-
This section is for roleplays only.
ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.
Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.
Fantasy Because it is my Duty
- Thread starter CJWrites
- Start date
CJWrites
Elder Member
Both countries had grown weary of this war. Everyone had lost someone in the war. A war which had ground to a stalemate and countless lives lost for gains which were taken back within days. Half the country wanted to end it before an entire generation of young men and women were wiped out. The other half were out for revenge
At home in the Capital, Anya was eagerly awaiting the news of the signing of the peace treaty. She had a vacant look in her eyes as she stared out onto the path from which
Someone lay a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she jumped back only to see her aunt looking at her. Concerned.
"Hey, are you alright? You've been glued to that window for hours."
Anya shifted nervously on her feet "No. I'm not. You know why. I don't want to go live in a foreign country, marry a monster and leave all my friends and family behind."
Analise drew her nice in for a hug "Shhh.... Hey. Your mother would never put you in any danger. We don't know what this peace treaty will entail. Everything will turn out fine"
A marriage was the only way to link the two countries which had a potential for long lasting peace. The Asters had one child, a boy, and the Aballacs only had one daughter. Anya knew that by now, fate had already been sealed with a signature and a handshake at the border.
In the end, all gains in land were cancelled out. Borders were redrawn so ethnically Prydainian areas and Polarian now belonged to the correct countries. Both monarchs would go home and proclaim to their populace their triumph. Polarix about how they had conquered mighty nations and established themselves as a force to be reckoned with. Prydain would boast of how they stopped the mighty Polarian war machine. Some might believe it but the whole affair left a bitter taste in almost everyone's mouth.
Prince Robrecht paced in front of the tent, also anticipating the result of the negotiations. "How dare she." He ranted to his manservant, "How dare my mother drag me all the way out here and not let me in. I should be in there instead of that ignorant, weak-willed-"
Morgan stepped out of the tent and her son immediately shut up. Her bodice clutched her bosom like the armour she would normally wear on the battlefield. Despite being petite with feminine features, she exuded strength and confidence. Since magic was discovered and women were found to be slightly more adept at it, women had gained more and more rights but were still often seen as delicate, promiscuous and overly emotional. She had to act masculine in order to be trusted with the kingdom, a far departure from her days as a sorceress. "Your brother is the heir and it would do you well to show more respect"
Drayden followed on the heels of his queen, shooting a sympathetic glance at his brother but it no doubt came across as a condescending glare.
Rob ran towards one of the other men stepping out of the tent. His uncle and General in the army, Alphonse. "Well?"
The general shook his head. "I'd hoped we'd gain more for the lives lost in the war but the endgame was a zero sum."
Robrecht's expression fell, but as he looked over, the Polarian delegation were also shaking their head in the same way. It seemed nobody was happy with this deal.
At home in the Capital, Anya was eagerly awaiting the news of the signing of the peace treaty. She had a vacant look in her eyes as she stared out onto the path from which
Someone lay a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she jumped back only to see her aunt looking at her. Concerned.
"Hey, are you alright? You've been glued to that window for hours."
Anya shifted nervously on her feet "No. I'm not. You know why. I don't want to go live in a foreign country, marry a monster and leave all my friends and family behind."
Analise drew her nice in for a hug "Shhh.... Hey. Your mother would never put you in any danger. We don't know what this peace treaty will entail. Everything will turn out fine"
A marriage was the only way to link the two countries which had a potential for long lasting peace. The Asters had one child, a boy, and the Aballacs only had one daughter. Anya knew that by now, fate had already been sealed with a signature and a handshake at the border.
In the end, all gains in land were cancelled out. Borders were redrawn so ethnically Prydainian areas and Polarian now belonged to the correct countries. Both monarchs would go home and proclaim to their populace their triumph. Polarix about how they had conquered mighty nations and established themselves as a force to be reckoned with. Prydain would boast of how they stopped the mighty Polarian war machine. Some might believe it but the whole affair left a bitter taste in almost everyone's mouth.
Prince Robrecht paced in front of the tent, also anticipating the result of the negotiations. "How dare she." He ranted to his manservant, "How dare my mother drag me all the way out here and not let me in. I should be in there instead of that ignorant, weak-willed-"
Morgan stepped out of the tent and her son immediately shut up. Her bodice clutched her bosom like the armour she would normally wear on the battlefield. Despite being petite with feminine features, she exuded strength and confidence. Since magic was discovered and women were found to be slightly more adept at it, women had gained more and more rights but were still often seen as delicate, promiscuous and overly emotional. She had to act masculine in order to be trusted with the kingdom, a far departure from her days as a sorceress. "Your brother is the heir and it would do you well to show more respect"
Drayden followed on the heels of his queen, shooting a sympathetic glance at his brother but it no doubt came across as a condescending glare.
Rob ran towards one of the other men stepping out of the tent. His uncle and General in the army, Alphonse. "Well?"
The general shook his head. "I'd hoped we'd gain more for the lives lost in the war but the endgame was a zero sum."
Robrecht's expression fell, but as he looked over, the Polarian delegation were also shaking their head in the same way. It seemed nobody was happy with this deal.
Last edited by a moderator:
epsi10n
New Member
Never did Cyrus think he’d see the banners of Polarix and Prydain on the same field without the screams of slaughter for accompaniment.
He’d wondered, of course, and speculated. He’d even fully intended to work to stop the war as a long-term strategy – all while ensuring the safety of himself and his country, of course. But not once did he expect to see the peace treaty signed within his own lifetime. Cyrus knew that many of the soldiers had been disappointed by the arrangement - since it involved giving back land, but Cyrus was privately quite pleased with the state of things.
