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Help[Games] Re: Saphirdufeu's Royal Congrats - Round 5
in reply to a message by saphirdufeu
House of Fairfax
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [50]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [31]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [13]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [11]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [32]
--DS: Benedict Philip [7]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [30]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [27]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [27]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [25]
--DD: Cecily Honora [3]
--DD: Marion Sabeline [2]
--DS: Adrian Valentine [nb]
They said King Henry seldom laughed, unless you had just made a grave mistake, in which case you're as good as dead. They said he was the bastard son of a raven and a weather-vane: all clad in black, too thin for his own good, and prone to suddenly swivelling round to look at you in one swift motion. They said he served the best wine at his banquets, which was all very well until you wake up the next morning remembering all the witty things you had said and realise that he was there all along, listening.
People said these things, very quietly in most cases. But the funny thing was, if someone were to ask them what, exactly, skinny old Hal had done to wrong them, they'd be er-ing and um-ing for hours.
The thing was, Hal may not be the sweetest cookie in the jar, but he kept the kingdom functional. When a mysterious outbreak swept a village's chickens, he'd bought the carcasses with coin from the Treasury and burnt them all in a pit. When a few ambitious nobles started fidgeting and hiring mercenaries with suspiciously idle schedules, he'd sent his taxmen at them, collecting old unpaid debts and keeping them busy trying to recoup their losses instead of couping him. Even the bread fraudsters lived in fear that Hal would catch them red-handed and give them his ice-cold stare, or worse, employ sarcasm. If trains had been invented, Hal would have made them run on time. He was shrewd, the way King Richard had been, and treated conversation like a chessboard, the way his mother did. What this all bought him was a kingdom which didn't exactly like him, but which knew he was the grease that kept the careful mechanisms all moving smoothly.
Inside his innermost circles, of course, was a different story. Rufus, now head of his own household, no longer shadowed his brother's every step, but he was still intimately involved in the running of the kingdom, especially since he was still--or rather, once more--the heir apparent to the throne. Hal had been a father for all of two and a half hours before blue-faced, prematurely-born Jehan had died. Louise, who'd suffered a couple miscarriages previously, was heartbroken, and worried that, in her apparent inability to provide a heir to the royal bloodline, she might lose her husband's favour. But Hal had been comforting, patient as a rock, and assured her that even if they both died childless, he trusted Rufus to keep the kingdom running. And Rufus, at least, did have a son, which could potentially ease the line of succession should push come to shove. Of course, it would be very expedient if Adrian would grow up to be just as gifted with numbers as his father, but as it stood, he was going to be his sisters' treasure nonetheless.
As for Matilda, she and Antony enjoyed a relatively peaceful existence in Richmond, raising their children all under one roof and assuring them that, no, despite what their nursemaids told them, Uncle Hal will not materialise from a murder of crows if they refuse to do their sums. She'd been anxious about Helen and Harry being unable to accept their new family, but the children adored Antony, and treated young Benedict with the sort of fond jibing siblings were wont to do.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [50]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [31]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [13]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [11]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [32]
--DS: Benedict Philip [7]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [30]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [27]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [27]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [25]
--DD: Cecily Honora [3]
--DD: Marion Sabeline [2]
--DS: Adrian Valentine [nb]
They said King Henry seldom laughed, unless you had just made a grave mistake, in which case you're as good as dead. They said he was the bastard son of a raven and a weather-vane: all clad in black, too thin for his own good, and prone to suddenly swivelling round to look at you in one swift motion. They said he served the best wine at his banquets, which was all very well until you wake up the next morning remembering all the witty things you had said and realise that he was there all along, listening.
People said these things, very quietly in most cases. But the funny thing was, if someone were to ask them what, exactly, skinny old Hal had done to wrong them, they'd be er-ing and um-ing for hours.
The thing was, Hal may not be the sweetest cookie in the jar, but he kept the kingdom functional. When a mysterious outbreak swept a village's chickens, he'd bought the carcasses with coin from the Treasury and burnt them all in a pit. When a few ambitious nobles started fidgeting and hiring mercenaries with suspiciously idle schedules, he'd sent his taxmen at them, collecting old unpaid debts and keeping them busy trying to recoup their losses instead of couping him. Even the bread fraudsters lived in fear that Hal would catch them red-handed and give them his ice-cold stare, or worse, employ sarcasm. If trains had been invented, Hal would have made them run on time. He was shrewd, the way King Richard had been, and treated conversation like a chessboard, the way his mother did. What this all bought him was a kingdom which didn't exactly like him, but which knew he was the grease that kept the careful mechanisms all moving smoothly.
Inside his innermost circles, of course, was a different story. Rufus, now head of his own household, no longer shadowed his brother's every step, but he was still intimately involved in the running of the kingdom, especially since he was still--or rather, once more--the heir apparent to the throne. Hal had been a father for all of two and a half hours before blue-faced, prematurely-born Jehan had died. Louise, who'd suffered a couple miscarriages previously, was heartbroken, and worried that, in her apparent inability to provide a heir to the royal bloodline, she might lose her husband's favour. But Hal had been comforting, patient as a rock, and assured her that even if they both died childless, he trusted Rufus to keep the kingdom running. And Rufus, at least, did have a son, which could potentially ease the line of succession should push come to shove. Of course, it would be very expedient if Adrian would grow up to be just as gifted with numbers as his father, but as it stood, he was going to be his sisters' treasure nonetheless.
As for Matilda, she and Antony enjoyed a relatively peaceful existence in Richmond, raising their children all under one roof and assuring them that, no, despite what their nursemaids told them, Uncle Hal will not materialise from a murder of crows if they refuse to do their sums. She'd been anxious about Helen and Harry being unable to accept their new family, but the children adored Antony, and treated young Benedict with the sort of fond jibing siblings were wont to do.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
This message was edited 7/13/2018, 10:20 PM
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1
Replies
And the pesky bread fraud continues! ;-)
Also, this line made me laugh:
Also, this line made me laugh:
1
*bows*
Your daily (unadulterated, weighed out, all per regulations and rules) bread of comedic Medieval kinging.
Your daily (unadulterated, weighed out, all per regulations and rules) bread of comedic Medieval kinging.
1