns and nods once to the sailor. "You too have served us well Viscountess d'Juliano. To you we give Command of the Royal Navy as well as your own. The title of Royal Admiral, and the headquarters for the Navy shall be moved to Kashmire. To you we task the rebuilding of the Fleet to defend our shores." Then he speaks to Adriono. "Old friend. If the new Duke hadn't had so strong a claim, I would be calling you Duke. Ther is little I can offer you but - "
Adriono holds up a hand. "Please. Your Majesty. It is an honor to serve, and I shall uphold my promises. I'll have my son Nicolo speak with the new Duke to get things rolling while I oversee the hiring of troops for his New Grace's much needed new Ducal Army. The Province of Evalle shall be strong again. This I swear."
The King nods. "Well spoken again old friend."
Mercy blinks as the king actaly DOE promote her. The royal admiral of the royal navy. Her fan flutters out because she feels abit flushed, even as someone commants off handedly that Mercy has a high military office and is not, as it looks, a knight. And to the truth, the Admiral was never knighted.
Augustin stands and watches the Dukedom fall to a blood relative, a Viscouncy to a Ghoul, and the Royal Navy to a… well even Augustin has to grudgingly accept she's a good sailor. The old fellow nods but once, hands clasped behind his back as he watches the court, while aching for the waterways and seas that run through and about Aequor.
Myrana's heavy skirts rustle as she steps forward and curtseys gravely to the new duke. "Condolences are in order," she says in her smoky little voice, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she straightens, looking at Jordan. That blue gaze cuts past his shoulder just for a moment towards someone beyond him; Adriono, perhaps? but then it returns to his face, and while she's obviously quite distracted with the public execution of the Witch, her vassal's son, the young Armaz keeps her voice gentle. She's short, and so she looks up at him, and pitches her voice to carry just to his ears as she adds: "Courage, knight." Before stepping back and out of the way of further people wishing to speak to him.
As others file past her, she turns around and considers the Falling Blade. Looking up at it with her hands at her sides and her snowy braid falling down her back in a white pennant, head craning and the scars on her throat showing beneath the band of her pendant like the faded mark of tiger jaws. Pulse flickers in the hollow there between her collarbones, and she steps up to it with a soft chime of jewelry. Staring.
Something touches the edge of her skirts. She looks down; the head of the d'Slegrias boy.
Myrana kneels down, and takes it in her hands with a clatter of heavy silver bracelets, supporting it with one and keeping Mercy's Handkerchief pressed with infinite tenderness over the face hidden beneath.
Aleira remains in the background watching the promotions given out with a calm expression. She sneaks another breif gaze to her father and then looks back to Jordan smiling ever so faintly in approval of the newly made Duke.
A jangle or something draws Ludovic's attention across to what Myrana's doing and for several long moments he simply stares across after her. Thoughts trip past each other and then he sighs and moves over to where she is, crouching besides her and putting a hand lightly on the silver haired womans shoulder. "I'm sorry you didn't know." He keeps his voice low, aiming it at Myrana alone. "Come. Theres nothing to be done to fix things. You know this is how it was always going to be."
As Eisen is promoted to Viscount, The Ghoul offers a bow once again to the King and Queen. "I shall serve the county as well as I can, your Majesty. It will take time to mend the wound, but either it will be done or the enemy will pay such a price that even their Gods will weep for the loss." Well, that was unexpected…but not entirely unplanned for. He knew Talia had died and that the void would eventually need to be filled, but he didn't quite expect it to be so soon. Plans would need to be made…and speaking of such.
With purpose, Eisen moves over to his fellow Viscount, leaning in to speak quietly for a moment. "Your Excellency…I believe we have some business to discuss regarding a matter of importance. Perhaps tomorrow, after the feast?"
Adriono nods once to Eisen. "In the evening is fine …. Viscount." He states matter of factly.
Myrana's chest tightens. The shoulder under Ludovic's hand is precisely the same temperature as the Court's stirring air. A subtle thing, and perhaps too subtle a tell to worry about, but standing in the shadow of the Guillotine, no little discrepancy can be counted too small, among sorcerers.
"If he was a Witch, there was nothing," she murmurs, straightening up again and keeping the young man's head in her hands. A thick, wet splatter falls to the marble as a strand of viscera falls from the perfectly shorn stump.
Jordan offers a bow of his head as Myrana approaches, "Thank you Your Grace." And as the next batch of words reaches his ears he nods again before she's gone to collect up a head. And as the next bout of promotions goes out he nods towards them each in turn. For Eisen he offers a smile, "Well deserved your excellency."