‘So, we are to be allies now…’ Words had it that the previous king of Prydain, Queen Morgan’s late husband, had been a great supporter of peace as well. It was a shame that he was killed before something could be negotiated. Cyrus didn’t know the full details, but he was confident that his father didn’t order the assassination. Cadmus Aster was a practical man. It was clearly not in Polarix’s interest to continue waging war with Prydain when this back and forth shifting of borders offered zero gain. Polarix had wanted control of the peninsula’s trading fleets and a foothold in the continent, and now it had that. Cyrus could foresee no reason to expand for another thousand years or so.
Sometimes Cyrus wondered who did kill Prydain’s king. But that was a mystery for another day.
Returning to his tent, Cyrus was somehow not very surprised to find that Horatius and Helena had made themselves at home in it. Or, at least, Helena did – having sprawled herself out comfortably on his rug. Horatius was awkwardly standing to the side. “Sorry for the intrusion Cyrus, but she insisted that we wait for you here, and the guards know we’re friends so they just let us in…”
“Ah, Helena!” Cyrus tsked, “What did your mother teach you about entering somebody else’s bedroom uninvited?” Oh wait. He was talking to Helena. “Nevermind! Don’t answer that.”
“That there’s no such thing as uninvited,” Helena pipped up cheerily regardless, “especially if they’re male and you come half-dressed in a –“
“Anyways,” Said Horatius, “how did it go?”
Cyrus cast a privacy ward and plopped down on his bunk. “Mmh, war with Prydain’s over. It’s now safe for a common traveller to cross the border, more or less. The armies are to be relocated – gradually, mind - and our two countries are to attempt to build a relationship from here. Nobody’s completely happy, but nobody’s protesting violently either. It’s enough to work with, I think.”
“I don’t think the soldiers care all that much,” Horatius finally took a seat by Cyrus’s desk, “Last we saw them, most of them were in the back of the camp drinking ale and harassing the bard.”
There was a very small note of hesitation at the end of that sentence, but Cyrus caught it. A sculpted eyebrow went up. “Is there something I should know about the bard?”
Horatius sighed. “Well, not exactly, but it’s just that… the bard’s been telling this story about a fictional Prince of “Denmark”, who’s more of a scholar than a warrior. And he tries to avenge his father but never gets around to doing it, and ends up pretending to be mad for most of the story. And when he actually manages to kill his father’s murderer he gets killed in the process as well. And when he dies he actually bequests the throne to the warrior prince of a neighbouring country that’s about to invade. The soldiers are having a good laugh over it.”
Cyrus frowned. “That story must stop. A story about revenge has no place at a peace negotiation. It might be offensive to the other side.” Not that Prydain would be likely to hear about it. But why take unnecessary risks?
“Em, actually…" Horatius flushed red, "He named the prince’s best friend Horatio, Cyrus. I think the story might be referring to you.”
“Ah, I didn’t realize you were so famous, Horatius! Congratulations!”
“This “prince of Denmark”, I don’t think he’s like Cyrus at all.” Helena snorted, finally sitting up.
“So you’ve been telling me for the last twenty minutes while Cyrus was out,” Horatius muttered.
Helena ignored him. “Well, this prince tries to be sly, but he isn’t very good at it is he? I mean, pretending to be mad to get his uncle’s guard down? I think Cyrus in his place would skip the witty insults at the uncle and just act like everyone else. Pretend everything is perfectly normal. And at the same time, get his spies to dig up all the proof he wants.”
“The prince of Denmark didn’t have spies, Helena…”
“Well Cyrus would, wouldn’t you Cyrus?”
Cyrus snorted. “Intriguing, Helena. Do go on.”
“Anyways, I think once Cyrus knows for sure that the uncle is the murderer, he would have poison poured in his ear to drive him mad, and then ship him off to sea to be killed off quietly. And then take the throne as the rightful next-in-line.”
“No,” Horatius shook his head piously, “Cyrus would decide that revenge isn’t worth it. He wouldn't have gotten into that mess in the first place.”
“Well, I do try,” said Cyrus airily, “Nice to know that you two are so entertained by a story that’s supposedly made to mock me. Now that we’ve finished our very insightful analysis of my personality, would you like to hear an interesting bit of news?”
This got both of their attention instantly.
“You can expect a big wedding on Crystal Peak in a few months. One fit for two nations, in fact.”
“Cyrus! You're getting married?”
The prince of Polarix shrugged. “Queen Morgan wants to put someone in Polarix to influence me and my currently non-existent heir. So, as of today, I’m officially engaged to the beautiful Princess Anya of Prydain.”
From what he’d heard of his fiancée – his information network didn’t entirely end at the borders of Polarix, after all – Princess Anya was a girl two years his junior, with a “lively”, “animated” and “willful” disposition. She was fairly well-liked, and was known for the silver, “ghostlike” familiars that could often be seen accompanying her. A form of alchemy, he’d suspect.
‘Well, can’t say I didn’t see this marriage coming,’ Cyrus listened only half-heartedly as Horatius began reprimanding Helena for making a particularly crude joke. He supposed he’d meet this Princess Anya soon enough.
He’d wondered, of course, and speculated. He’d even fully intended to work to stop the war as a long-term strategy – all while ensuring the safety of himself and his country, of course. But not once did he expect to see the peace treaty signed within his own lifetime. Cyrus knew that many of the soldiers had been disappointed by the arrangement - since it involved giving back land, but Cyrus was privately quite pleased with the state of things.
