Blackstone
A simple writer
Dungeon Master
Inner Sanctum Nobility
♔ Champion ♔
Florentin was in shock, it was the only word for it, as he felt what his world he had built , fought, and bled for being torn asunder. In his mind he was back in Siovale, the first day at the monastery, cold and alone. He knew railing at his sister would do little good, and in fact would not only draw undue attention to the issue, but would put him against his fellow Casseline. No, not his fellow Casselines. He never took his formal vow, and never would now.
They would not acknowledge him and in fact would likely hold scorn and contempt for him, believing it was he who orchestrated leaving the Brotherhood and returning to the life of luxury and privilege. Nothing could be further from the truth. They would never believe it, never be convinced of it. He had always been the princeling play-acting, never serious or dedicated to the core concepts of Cassiel at all.
He had been led to chambers which had been set aside for him. He barely registered it. His self discipline was significant and abundant, it did have its limits and he felt those steel bands locking it away straining and starting to buckle. He turned about, noticing the servants and speaking in such a tone one would think he promised harm or worse to them. "Leave me, do not disturb me at all."
They left in a hurry, and Florentin did stick his head out the door to be certain no servant was within hearing distance. He closed the doors and when he was finally and truly alone, he tossed his head back and let loose the black and choking anger hollowing him out inside. He reached for his daggers, but recalled they were not there as he was in the Palais and only Casselines assigned to the House Royale, or the royal guard, which while he might be one tomorrow, he was not one today.
Instead he went to the wall and struck it many times with the open palm of his hand. He at least possessed enough on his wits not to hit the wall with his closed fist, but it was a near thing. Over and over again he battered his hands against the wall, until they were swollen, bruised, throbbing in pain. Only then did exhaustion claim him and he sank down to his knees, not even feeling the tears rolling down his cheeks. His life, all he had ever wanted in a life, was over.
Gerard did his best to hide any of his emotions on his features. While he was the second born of the House Royale, he was still of the House Royale and a Prince of the Blood. He was not used to being rebuffed, especially by courtesans even if they have had the fortune, in light of the tragedy, of falling into noble title. Still, her words were not a "no" and if they were, he would find a way to turn it to his advantage.
It had always been such among the Courcel children of his father. Gerard never considered any of them truly whole. Viviana was intelligent to be sure, but all passion and no restraint. Florentin was all martial ability and no redeeming social graces. Then there was him, all cunning and social charm, but at the same time even he knew he lacked a moral compass which always pointed true. He might not see twelve moves ahead like his sister with chess, but he could find a way to maneuver any fault committed into something positive in the end.
He rose from his seat and bowed deeply towards Violette, taking her hand in his and kissing it, his sea blue eyes upon her blue steel ones. "It is more than fair, your Grace. You shall receive my request today and I do hope you give it all consideration. I do offer what others cannot, access to the new Queen. Something a new Duchesse might find to her benefit. Until then, a good day to you, your Grace."
He straightened and moved to leave. Yes, he managed to turn the situation well into his favor as more than one woman peered after him as he walked by. Nobility and courtesans alike heard his words. He could provide access to the Queen. One a night of high celebration, where wine would flow like water and lasting impressions made, and even longer standing relationships. No, he did not believe the Duchesse would refuse. All he needed was for her to agree. He was certain his charm could win her over. He was not Floretin after all. He had some charisma and grace.
The formal state funeral recognizing Constantine de la Courcel was two days later. Artur along with a few Siovalesse nobles were the last to arrive. The city and the Palais were filled to near bursting. Of the nobility, only the landed chevaliers and baronies did not come for the funeral. Perhaps a viscomte or four, but every comte. Comtesse, marquis, and the landed Ducs and Duchsses were present. It has been a burden upon the City and a steady flow of livestock and foodstuffs to keep it fed.
The main ceremony was held in Elua's Square. Viviana and Isabella wer upon the royal stage erected, as was Florentin dressed in the new formal guard uniform laid out for him when he returned from his exercises in the morning. It was more muscle memory and at a loss than a need. In fact there was little need to keep up his skills and form save for the last ten years it was all he had, the one thing he could say it was his, forged and honed and not handed to him by accident of birth.
He almost did not attend, but then there was Gerard, always Gerard. He supposed he need not care what his eldest brother thought. He would find fault in anything no matter what action Florentin took. It was not merely his brother, but the rest of his family. As furious as he was at his sister at this moment, he could not cause her distress, especially on this day where her grief would be on display for all the peerage to see. It was then with only seething reluctance he dressed in the unfamiliar and uncomfortable uniform and joined his immediate and extended family as his sister addressed the court, and more importantly, the people.
