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HelpRe: Saphirdufeu's Royal Congrats - Round 4
in reply to a message by saphirdufeu
House of Fairfax
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [45]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [26]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [8]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Count of Arudnel [6]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [27]
--DS: Benedict Philip [2]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [25]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [22]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [22]
-DFiancée: Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [20]
War.
Someone, possibly one of Hal's childhood tutors, once said that war is unchanging. People fight over different things, with different weapons and different strategies, but at the bottom of it, war, war never changes. It doesn't matter if it was fought between mortal enemies or former brothers-in-arms, if it was over opposing fundamental beliefs or because some noble gave you a bagful of coins to go hurl stones at the neighbour's castle. In the end, all war ever accomplished was death.
And death, thought Hal, doesn't discriminate.
The people claimed they wanted change, and he knew they did need it. The harvest had failed two years in a row, and then a quarter of the capital was devoured by flames. The phrase "lean times" had been coined for exactly this sort of situation. The people were hungry, cold, diseased, and desperate. And his father had expected they would revolt--was practically waiting for it to happen. Then, when it did happen, he'd rode out to make a speech, calm the masses.
Nobody knew who started the riot. But everybody knew that when the dust settled and the blood dried on the flagstones, King Richard was dead.
The coronation was done that very night. No sense letting the swaying wave of uncertainty sweep any further; no sense in leaving a nation decapitated. His father's crown sat loosely on his gaunt forehead, permanently one nudge away from slipping over his eyes. His mother, head covered with a black veil, maintained resolute conversation with Matilda even as her voice shook. Rufus, eyes red-rimmed and darting across the room anxiously, stood at his side with one hand always at the hilt of his sword. They plan for the future in hushed tones. A wedding date hastened. A funeral prepared. A nation abruptly left in the lap of its unprepared steward.
And amongst his subjects, well, not a lot of people could say they trusted Hal. The prince had always been somewhat aloof, a dark-clad presence sweeping from one place to another with as much pomp and ceremony as a speck of dust falling in a crypt, and he was notoriously just as cynical as King Richard was before him. They awaited his reign nervously, looking to see how young Henry would conduct his kingdom.
I have just realised that I accidentally did the opposite of what history dictates, here: 1189, a year after the current in-game time, should be when a King Henry is replaced by a King Richard. But, ah, we got things a tad backwards, here. Quite amusing.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [45]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [26]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [8]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Count of Arudnel [6]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [27]
--DS: Benedict Philip [2]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [25]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [22]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [22]
-DFiancée: Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [20]
War.
Someone, possibly one of Hal's childhood tutors, once said that war is unchanging. People fight over different things, with different weapons and different strategies, but at the bottom of it, war, war never changes. It doesn't matter if it was fought between mortal enemies or former brothers-in-arms, if it was over opposing fundamental beliefs or because some noble gave you a bagful of coins to go hurl stones at the neighbour's castle. In the end, all war ever accomplished was death.
And death, thought Hal, doesn't discriminate.
The people claimed they wanted change, and he knew they did need it. The harvest had failed two years in a row, and then a quarter of the capital was devoured by flames. The phrase "lean times" had been coined for exactly this sort of situation. The people were hungry, cold, diseased, and desperate. And his father had expected they would revolt--was practically waiting for it to happen. Then, when it did happen, he'd rode out to make a speech, calm the masses.
Nobody knew who started the riot. But everybody knew that when the dust settled and the blood dried on the flagstones, King Richard was dead.
The coronation was done that very night. No sense letting the swaying wave of uncertainty sweep any further; no sense in leaving a nation decapitated. His father's crown sat loosely on his gaunt forehead, permanently one nudge away from slipping over his eyes. His mother, head covered with a black veil, maintained resolute conversation with Matilda even as her voice shook. Rufus, eyes red-rimmed and darting across the room anxiously, stood at his side with one hand always at the hilt of his sword. They plan for the future in hushed tones. A wedding date hastened. A funeral prepared. A nation abruptly left in the lap of its unprepared steward.
And amongst his subjects, well, not a lot of people could say they trusted Hal. The prince had always been somewhat aloof, a dark-clad presence sweeping from one place to another with as much pomp and ceremony as a speck of dust falling in a crypt, and he was notoriously just as cynical as King Richard was before him. They awaited his reign nervously, looking to see how young Henry would conduct his kingdom.
I have just realised that I accidentally did the opposite of what history dictates, here: 1189, a year after the current in-game time, should be when a King Henry is replaced by a King Richard. But, ah, we got things a tad backwards, here. Quite amusing.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
This message was edited 7/12/2018, 7:59 AM
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