‘So, we are to be allies now…’ Words had it that the previous king of Prydain, Queen Morgan’s late husband, had been a great supporter of peace as well. It was a shame that he was killed before something could be negotiated. Cyrus didn’t know the full details, but he was confident that his father didn’t order the assassination. Cadmus Aster was a practical man. It was clearly not in Polarix’s interest to continue waging war with Prydain when this back and forth shifting of borders offered zero gain. Polarix had wanted control of the peninsula’s trading fleets and a foothold in the continent, and now it had that. Cyrus could foresee no reason to expand for another thousand years or so.
Sometimes Cyrus wondered who did kill Prydain’s king. But that was a mystery for another day.
Returning to his tent, Cyrus was somehow not very surprised to find that Horatius and Helena had made themselves at home in it. Or, at least, Helena did – having sprawled herself out comfortably on his rug. Horatius was awkwardly standing to the side. “Sorry for the intrusion Cyrus, but she insisted that we wait for you here, and the guards know we’re friends so they just let us in…”
“Ah, Helena!” Cyrus tsked, “What did your mother teach you about entering somebody else’s bedroom uninvited?” Oh wait. He was talking to Helena. “Nevermind! Don’t answer that.”
“That there’s no such thing as uninvited,” Helena pipped up cheerily regardless, “especially if they’re male and you come half-dressed in a –“
“Anyways,” Said Horatius, “how did it go?”
Cyrus cast a privacy ward and plopped down on his bunk. “Mmh, war with Prydain’s over. It’s now safe for a common traveller to cross the border, more or less. The armies are to be relocated – gradually, mind - and our two countries are to attempt to build a relationship from here. Nobody’s completely happy, but nobody’s protesting violently either. It’s enough to work with, I think.”
“I don’t think the soldiers care all that much,” Horatius finally took a seat by Cyrus’s desk, “Last we saw them, most of them were in the back of the camp drinking ale and harassing the bard.”
There was a very small note of hesitation at the end of that sentence, but Cyrus caught it. A sculpted eyebrow went up. “Is there something I should know about the bard?”
Horatius sighed. “Well, not exactly, but it’s just that… the bard’s been telling this story about a fictional Prince of “Denmark”, who’s more of a scholar than a warrior. And he tries to avenge his father but never gets around to doing it, and ends up pretending to be mad for most of the story. And when he actually manages to kill his father’s murderer he gets killed in the process as well. And when he dies he actually bequests the throne to the warrior prince of a neighbouring country that’s about to invade. The soldiers are having a good laugh over it.”
Cyrus frowned. “That story must stop. A story about revenge has no place at a peace negotiation. It might be offensive to the other side.” Not that Prydain would be likely to hear about it. But why take unnecessary risks?
“Em, actually…" Horatius flushed red, "He named the prince’s best friend Horatio, Cyrus. I think the story might be referring to you.”
“Ah, I didn’t realize you were so famous, Horatius! Congratulations!”
“This “prince of Denmark”, I don’t think he’s like Cyrus at all.” Helena snorted, finally sitting up.
“So you’ve been telling me for the last twenty minutes while Cyrus was out,” Horatius muttered.
Helena ignored him. “Well, this prince tries to be sly, but he isn’t very good at it is he? I mean, pretending to be mad to get his uncle’s guard down? I think Cyrus in his place would skip the witty insults at the uncle and just act like everyone else. Pretend everything is perfectly normal. And at the same time, get his spies to dig up all the proof he wants.”
“The prince of Denmark didn’t have spies, Helena…”
“Well Cyrus would, wouldn’t you Cyrus?”
Cyrus snorted. “Intriguing, Helena. Do go on.”
“Anyways, I think once Cyrus knows for sure that the uncle is the murderer, he would have poison poured in his ear to drive him mad, and then ship him off to sea to be killed off quietly. And then take the throne as the rightful next-in-line.”
“No,” Horatius shook his head piously, “Cyrus would decide that revenge isn’t worth it. He wouldn't have gotten into that mess in the first place.”
“Well, I do try,” said Cyrus airily, “Nice to know that you two are so entertained by a story that’s supposedly made to mock me. Now that we’ve finished our very insightful analysis of my personality, would you like to hear an interesting bit of news?”
This got both of their attention instantly.
“You can expect a big wedding on Crystal Peak in a few months. One fit for two nations, in fact.”
“Cyrus! You're getting married?”
The prince of Polarix shrugged. “Queen Morgan wants to put someone in Polarix to influence me and my currently non-existent heir. So, as of today, I’m officially engaged to the beautiful Princess Anya of Prydain.”
From what he’d heard of his fiancée – his information network didn’t entirely end at the borders of Polarix, after all – Princess Anya was a girl two years his junior, with a “lively”, “animated” and “willful” disposition. She was fairly well-liked, and was known for the silver, “ghostlike” familiars that could often be seen accompanying her. A form of alchemy, he’d suspect.
‘Well, can’t say I didn’t see this marriage coming,’ Cyrus listened only half-heartedly as Horatius began reprimanding Helena for making a particularly crude joke. He supposed he’d meet this Princess Anya soon enough.
Last edited:
CJWrites
Elder Member
Anya finally saw the caravan arrive she bounded down the stairs and towards the gates just as the royal party was coming through. She stood there, stilled and braced for her fate. It was Drayden who stepped out first and the pitiful glance he immediately shot Anya said it all. She stood there, stunned, for a while, then ran off.
Morgan stepped out of her carriage, to see Anya turn and run back to her room and followed her. She knocked on the door but opened it without a reply. There she saw Anya face burried in her pillow.
"Look, your father and I turned out fine and it was an arranged marriage."
"Yeah well you married your childhood friend, not a murderous psychopath."
Morgan bit her lip. After all, this is what she had been telling all her citizens for over a decade. She crossed the threshold and sat down on the King sized bed, stroking her daughter's silver hair.
"Everything will be alright. I would not have made this decision if I were not certain it would ensure the safety of you, our family, and this nation."