The ceremony was not too long, but touched upon the greatness of his life and his rule. The tragedy to House Courcel was noted, not only in losing the King, but two years after the death of the Queen's brother, his wife, and their second son. Viviana emplored all d'Angelines to reach into their hearts and not give into darkness and despair but to be the tree and the flower, always straining, always fighting for the light to touch them again after the long night.
The coronation was a much more lavish affair and though the celebration was muted, there were some festivities. The oaths to pledge their allegiance to Viviana would take place over the new two days. This day was about crowning the new queen and the feasting. There was a fête in the main Palais ballroom. Tables topped to near groaning with food for guests to grab a plate of food if they wish. The rest of the festivities were people gathered together to speak and dance, and there was no lack of willing partners at the fête. The reason for this was the cream of adepts yet to make their marques from the Night Court as well as independent courtesans in the City were present, the time of mourning declared over by the Night Court and the temple of Naamah.
For Gerard it was a day full of triumph to offset the day of anger and rage he had the previous day for his father's funeral when he saw his brother dressed in the uniform of an officer of the royal guard, and one assigned specifically to their sister. He had been confused, and thought it was a political ploy to display a united family front to Parliament, to the nobility. He asked his sister about it and she revealed to him what happened to Florentin.
Unlike his brother, Gerard had no qualms at all about railing against his sister in anger. How dare she do what she did! The scandal alone would tarnish the family, it would affect him. She was hearing none of it and displayed the Courcel temper at him as well, and reminded him of the fact he was not just speaking to his sister but his Queen. It had been researched, consulted, and approved by legal scholars, and by their mother. In light of the series of tragedies which had plagued the family, both theirs and their mother's, it was determined a united family close together was the best course. The decision had been made.
The only bright moment of the day was confirmation by the Duchesse Bathalame. She did indeed agree to his escort to the coronation. A good potential match for him, with strong ties to Namarre and estates rich in both produced goods and resources. The fact she was a courtesan did not detract her in his eyes. In fact it would play into his favor as Duchesse or no, many would not look past such. For him, he saw it as gaining one who knew what to do in the pleasure chamber.
She knew how to dance as well, and he was not bad himself. Oh he was not of the skill as the courtesans trained in the Night Court, but he only stepped on her feet once, and it was more because he was bumped upon the dance floor. The clumsy or drunk ox. Still he was not going to let such things ruin this night for him. He saw himself as a great military leader on the verge of conquest, and the Duchesse was to be his prize.
They would not acknowledge him and in fact would likely hold scorn and contempt for him, believing it was he who orchestrated leaving the Brotherhood and returning to the life of luxury and privilege. Nothing could be further from the truth. They would never believe it, never be convinced of it. He had always been the princeling play-acting, never serious or dedicated to the core concepts of Cassiel at all.
He had been led to chambers which had been set aside for him. He barely registered it. His self discipline was significant and abundant, it did have its limits and he felt those steel bands locking it away straining and starting to buckle. He turned about, noticing the servants and speaking in such a tone one would think he promised harm or worse to them. "Leave me, do not disturb me at all."
They left in a hurry, and Florentin did stick his head out the door to be certain no servant was within hearing distance. He closed the doors and when he was finally and truly alone, he tossed his head back and let loose the black and choking anger hollowing him out inside. He reached for his daggers, but recalled they were not there as he was in the Palais and only Casselines assigned to the House Royale, or the royal guard, which while he might be one tomorrow, he was not one today.
Instead he went to the wall and struck it many times with the open palm of his hand. He at least possessed enough on his wits not to hit the wall with his closed fist, but it was a near thing. Over and over again he battered his hands against the wall, until they were swollen, bruised, throbbing in pain. Only then did exhaustion claim him and he sank down to his knees, not even feeling the tears rolling down his cheeks. His life, all he had ever wanted in a life, was over.
Gerard did his best to hide any of his emotions on his features. While he was the second born of the House Royale, he was still of the House Royale and a Prince of the Blood. He was not used to being rebuffed, especially by courtesans even if they have had the fortune, in light of the tragedy, of falling into noble title. Still, her words were not a "no" and if they were, he would find a way to turn it to his advantage.
It had always been such among the Courcel children of his father. Gerard never considered any of them truly whole. Viviana was intelligent to be sure, but all passion and no restraint. Florentin was all martial ability and no redeeming social graces. Then there was him, all cunning and social charm, but at the same time even he knew he lacked a moral compass which always pointed true. He might not see twelve moves ahead like his sister with chess, but he could find a way to maneuver any fault committed into something positive in the end.
