Fantasy A Crown Unbefit (Main)

[Coin]

Laurence of Grenspire​

"I could not have?" Laurence recoiled from her touch and formed an incredulous frown. "What in God's name acquits me from having the capacity to murder the chancellor? I have no admission of guilt because I truly did not kill de Chalon, but you disparage me in this way? It wounds me."

The only real guilt Laurence held was his affair with Olivia, and it was a fleeting guilt. Olivia's infuriatingly provocative commentary made certain of that. The two had started their affair as a hazy one-time encounter during an incredibly drab voting season at the capital, but subsequent visits to Du-Catal turned interim into habit. It was mutually beneficial -- somehow. She gave him a viable chance for an heir that his current wife could not, and she was able to stroke her hedonistic ego. A jewel or jug of imported wine every so often didn't hurt either.

Perhaps it was for the best they were not wed.

Laurence was the first to climb out of bed and get dressed while Olivia lounged. He had plenty to do today, and the coming weeks would only be even more political. It was only a matter of time before the remaining regency would summon the tribunal, Laurence included, to replace the late chancellor. Laurence could personally care less who would replace de Chalon, but he was going to make certain he was going to get the most out of his vote. Grenspire needed the gold, and Laurence was more than warming to bribes.

Once he had all of his things, Laurence creaked open the door to their room and scanned the hallway. Once he was satisfied that nobody would see his departure, he turned back to Olivia, "The servants aren't here yet. I'm leaving for Mass. Please do your best to avoid my wife and I -- if you go at all."

Poe

 

[local cryptid]

Alastair Atwald
The Court in front of the Cathedral
​

Alastair wasn't one for organized religion, but he visited the cathedral before mass, so as to appear like he was making an effort to live a wholesome lifestyle. He was well aware of how most people frowned upon him for having Kiva in his life, but he had faith in the few who realized that she was still his daughter whom he loved. If he had abandoned her, she likely would have died a long time ago. There weren't many who could afford the treatment he got for her.

He had left Kiva with one of the nannies. He made a point to linger and speak to one of the holy people who worked at the cathedral before mass officially started and he left shortly after, feeling slightly irritated with the interaction.

He moved past the people trickling inside, relieved that none of them appeared to know who he is beyond the fact that he is obviously wealthy. His hair was clean and long, and his clothes were custom tailored in fine, and soft fabrics. He took a seat at a bench in the shade of a tree. His height and hair made it easy to recognize from afar. He sat there, patient, quietly going over the plans that were beginning to stir in his head.

Though he appeared to be just enjoying the warm morning, his thoughts rested with his people in Tyvenna. He had the option of trying to take the spot as Chancellor, and ensure that his people would stay safe, but he also realized that doing such would likely jeopardize his life, and hence Kiva's. Yet he needed to ensure that his people would be protected from Dusilia, and somehow he doubted there were many left who wanted peace.

 

[Poe]

Olivia rolled her eyes at the quickness with which Laurence dressed and readied himself to lead. She brought up a hand to lazily toss the curls cascading down back over her shoulders, leaving them bare in the early morning light. There was something tragically boring about the moment Laurence pulled his attention back with a startling snap and she found herself more than ready to excuse herself. “There is no need to worry,” Oliva hummed, “I certainly had no intentions of going to Mass and I have no reason to pester you and your wife. After all, she quite obviously does an impeccable job of holding your attention.”

Her words were knowing and equally sharp. Quick as a whip, they stung and then ebbed. It was silly to her the way that Laurence seemed to look down on her, though he was the one who made the decision to crawl into her bed time and time again. Unperturbed by the entire encounter, Olivia pushed herself up slowly from the warmth of the bed. She was otherwise occupied that morning, a meeting with Frederick’s niece Eleanor, and that proved to be far more intriguing company. It was not for some time, but Olivia did enjoy a stroll about Du-Catal in the morning light. There was something unmistakably charming about the city, something that often brought Olivia back without complaint despite the long and arduous journey inland.

Once Laurence had excused himself, she sat for a good while readying herself for the morning. Every inch of her was cared for with impeccable detail, not a single hair out of place, nor a thread unaccounted for. She thought of Laurence’s words earlier, each one buzzing in her mind incessantly. So he did not murder the chancellor, then. While she had quietly denied his ability, to hear his outburst only solidified her suspicions. The day would come when Laurence would make his move, but she knew that with a few well-placed quips and a place in his bed, she would know. It left quite a large pool of possible suspects, but it brought a smirk to Olivia’s lips to know that herself and Laurence were both out of the running.

Olivia finally made her way out of the room and out into the morning air. It was warm, welcoming and she made her way into the heart of the city. She noticed the bustle outside the cathedral, but kept her eyes forward as she walked on a few paces from the gathering of likeminded holy people. Olivia was not against the church in any way, but she had never found comfort in it the way others had, so she kept her distance.

 

[local cryptid]

Alastair Atwald
The Court in front of the Cathedral
​

Alastair's attention was momentarily swayed as he saw a beautiful and familiar figure approach. He turned his head the other way, minding his eyes, but recalling her attractive figure well. Most people were sincerely attractive to him in one way or another, however there were certain characteristics and compsoures about a person that made them more appealing than others.

He especially appreciated liberated and dominate women, ones who were a challenge, and not just those who would roll onto their backs and giggle when they were expected to. What was her name, Oliva? If he remembered correctly, she was quite involved with all sorts of important names. Even if she didn't provide any use to her, at least she could potentially entertain him.

"Lady Marvell, is it?" he greeted after she walked just past his bench, "I believe I saw you yesterday at the service."


Poe

 

[Chordling]

Lillian Riddle
Duchess of Mivencross​

"Does it ever bother you?" her sister asked.

"What?" Lillian was completely oblivious as to what Meredith had been referring to.

"Him.".

She thought for another second that perhaps her sister's mind was still occupied about the death of the chancellor. The funeral had drained a significant amount more of Meredith's energy than it did Lillian's. Despite the sunken look in her younger sister's eyes, it was not the person whom she spoke of. Mass had ended just moments ago and the Duke of Grenspire was just pillars away. Lillian had not acknowledged his presence during the entire ceremony once but it seemed that Meredith had struggled to stop staring. Seeing Laurence did make Lillian's guts churn a little. The reason was rather uncomfortable, to no fault of their own. It was a rather complicated story, and unfortunately, one that involved her uncle. She had requested to meet with the king's advisor sometime in the evening on the night of the funeral. It was part of the business matter she wanted to propose.

Lillian turned her head to address her sister, but by the time she opened her mouth to speak, Meredith was no longer by her side. It was only a moment later when she realized that Meredith was approaching the Duke. Before total disaster could strike, Lillian pulled at her sister's arm, and dragged her bag, far, far, away from Laurence.

Did you say anything?" Lillian scowled. Meredith never liked it when her older sister looked at her that way, and fervently shook her head, hoping she would stop.

"No, Lillian, I swear. I don't know what I was thinking, I'm sorry-"

Lillian shushed her sister and held her hands. She never enjoyed being harsh with her sister, either, but there were times where she needed to be. Whether she knew it or not, Meredith held valuable information, and if anyone let her talk for too long, who knows what might happen to the Mivencross Duchy.