"Go away." Anya haphazardly threw a direction in the direction of her mother, who caught it midair.
"Anya..."
"I said, GO AWAY!" Anya plucked two and two shimmering wire constructs of birds appeared in her hand. They lunged and shot white bolts of energy at her.
Morgan quickly threw up a shield, even knowing that the energy bolts wouldn't do much more than sting. Usually, the Queen would not have let such insolence slide but she understood Anya's position. She remembered well the tantrums she threw. Instead she scowled and quitetly left her only daughter to come to terms with this momentus turn in her life on her own.
--
As the days passed, the initial shock and emotion wore off and the nervous anticipation started to set in. Still, as she watched the rolling country side, Anya would never be satisfied with this match.
"Why do I have to get married. Why can't we marry you off?" She whined.
"Because King Cadmus is already married." She spoke his name with distain but it was softer. After years of blinded rage and clashing of swords, she could appreciate his skill for political discourse and his way with words.
Anya frowned but her mother continued.
"You've known this was going to happen all your life. Now hush child, we're here."
The carriage ground to a halt and the door opened.
"Presenting to you, the Prydian Royal Family, Queen Morgan Aballac of Prydain."
Morgan glared at her children before heading out of the carriage.
"Presenting, Crown Prince Drayden and Price Robrecht Abbalac of Prydain"
"Anya, look. We're not going to let anything happen to you." Robrecht said, taking his sister's hand. He glared at Drayden as if daring him to disagree. "As soon as that jerk lays his hand on you, we will be there."
"Promise" Drayden agreed. They stepped out, leaving Anya alone.
Anya smothed the wrinkles of one of her most beautiful dresses. It was lilac with white lace and gold trimmings. Unlike her mother who kept her hair down during affairs of the state and up during battle, her long hair symbolized her power and was tied into a neat bun. Still, two long locks of hair fell to their usual place at her hips.
"Presenting the Bride, Princess Anya Aballac of Prydain."
She sighed as she took her brothers's hands and decended from the carriage. Her heart clenched even as cheers erupted and confetti was launched stepping out of the carriage felt more like going to a funeral rather than meeting her future husband.
Morgan stepped out of her carriage, to see Anya turn and run back to her room and followed her. She knocked on the door but opened it without a reply. There she saw Anya face burried in her pillow.
"Look, your father and I turned out fine and it was an arranged marriage."
"Yeah well you married your childhood friend, not a murderous psychopath."
Morgan bit her lip. After all, this is what she had been telling all her citizens for over a decade. She crossed the threshold and sat down on the King sized bed, stroking her daughter's silver hair.
"Everything will be alright. I would not have made this decision if I were not certain it would ensure the safety of you, our family, and this nation."
"Go away." Anya haphazardly threw a direction in the direction of her mother, who caught it midair.
"Anya..."
"I said, GO AWAY!" Anya plucked two and two shimmering wire constructs of birds appeared in her hand. They lunged and shot white bolts of energy at her.
Morgan quickly threw up a shield, even knowing that the energy bolts wouldn't do much more than sting. Usually, the Queen would not have let such insolence slide but she understood Anya's position. She remembered well the tantrums she threw. Instead she scowled and quitetly left her only daughter to come to terms with this momentus turn in her life on her own.
--
As the days passed, the initial shock and emotion wore off and the nervous anticipation started to set in. Still, as she watched the rolling country side, Anya would never be satisfied with this match.
"Why do I have to get married. Why can't we marry you off?" She whined.
"Because King Cadmus is already married." She spoke his name with distain but it was softer. After years of blinded rage and clashing of swords, she could appreciate his skill for political discourse and his way with words.
Anya frowned but her mother continued.
"You've known this was going to happen all your life. Now hush child, we're here."
The carriage ground to a halt and the door opened.
"Presenting to you, the Prydian Royal Family, Queen Morgan Aballac of Prydain."
Morgan glared at her children before heading out of the carriage.
"Presenting, Crown Prince Drayden and Price Robrecht Abbalac of Prydain"
"Anya, look. We're not going to let anything happen to you." Robrecht said, taking his sister's hand. He glared at Drayden as if daring him to disagree. "As soon as that jerk lays his hand on you, we will be there."
"Promise" Drayden agreed. They stepped out, leaving Anya alone.
Anya smothed the wrinkles of one of her most beautiful dresses. It was lilac with white lace and gold trimmings. Unlike her mother who kept her hair down during affairs of the state and up during battle, her long hair symbolized her power and was tied into a neat bun. Still, two long locks of hair fell to their usual place at her hips.
"Presenting the Bride, Princess Anya Aballac of Prydain."
She sighed as she took her brothers's hands and decended from the carriage. Her heart clenched even as cheers erupted and confetti was launched stepping out of the carriage felt more like going to a funeral rather than meeting her future husband.
epsi10n
New Member
From the south tower of the city wall, Cyrus watched the progress of Prydain’s caravan along the meandering road. Last he checked, they were still a spot of bright blue among the lush green of the fields. Soon they’d see the vegetation fall away to be replaced by the bare white rocks that jutted out of the black soil like an exposed spine.
For most of the delegates, this would be their first view of Crystal Peak.
Queen Morgan was supposedly bringing what appears to be the whole royal family, with the exception of Princess Analise. Those who had departed in that caravan included Princess Anya – obviously, Prince Robrecht – who everyone had believed to be the crown prince, and Prince Drayden. Even Prince Cortino may or may not be accompanying. Prydain’s entourage would also include General Alphonse, who was the primary leader of their highly efficient army. Which made sense – the General was related to the late King Matthew, after all, and Cyrus could understand that security would be a big consideration.