He rose from his seat and bowed deeply towards Violette, taking her hand in his and kissing it, his sea blue eyes upon her blue steel ones. "It is more than fair, your Grace. You shall receive my request today and I do hope you give it all consideration. I do offer what others cannot, access to the new Queen. Something a new Duchesse might find to her benefit. Until then, a good day to you, your Grace."
He straightened and moved to leave. Yes, he managed to turn the situation well into his favor as more than one woman peered after him as he walked by. Nobility and courtesans alike heard his words. He could provide access to the Queen. One a night of high celebration, where wine would flow like water and lasting impressions made, and even longer standing relationships. No, he did not believe the Duchesse would refuse. All he needed was for her to agree. He was certain his charm could win her over. He was not Floretin after all. He had some charisma and grace.
The formal state funeral recognizing Constantine de la Courcel was two days later. Artur along with a few Siovalesse nobles were the last to arrive. The city and the Palais were filled to near bursting. Of the nobility, only the landed chevaliers and baronies did not come for the funeral. Perhaps a viscomte or four, but every comte. Comtesse, marquis, and the landed Ducs and Duchsses were present. It has been a burden upon the City and a steady flow of livestock and foodstuffs to keep it fed.
The main ceremony was held in Elua's Square. Viviana and Isabella wer upon the royal stage erected, as was Florentin dressed in the new formal guard uniform laid out for him when he returned from his exercises in the morning. It was more muscle memory and at a loss than a need. In fact there was little need to keep up his skills and form save for the last ten years it was all he had, the one thing he could say it was his, forged and honed and not handed to him by accident of birth.
He almost did not attend, but then there was Gerard, always Gerard. He supposed he need not care what his eldest brother thought. He would find fault in anything no matter what action Florentin took. It was not merely his brother, but the rest of his family. As furious as he was at his sister at this moment, he could not cause her distress, especially on this day where her grief would be on display for all the peerage to see. It was then with only seething reluctance he dressed in the unfamiliar and uncomfortable uniform and joined his immediate and extended family as his sister addressed the court, and more importantly, the people.
The ceremony was not too long, but touched upon the greatness of his life and his rule. The tragedy to House Courcel was noted, not only in losing the King, but two years after the death of the Queen's brother, his wife, and their second son. Viviana emplored all d'Angelines to reach into their hearts and not give into darkness and despair but to be the tree and the flower, always straining, always fighting for the light to touch them again after the long night.
The coronation was a much more lavish affair and though the celebration was muted, there were some festivities. The oaths to pledge their allegiance to Viviana would take place over the new two days. This day was about crowning the new queen and the feasting. There was a fête in the main Palais ballroom. Tables topped to near groaning with food for guests to grab a plate of food if they wish. The rest of the festivities were people gathered together to speak and dance, and there was no lack of willing partners at the fête. The reason for this was the cream of adepts yet to make their marques from the Night Court as well as independent courtesans in the City were present, the time of mourning declared over by the Night Court and the temple of Naamah.
For Gerard it was a day full of triumph to offset the day of anger and rage he had the previous day for his father's funeral when he saw his brother dressed in the uniform of an officer of the royal guard, and one assigned specifically to their sister. He had been confused, and thought it was a political ploy to display a united family front to Parliament, to the nobility. He asked his sister about it and she revealed to him what happened to Florentin.
Unlike his brother, Gerard had no qualms at all about railing against his sister in anger. How dare she do what she did! The scandal alone would tarnish the family, it would affect him. She was hearing none of it and displayed the Courcel temper at him as well, and reminded him of the fact he was not just speaking to his sister but his Queen. It had been researched, consulted, and approved by legal scholars, and by their mother. In light of the series of tragedies which had plagued the family, both theirs and their mother's, it was determined a united family close together was the best course. The decision had been made.
The only bright moment of the day was confirmation by the Duchesse Bathalame. She did indeed agree to his escort to the coronation. A good potential match for him, with strong ties to Namarre and estates rich in both produced goods and resources. The fact she was a courtesan did not detract her in his eyes. In fact it would play into his favor as Duchesse or no, many would not look past such. For him, he saw it as gaining one who knew what to do in the pleasure chamber.
She knew how to dance as well, and he was not bad himself. Oh he was not of the skill as the courtesans trained in the Night Court, but he only stepped on her feet once, and it was more because he was bumped upon the dance floor. The clumsy or drunk ox. Still he was not going to let such things ruin this night for him. He saw himself as a great military leader on the verge of conquest, and the Duchesse was to be his prize.
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