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HelpRe: Saphiredufeu's Royal Congrats - Round 3
in reply to a message by saphirdufeu
House of Fairfax
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [47]
DW: Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [40]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Arundel [21]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [3]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard [1]
DS: Prince Henry Valerian Ambrose [20]
-DFiancée: Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [17]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [17]
There's a lot more to kinging than just sitting around looking important. Richard's father never mentioned anything about sorting out two nobles both claiming their daughters were promised to wed the same scion, or thinking up ways to stop the bakers' ever-evolving tradition of bread fraud. Every day, it seemed, someone had invented new and exciting ways to make his life difficult.
Of course, it wasn't always terrible all the time. Tilly, now a full-fledged adult and insistent upon being called Matilda, was wiser and less impatient, though still as hard-headed as a crab wearing a tortoise shell for a helmet. She'd gone and married George, as planned, and then she'd quickly realised domestic life involved a lot less witty reparee and a lot more servant management than she'd expected. She and George had two children before very long: Helen, with eyes the colour of storm-clouds and the voice of a nightingale, and Harry, who always tried to touch Richard's crown whenever his grandfather tried to carry him.
They made a happy life for themselves, the four of them. Which was why, when George fell deathly ill, Matilda was inconsolable. She'd spent the entire night sitting at her husband's bedside, distracting him with humorous anecdotes and singing to him, until finally dawn arrived, and George was gone.
In the aftermath, Matilda kept her head high, wearing the public mask of the strong, persisting widow, but Richard could tell, from the shadows under her eyes and the hollows on her cheeks, that she felt her loss deeply. Beatrice offered that she took the children and stay in the royal castle for some time, and Matilda accepted swiftly, eager for something to keep her mind off her grief.
As for the Fairfax brothers, life had been kind to them, if only in the sense that it hadn't been bothering them the way it vexed their father and sister. Hal kept a careful correspondence with his betrothed, Louise, and was always taking an interest in matters of the kingdom, learning and preparing for when he would be king. Rufus, always a scholar first and a prince second, still hung onto his brother's every word, and was Hal's inseparable companion. Beatrice firmly believed this was better compared to resentment, or worse, naked rivalry, but Richard worried that if anything were to befall one of his sons, the other would be subject to the same fate by default.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [47]
DW: Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [40]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Arundel [21]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [3]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard [1]
DS: Prince Henry Valerian Ambrose [20]
-DFiancée: Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [17]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [17]
There's a lot more to kinging than just sitting around looking important. Richard's father never mentioned anything about sorting out two nobles both claiming their daughters were promised to wed the same scion, or thinking up ways to stop the bakers' ever-evolving tradition of bread fraud. Every day, it seemed, someone had invented new and exciting ways to make his life difficult.
Of course, it wasn't always terrible all the time. Tilly, now a full-fledged adult and insistent upon being called Matilda, was wiser and less impatient, though still as hard-headed as a crab wearing a tortoise shell for a helmet. She'd gone and married George, as planned, and then she'd quickly realised domestic life involved a lot less witty reparee and a lot more servant management than she'd expected. She and George had two children before very long: Helen, with eyes the colour of storm-clouds and the voice of a nightingale, and Harry, who always tried to touch Richard's crown whenever his grandfather tried to carry him.
They made a happy life for themselves, the four of them. Which was why, when George fell deathly ill, Matilda was inconsolable. She'd spent the entire night sitting at her husband's bedside, distracting him with humorous anecdotes and singing to him, until finally dawn arrived, and George was gone.
In the aftermath, Matilda kept her head high, wearing the public mask of the strong, persisting widow, but Richard could tell, from the shadows under her eyes and the hollows on her cheeks, that she felt her loss deeply. Beatrice offered that she took the children and stay in the royal castle for some time, and Matilda accepted swiftly, eager for something to keep her mind off her grief.
As for the Fairfax brothers, life had been kind to them, if only in the sense that it hadn't been bothering them the way it vexed their father and sister. Hal kept a careful correspondence with his betrothed, Louise, and was always taking an interest in matters of the kingdom, learning and preparing for when he would be king. Rufus, always a scholar first and a prince second, still hung onto his brother's every word, and was Hal's inseparable companion. Beatrice firmly believed this was better compared to resentment, or worse, naked rivalry, but Richard worried that if anything were to befall one of his sons, the other would be subject to the same fate by default.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
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This message was edited 7/13/2018, 8:12 PM
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You definitely have a sense of humor in your approach to medieval kinging (I'm asking myself what, exactly, "bread fraud" could possibly include). I'm enjoying it!
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Oh, bread fraud?
That, actually, is not my invention.
Basically, bread was regulated in terms of size, ingredients, &c, a sensible standardisation considering how it was a staple food during the era. But bakers, being humans and thus just as prone to trickery in pursuit of gain as everyone else, found ways to cheat the rules. They'd done everything from putting sawdust in the flour, using measuring boards with a hole in them where the dough would fall through and thus make the finished bread smaller, all sorts of crazy stuff.
Incidentally, this is why we have the baker's dozen. Bakers eager to prove themselves honest gave an extra loaf to the dozen, as a gesture of how definitely not-greedy they are.
History, amirite? Sometimes even funnier than what fiction can think up.
That, actually, is not my invention.
Basically, bread was regulated in terms of size, ingredients, &c, a sensible standardisation considering how it was a staple food during the era. But bakers, being humans and thus just as prone to trickery in pursuit of gain as everyone else, found ways to cheat the rules. They'd done everything from putting sawdust in the flour, using measuring boards with a hole in them where the dough would fall through and thus make the finished bread smaller, all sorts of crazy stuff.
Incidentally, this is why we have the baker's dozen. Bakers eager to prove themselves honest gave an extra loaf to the dozen, as a gesture of how definitely not-greedy they are.
History, amirite? Sometimes even funnier than what fiction can think up.
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I just wanted to say that I really really love reading your stories! Your writing is so engaging and it's great fun to read
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Aw, thank you! And I am enjoying your game immensely, likewise, and the opportunity it gives me to get the writing juices flowing again. So thanks for that. *wink*
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