Then, there was reliable information that Arthur Aurelianus, Prydain’s advisor and dark-mage-in-residence, was in the caravan as well. Cyrus had found this somewhat suspect, and had privately expressed his concern regarding what Queen Morgan wanted him to do here. But father had assured him that Aurelianus had been brought to important meetings often enough for his presence to be normal. Meanwhile, mother reminded that Prydain had much better tools than he for “the sort of tasks you’re probably thinking of”. Which, Cyrus supposed, was fair enough.
The blue carriages were veering left now, and soon they would not be visible from this tower as they circle around the mountain to begin their ascend. Cyrus turned his attention instead to the colourful crowd gathered in the city square.
His father, never one to take interest in celebrations, had delegated the reception’s organization to Cyrus with a “it’s your wedding, so you should do your own chores”. Cyrus had in turn started a recruitment campaign for some of the best performers in the country – musicians, dancers, conjurers, any aspect of culture that Polarix would want to present, in short. They were among the people assembled below, ready to celebrate Prydain’s arrival. Many would be staying until the wedding itself too, he presumed, though they would not all be on his payroll between now and then.
A few others among the crowd were merchants. Though the majority of the stalls and booths that usually occupied the square at this hour had been cleared out for the occasion, a carefully selected handful had been allowed to remain (and weren’t they ecstatic to receive that news!). Cyrus had especially wanted to display some of Polarix’s produce and oversea imports. It seemed perhaps an unlikely consideration just after a war, but Prydain could be valuable as a trading partner, eventually.
There was to be no display of the Polarian military today – the war had done enough of that. Instead, only fifty soldiers from the battalion that answered directly to Cyrus were stationed in the square to police the spectators. The majority of his remaining soldiers had joined the guards in the city walls for the day, out of sight but ready to answer in case of serious trouble.
Cyrus watched as the first of Prydain’s entourage began to disappear behind the mountain, and sent words to his mother and father to get ready. It would be about an hour before the caravan would circle back to the front once more, and then it would be time to welcome their guests.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“… and with their arrival, we are hopeful for a new era of cooperation and mutual prosperity.” King Cadmus finished his speech for the gathered people of Polarix. It was one that encouraged them to love Prydain, with some carefully allocated wiggle room as always. The crowd had started to cheer just as Prydain’s caravan rolled into the square. Excellent timing.
Well aware of his father’s almost unfailing tendency to wear black, Cyrus had deliberately dressed himself in the lightest coloured formal outfit that he owned: A conservative asymmetrical grey tunic with a standing collar of etched silver. On occasions it had been beneficial to highlight the close resemblance of his face to his father’s (“In everything but your eyes,” Cadmus would say), but today was perhaps not one of them.
The door of the carriages opened one by one, and Cyrus tried his best to pick out Prydain’s important officers by the descriptions he’d received. The general he recognized from the signing of the treatise, and he thought he saw a cloaked figure coming out of the second-carriage that could be Aurelianus. A manservant ran up to the head carriage, clearly meant to be the announcer.
Finally, the door of the first carriage swung open as well.
“Presenting, Queen Morgan Aballac of Prydain!”
The Queen of Prydain looked resplendent as ever in a light blue gown. Her long hair artfully framed her face and her hard, steely eyes. Those same eyes first found his father and mother, who both bowed graciously and said some words of welcome. Then they swept over to Cyrus, fixing him with a gaze so penetrating that she might very well be attempting to dissect him with her eyes. Cyrus wondered how much or how little she’d learned about himself thus far.
“Presenting, Crown Prince Drayden and Prince Robrecht Aballac of Prydain!”
Cyrus surveyed the two Princes curiously as they stepped out of the carriage. The Asters had dedicated quite a bit of effort to building a dossier on Robrecht, believing him to be the future King of Prydain. Not bad material for a ruler, Cadmus had commented once.
But as they found out just under three years ago, Prince Robrecht was not the crown prince. Prince Drayden was, and Cyrus knew pitiably little about him. After all, it had taken two months for the crown prince’s reappearance to reach Crystal Peak, and then the better part of a year for Polarix's spymasters to even begin to relocate their sources from their situations near Robrecht to a position somewhat close to Drayden. So far, all Cyrus knew of the older (and less openly displeased) of the two princes was that Drayden had been brought up in a monastery, was one year his senior, and appeared kind and humble before the smallfolks.
Cyrus would like to speak with him, learn more about him, but now was not time for that. Instead, he only bowed as he did for Morgan and awaited the remaining occupant of their carriage.
“Presenting, Princess Anya Aballac of Prydain!”
And there she was, Princess Anya. She was indeed a beauty, with long silver hair that seemed to glow in a way that could not possibly be completely natural. She was clearly not happy to be here, however. As her brothers each took one of her hands in theirs and helped her out of the carriage Cyrus could read …Fear? Reluctance? Challenge? Disgust? She looked as if she was already being lead up to the altar – altar of sacrifice, that is.
Cyrus adjusted his own posture very slightly to mirror her older brother's. Perhaps if he tried to act like someone she was familiar to he could make this affair … less difficult for both of them. Bowing just a little deeper for her than required by custom, he gave her a somewhat uncertain smile and offered his hand for hers. By customs, he was probably expected to escort her into the castle. “Welcome to Crystal Peak, Princess Anya. I am Cyrus Aster of Polarix.”
For most of the delegates, this would be their first view of Crystal Peak.
Queen Morgan was supposedly bringing what appears to be the whole royal family, with the exception of Princess Analise. Those who had departed in that caravan included Princess Anya – obviously, Prince Robrecht – who everyone had believed to be the crown prince, and Prince Drayden. Even Prince Cortino may or may not be accompanying. Prydain’s entourage would also include General Alphonse, who was the primary leader of their highly efficient army. Which made sense – the General was related to the late King Matthew, after all, and Cyrus could understand that security would be a big consideration.