Ludovic's beautiful, unique, czekan is probably more worrysome than a temperature differential when it comes down to sorcerous tells but he isnt about to let that go, not whilst he is still waging war with a desire to bury an entire castle and everyone in it. "We'll work out how to spot it better." Ludovic tells Myrana. "Then it wont have to happen this way again." He gives her shoulder a squeeze and then steps out of her way. "You really should put that down Myrana."
mercy passes by Agustin and gives him a nod. "The zephyr's call is in port, if you wish to meet me abord Captain, we can talk about the next phase of what needs to be done before I return to give our newest grace the rundown of his troops and ledgers." She says, and looks to Aleira. "You might want to come as well, I may have a favour to ask of you." She says and gives myrana a nod, she knows the woman likes ships, and her ships are the finest in the fleet. Thusly, Mercy makes a bow to their majesties before she turns to head out, with her knights and vassals following as well.
Aleira glances over to Mercy curiously and nods her head. "Very well Your Excellency." She agrees politely. With a respectful curtsey to the royalty she moves to follow Mercy out.
Augustin nods but once to Mercy as she passes and mentions planning. What else is there to do but nod, that and offerly a sailorly tip of his tricorn, "Aye Admiral." That grizzled and gravelly voice barks sharply, and the ancient follow takes his leave. Almost back to sea, the land is not for him.
"And let them take it?" Myrana trembles under Ludovic's hand. Now that the infuriating, confusing, ridiculous flutter of fantalk is outside of her vision, there's not quite so much to distract her. It's almost impossible to hear her, in fact, for her voice dwindles down into it's lower reaches to a smoky, miserable murr. "How can his soul…" Whatever she was about to say chokes off mid-sentance. Blood creeps away from the surface of her skin, and her temperature drops rapidly. But she doesn't put the head down. "N-no. I must see it returned to his House. Will…?" About to ask him to help her take it from there quietly, she stops as she hears Mercy turn her voice towards them. "A-ah? I'm sorry, I wasn't listening." She is clearly shaken again, and losing the anger from earlier.
"Come Myrana, we will see it returned." She says as she places a gentle hand at the small of the woman's back, leading the white haired duchess out f the court. 'Cyndae, fetch a basket, preferably a nice one." She says, so that the head has a place to be put.
"His father will have to petition for it." Ludovic says softly to Myrana. "You can't just walk out of here with it. You know that." Again he drops his voice to a tone appropriate for a friend pointing out something embarassing to another. "and you're making a spectacle of yourself." He looks across to Mercy and says a soft "Thank you Mercy. Are we free to leave yet?" he glances towards the exit. "I need to get home."
Myrana lets out a breath.
"Let them take it from the Wallbreaker's wife," she murmurs. "No-one will stop me." And accepting the basket from Cyndae quiet thanks, she sets the head inside and takes the basket grimly with her, all but daring the Cardinal's Guards at the door to touch her or it as she goes with the others out of Court.
Ludovic gives Myrana a quick smile. "Do you wish for me to carry the rest then your grace?"
Myrana looks back, but the body is being inspected by Viscount D'Geroux. She pauses… then shakes her head, abandoning it. The chains wrapped around it in layers of lightsilver make that impossible, though Ludovic's support has her shoulders easing a little. "Leave it."
Exiting with the duchess, she is soon barking orders to her knights and vassals. "d'Friggi, I shall send Reynard to four corners to steward the businesses we have down there, He will have to go a round about way, with that, I want you in the port once you have your steward in line, you will be running kashmir while I appraise the new duke of the status. Perrini, you will still aid lady Antina with the boarder, she will return to the arcadian border once I arrive in d'Picot. Mercucilone, you will aboslutly keep the trade routes on land moving." She adds as they walks out of the tall gates. "Sir Kory and Sir Myke, recruit anyone who has a love for the sea, and see them trained, the royal navy needs to be rebuilt. I wand one marine for every three sailors. Cyndae, run ahead and let tabbetha know we are comming, and to get my uniform ready, this dress is absured."
Ludovic nods at Myrana's words and then strides out of the building. "I'm going to have to skip dinner i'm afraid Mercy." he tells the group before finally looking at Myrana. "Myrana. Do you remember when we were in the old church talking of our next adventure? I'm going to start it. Meet me there if you want. You know how to make me know its you."
Aleira follows along quietly with Mercy and the others, staying respectfully silent but listening carefully.
"I'll call on you soon," Myrana promises Ludovic, stopping as Mercy begins to give orders to look earnestly up at him. "Ludovic- be careful. And don't forget, you promised to help me with the matter in Four Corners."
Ludovic grimaces at that particular reminder. "I haven't forgotten." he had. "Just, Myra" he pauses, shakes his head and adds "Never mind. I'll be there. Just dont leave it to long."