Then, there was reliable information that Arthur Aurelianus, Prydain’s advisor and dark-mage-in-residence, was in the caravan as well. Cyrus had found this somewhat suspect, and had privately expressed his concern regarding what Queen Morgan wanted him to do here. But father had assured him that Aurelianus had been brought to important meetings often enough for his presence to be normal. Meanwhile, mother reminded that Prydain had much better tools than he for “the sort of tasks you’re probably thinking of”. Which, Cyrus supposed, was fair enough.
The blue carriages were veering left now, and soon they would not be visible from this tower as they circle around the mountain to begin their ascend. Cyrus turned his attention instead to the colourful crowd gathered in the city square.
His father, never one to take interest in celebrations, had delegated the reception’s organization to Cyrus with a “it’s your wedding, so you should do your own chores”. Cyrus had in turn started a recruitment campaign for some of the best performers in the country – musicians, dancers, conjurers, any aspect of culture that Polarix would want to present, in short. They were among the people assembled below, ready to celebrate Prydain’s arrival. Many would be staying until the wedding itself too, he presumed, though they would not all be on his payroll between now and then.
A few others among the crowd were merchants. Though the majority of the stalls and booths that usually occupied the square at this hour had been cleared out for the occasion, a carefully selected handful had been allowed to remain (and weren’t they ecstatic to receive that news!). Cyrus had especially wanted to display some of Polarix’s produce and oversea imports. It seemed perhaps an unlikely consideration just after a war, but Prydain could be valuable as a trading partner, eventually.
There was to be no display of the Polarian military today – the war had done enough of that. Instead, only fifty soldiers from the battalion that answered directly to Cyrus were stationed in the square to police the spectators. The majority of his remaining soldiers had joined the guards in the city walls for the day, out of sight but ready to answer in case of serious trouble.
Cyrus watched as the first of Prydain’s entourage began to disappear behind the mountain, and sent words to his mother and father to get ready. It would be about an hour before the caravan would circle back to the front once more, and then it would be time to welcome their guests.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“… and with their arrival, we are hopeful for a new era of cooperation and mutual prosperity.” King Cadmus finished his speech for the gathered people of Polarix. It was one that encouraged them to love Prydain, with some carefully allocated wiggle room as always. The crowd had started to cheer just as Prydain’s caravan rolled into the square. Excellent timing.
Well aware of his father’s almost unfailing tendency to wear black, Cyrus had deliberately dressed himself in the lightest coloured formal outfit that he owned: A conservative asymmetrical grey tunic with a standing collar of etched silver. On occasions it had been beneficial to highlight the close resemblance of his face to his father’s (“In everything but your eyes,” Cadmus would say), but today was perhaps not one of them.
The door of the carriages opened one by one, and Cyrus tried his best to pick out Prydain’s important officers by the descriptions he’d received. The general he recognized from the signing of the treatise, and he thought he saw a cloaked figure coming out of the second-carriage that could be Aurelianus. A manservant ran up to the head carriage, clearly meant to be the announcer.
Finally, the door of the first carriage swung open as well.
“Presenting, Queen Morgan Aballac of Prydain!”
The Queen of Prydain looked resplendent as ever in a light blue gown. Her long hair artfully framed her face and her hard, steely eyes. Those same eyes first found his father and mother, who both bowed graciously and said some words of welcome. Then they swept over to Cyrus, fixing him with a gaze so penetrating that she might very well be attempting to dissect him with her eyes. Cyrus wondered how much or how little she’d learned about himself thus far.
“Presenting, Crown Prince Drayden and Prince Robrecht Aballac of Prydain!”
Cyrus surveyed the two Princes curiously as they stepped out of the carriage. The Asters had dedicated quite a bit of effort to building a dossier on Robrecht, believing him to be the future King of Prydain. Not bad material for a ruler, Cadmus had commented once.
But as they found out just under three years ago, Prince Robrecht was not the crown prince. Prince Drayden was, and Cyrus knew pitiably little about him. After all, it had taken two months for the crown prince’s reappearance to reach Crystal Peak, and then the better part of a year for Polarix's spymasters to even begin to relocate their sources from their situations near Robrecht to a position somewhat close to Drayden. So far, all Cyrus knew of the older (and less openly displeased) of the two princes was that Drayden had been brought up in a monastery, was one year his senior, and appeared kind and humble before the smallfolks.
Cyrus would like to speak with him, learn more about him, but now was not time for that. Instead, he only bowed as he did for Morgan and awaited the remaining occupant of their carriage.
“Presenting, Princess Anya Aballac of Prydain!”
And there she was, Princess Anya. She was indeed a beauty, with long silver hair that seemed to glow in a way that could not possibly be completely natural. She was clearly not happy to be here, however. As her brothers each took one of her hands in theirs and helped her out of the carriage Cyrus could read …Fear? Reluctance? Challenge? Disgust? She looked as if she was already being lead up to the altar – altar of sacrifice, that is.
Cyrus adjusted his own posture very slightly to mirror her older brother's. Perhaps if he tried to act like someone she was familiar to he could make this affair … less difficult for both of them. Bowing just a little deeper for her than required by custom, he gave her a somewhat uncertain smile and offered his hand for hers. By customs, he was probably expected to escort her into the castle. “Welcome to Crystal Peak, Princess Anya. I am Cyrus Aster of Polarix.”
Last edited by a moderator:
CJWrites
Elder Member
Morgan walked over to Cadmus and they bowed to each other, then she reached out her hand. It looked as if Cadmus were going to take her hand, bend down and kiss it like you would any other lady. Morgan grasped the hand and shook it, looking up at the much taller man, as if to say : do not underestimate me. Under these silks hides the same lionheart you met on the battlefield just weeks prior
Morgan looked over to where Anya was exiting the carriage, she glared at her future son-in-law. gathering had taken a downturn since her husband died since she had been in charge of the spy network. Now as head of state, she didn't have as much time to dedicate to her more subtle duties and she hadn't found someone both trustworthy and capable enough to do it. She knew he was bookish and quiet. Perhaps he and her firstborn could start a club. If the prince had had a fiery reputation, she wouldn't have agreed so readily to this marriage. She had faith in her instincts. And there were more pressing matters, namely the increasing Carleonian agression.
She suspected Arthur to have more information. She had a suspicion that her advisor was hiding... something. Still, it was better to keep her enemies close and keep tabs on them rather than have them scheming in the dark.
Anya looked him into the eyes and tried to put on her best smile. She picked up her dress by the hems and crossed her legs, curtsying. She stood straight, looking up at her fiance, whom she was meeting for the first time. She opened her mouth but her words stuck in her throat. What does one say in this situation?
"Its... nice to finally meet you." she stammared out, looking around as confetti flew around them and music played in the air. They were still a considerable distance apart. She looked down on her feet and kicked a pebble around and fiddled with her hands. This was awkward. They still stood aways apart. "This is... a wonderful square." She said, looking around at the white stone castle in front of them. She saw his outstretched hand and nearly kicked herself for missing it. Stepping forward and letting go of the dress she only now realized she was clutching, she put her hand in his.
Rob narrowed his eyebrows. Everything was going well so far. "I still think they're hiding something."
Drayden stood there silent, taking in his future in laws. He'd need to work with them someday. He couldn't afford to badmouth them.
"Perhaps." Arthur added. "But this peace is mutually benificial. Remember that everything we've heard about them, we've inflicted back twofold. I would not trust these people. But that's a general rule isn't it? Never trust anyone? After all, placing your trust in someone puts you at a disadvantage."
"Trust but verify." Drayden muttered under his breath. "Distrust breeds resentment and resentment breeds conflict. The best possible scenario is still when we all able to trust each other."
"Still, they have too much to gain from betraying us," Rob added. "We need to keep our guard up."
Morgan looked over to where Anya was exiting the carriage, she glared at her future son-in-law. gathering had taken a downturn since her husband died since she had been in charge of the spy network. Now as head of state, she didn't have as much time to dedicate to her more subtle duties and she hadn't found someone both trustworthy and capable enough to do it. She knew he was bookish and quiet. Perhaps he and her firstborn could start a club. If the prince had had a fiery reputation, she wouldn't have agreed so readily to this marriage. She had faith in her instincts. And there were more pressing matters, namely the increasing Carleonian agression.
She suspected Arthur to have more information. She had a suspicion that her advisor was hiding... something. Still, it was better to keep her enemies close and keep tabs on them rather than have them scheming in the dark.
Anya looked him into the eyes and tried to put on her best smile. She picked up her dress by the hems and crossed her legs, curtsying. She stood straight, looking up at her fiance, whom she was meeting for the first time. She opened her mouth but her words stuck in her throat. What does one say in this situation?
"Its... nice to finally meet you." she stammared out, looking around as confetti flew around them and music played in the air. They were still a considerable distance apart. She looked down on her feet and kicked a pebble around and fiddled with her hands. This was awkward. They still stood aways apart. "This is... a wonderful square." She said, looking around at the white stone castle in front of them. She saw his outstretched hand and nearly kicked herself for missing it. Stepping forward and letting go of the dress she only now realized she was clutching, she put her hand in his.
Rob narrowed his eyebrows. Everything was going well so far. "I still think they're hiding something."
Drayden stood there silent, taking in his future in laws. He'd need to work with them someday. He couldn't afford to badmouth them.
"Perhaps." Arthur added. "But this peace is mutually benificial. Remember that everything we've heard about them, we've inflicted back twofold. I would not trust these people. But that's a general rule isn't it? Never trust anyone? After all, placing your trust in someone puts you at a disadvantage."
"Trust but verify." Drayden muttered under his breath. "Distrust breeds resentment and resentment breeds conflict. The best possible scenario is still when we all able to trust each other."
"Still, they have too much to gain from betraying us," Rob added. "We need to keep our guard up."
Last edited by a moderator:
epsi10n
New Member
"Walk with me?" Cadmus invited. He would’ve offered Morgan his arm too, but he’d read her earlier reaction clearly enough. 'I am not looking to quarrel today, Morgan. In any case, your concern is unfounded. I never intended to treat you differently than I would for any other ruler.'
Elaine stood at his side. If Prydain wanted to indicate friendship, then the highest ranking man of their party would probably offer to escort her - and he was very curious to see whether that would be Alphonse Wessex or Arthur Aurelianus. If not, then she would walk by his side.
Cadmus glanced to the carriage, where his son was speaking with the princess. Frankly he would’ve preferred that the future queen be chosen from within Polarix, but there had been no other way to proceed once Morgan suggested a betrothal. Besides, he trusted Cyrus. He could live with Princess Anya as his bride.
Meanwhile, Cyrus was reminded again of their cultural differences as the princess greeted him with that straight-backed southron-style bow called a “curtsy”. He didn’t try to hide the slight awkwardness when he touched her knuckles lightly with his lips – it went well enough with the role he was projecting anyways. “I’m glad to finally meet you as well, - ” he’d debated very briefly whether to address her as ‘Anya’. It felt a little too presumptuous. “- my lady. I hope you will find comfort in this city.”
A tour of the castle was next on the agenda, he’d expect. Then the Prydainian entourage would be shown to their lodgings – the royal family by his father, the important officers by either William or Francis, and the servants by the more responsible overseers. ‘Still a long way to go, then…’
Despite his curiosity about the Prydainian royal party, Cyrus suddenly felt very tired. If only he was accompanying any other dignitary for any other purpose – and not a stranger who he was supposed to marry within months and who more or less thought he’d forced himself upon her! (Though to her credit, she was making a valiant effort to make conversation.) And he was supposed to attempt to entertain her for the next – what? Hour and a bit?
Well, when in doubt, start with the safer topics… “How was your journey, my lady?”
Elaine stood at his side. If Prydain wanted to indicate friendship, then the highest ranking man of their party would probably offer to escort her - and he was very curious to see whether that would be Alphonse Wessex or Arthur Aurelianus. If not, then she would walk by his side.
Cadmus glanced to the carriage, where his son was speaking with the princess. Frankly he would’ve preferred that the future queen be chosen from within Polarix, but there had been no other way to proceed once Morgan suggested a betrothal. Besides, he trusted Cyrus. He could live with Princess Anya as his bride.
Meanwhile, Cyrus was reminded again of their cultural differences as the princess greeted him with that straight-backed southron-style bow called a “curtsy”. He didn’t try to hide the slight awkwardness when he touched her knuckles lightly with his lips – it went well enough with the role he was projecting anyways. “I’m glad to finally meet you as well, - ” he’d debated very briefly whether to address her as ‘Anya’. It felt a little too presumptuous. “- my lady. I hope you will find comfort in this city.”
A tour of the castle was next on the agenda, he’d expect. Then the Prydainian entourage would be shown to their lodgings – the royal family by his father, the important officers by either William or Francis, and the servants by the more responsible overseers. ‘Still a long way to go, then…’
Despite his curiosity about the Prydainian royal party, Cyrus suddenly felt very tired. If only he was accompanying any other dignitary for any other purpose – and not a stranger who he was supposed to marry within months and who more or less thought he’d forced himself upon her! (Though to her credit, she was making a valiant effort to make conversation.) And he was supposed to attempt to entertain her for the next – what? Hour and a bit?
Well, when in doubt, start with the safer topics… “How was your journey, my lady?”
Last edited by a moderator:
CJWrites
Elder Member
Morgan smiled. "Gladly. I look forward to our time as friends rather than enemies. I have heard much about your splendid castle."
Alphonse offered Elaine his own arm. "Your Majesty." He said simply. Arthur hung back. He worked better from the shadows and didn't feel like putting himself out there.
Anya frowned. She threw up her hands in the air. "It was arduous, long and bumpy." She complained. "My brothers are dreadfully boring and I could not stand the days cooped up in a carriage with such a tense atmosphere. I could have sliced through it with my alchemy." She stopped to take a breath in the middle of her rant. Perhaps she was giving too much away or acting improperly but she didn't care right now. Her frustration and bitterness had to manifest somehow. Now that she was out of her mother's earshot, she didn't care how she sounded.
Alphonse offered Elaine his own arm. "Your Majesty." He said simply. Arthur hung back. He worked better from the shadows and didn't feel like putting himself out there.
Anya frowned. She threw up her hands in the air. "It was arduous, long and bumpy." She complained. "My brothers are dreadfully boring and I could not stand the days cooped up in a carriage with such a tense atmosphere. I could have sliced through it with my alchemy." She stopped to take a breath in the middle of her rant. Perhaps she was giving too much away or acting improperly but she didn't care right now. Her frustration and bitterness had to manifest somehow. Now that she was out of her mother's earshot, she didn't care how she sounded.
epsi10n
New Member
Ah, there was the famed free-spirit.
“I’ve heard a great many praises for your alchemy. I can’t claim to understand the intricacies of the craft – it’s outside my expertise, but many say you make the most wondrous things with magic,” Cyrus remarked, preparing to seize on to the one topic that would lead to a purely academic discussion with no politics attached.
But then his curiosity got the better of him.
“I’ve heard many praises for your brothers too. Surely a carriage ride with them cannot be so bad? And here I was looking forward to dinner with them today!” Cyrus joked, “Shall I hurry and try to arrange to sit with you instead?”
It was always a tricky business, arranging the seating for the banquet hall. Currently the middle section of the high table was set up with the king and queens in the center, the two heirs apparent to Queen Elaine’s left, the Prydainian royal family to Queen Morgan’s right and Anya tucked between her two youngest brothers.
Personally, Cyrus would prefer to keep it this way. A peer, an ally, or even a protective sibling he can handle, but throw in romance and everything gets so bloody awkward.
“I’ve heard a great many praises for your alchemy. I can’t claim to understand the intricacies of the craft – it’s outside my expertise, but many say you make the most wondrous things with magic,” Cyrus remarked, preparing to seize on to the one topic that would lead to a purely academic discussion with no politics attached.
But then his curiosity got the better of him.
“I’ve heard many praises for your brothers too. Surely a carriage ride with them cannot be so bad? And here I was looking forward to dinner with them today!” Cyrus joked, “Shall I hurry and try to arrange to sit with you instead?”
It was always a tricky business, arranging the seating for the banquet hall. Currently the middle section of the high table was set up with the king and queens in the center, the two heirs apparent to Queen Elaine’s left, the Prydainian royal family to Queen Morgan’s right and Anya tucked between her two youngest brothers.
Personally, Cyrus would prefer to keep it this way. A peer, an ally, or even a protective sibling he can handle, but throw in romance and everything gets so bloody awkward.
Last edited:
Users who are viewing this thread
Similar threads
