Royal Court – Longest Night Midwinter Masque

A Cassiline’s Kindness

Manuel had spent the past months in the company of the Dauphin and his retinue and felt himself growing more comfortable with the other men. Less an outsider than he had when he was first tasked with guarding the Prince, yet still not a close companion. Their actions showed a measure of trust, one that he had worked tirelessly to earn. He knew that the next year would be a difficult one for all of them as Gustav came closer to his coronation, and he knew that the small circle would be invaluable to the Dauphin. There were so many aspects of being a ruler for which the Prince was prepared, and yet so many others where he still needed the support of those closest to him. Manuel hoped that he could be marked as part of that group. He prayed to Cassiel that he would have the strength to help guide and assist his charge. That Gustav would see him as a trusted compatriot, a shoulder to lean on in times of need.

Not that it would be easy for either of them. For all of his life, Gustav had been a second son. One year of playing Dauphin did not make him feel in any way ready for the crown.

“How do you do it?” Gustav sat in his chair at the desk in his personal study, having long foregone focusing on the work before him and rather studying the Cassiline standing at rest by the door.

“Do what, Your Highness?”

“Maintain such…composure.” Gustav leaned back in his seat. “My life is in your hands, you have taken me as a charge and have sworn to defend me with your life. Do the teachings of Cassiel give you such confidence in who you are? Your strengths and your place?”

Manuel barely blinked before responding. “They do, my lord. My Cassiline training prepared me to be exactly who I am. I know exactly my place and my position. And this gives me, as you say, confidence. I have spent my years preparing to become the man you see before you.” He paused then, thinking on how to give speech to his thoughts. “I do, as I think all men do, have my times of doubt, of questioning. I felt called to the Brotherhood. To protect and serve, in Cassiel’s name. And yet…there are those quiet moments when I wonder if I am worthy of such a title: Cassiline. It carries great weight. Great responsibility. But it is in those moments when I turn to the Perfect Companion, to remember that it is my duty to strive for the perfection of Cassiel, to remember that I am not him. I remember that I am a Cassiline Brother, and not Cassiel himself. Remembering that I am imperfect allows me to have the confidence to be who I am. To know my place, both here at your side and in the greater world.”

Gustav let out a low groan, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he all but slouched in his seat. “I envy you that. It seems I am surrounded by people full of confidence and purpose while I am…”

His hands draped away from his face as he looked at the high ceiling of the room, tracing the line of the vaulted support beams, murmured, “I am not the grand ship, steady and sure, that my brother was. I am only a small fishing vessel, lost in the vast sea.”

“Sounds to me like you need to find your Navigator’s star,” Manuel said, his wrists crossed easily before him as he watched the young man. “Cassiel and his teachings are my way. Where is your guiding star?”

Gustav’s face softened, his head lolling to the side to look out the window to his left, his gaze tracing the skyline of the city beyond. “I don’t know…”

“I don’t think that’s true, Your Highness,” Manuel said, his voice gentle.

The color rose slightly in Gustav’s cheeks, and he let out a small, nervous laugh before sighing. “Alright, I have never been a good liar. Yes, I know the star in my sky. I have not been able to stop thinking about her since I saw her for the first time. I wrote to her while I was at University in Siovale, our correspondence never failed to bring light when I needed it. And when I think on her, there is a warmth in my chest that I know is Naamah’s blessing of…well, I am not so much of a romantic that I will entertain that word. But she…”

He let out another sigh, this one heavier and more weary. “I know it will only cause trouble, for both of us, but I find myself desperately praying that my feelings are not false and, even more impossibly, that she might return them. It could not be so terrible, to love her? She’s a Dahlia, isn’t she? And so very smart and grounded…she could be a valuable advisor, if they let me have her.”

For all that their world lived under the sacred precept of love as thou wilt, he was not so naïve as to think he could enjoy the same freedom of his heart that the rest of the country did. He was to be king. The desires of a king’s heart came second to the needs of the crown and kingdom.

Manuel studied him for a long moment. The kind of love that Gustav was just starting to feel was one that he would never have for himself. For certain, he was a child of the Night Court, but his path was that of a Cassiline Brother; romantic love had no place in his heart. But there was a kindness that he could offer, that only he could offer, that could help the Dauphin face the year head.

“Your Highness,” Manuel said. “You know that I do not attend festivities on the Longest Night, instead maintaining Cassiel’s Vigil. Although there is always that small part of me that would love to engage in the revelry, a night of prayer and reflection has never failed to leave me satisfied and…sated…in a way that the excesses of the Night Court cannot. If you would so choose, it would be my honor to have you join me in my vigil. Perhaps you would find, come morning, that the Perfect Companion grants you guidance, if even in some small measure, to serve your country and people in more perfect measure.”

Gustav looked at him, Courcel blue eyes taking in the sight of the Cassiline and the generosity of what he offered.

“Thank you, Manuel,” Gustav said quietly. “I think…I think I would like that.”

A Hollow Crown to be Handed Away

When the Queen sent out the summons to call the court, the courtiers came. It was not often that Queen Anielle de la Courcel called the court, preferring private audiences and smaller receptions to handle the affairs of state that she could manage in her grief of losing her firstborn son. So, when the noble lords and ladies of the court came to the grand presence chamber of the royal palace, no few of them were whispering amongst themselves as to what could have inspired the Queen to summon them all.

When she entered, it was with her attendants, personal guards, and remaining children at her sides.

From his spot off to the side, Maël de Rocaille studied the face of the Dauphin, trying to see if he could read what his friend was thinking. Frustratingly, Gustav was carefully blank. Likely because he knew the nobles would be watching him to see if they could figure out what was going to happen, trusting in his lack of experience in court.

However, even if they had been able to read his thoughts, none of them would have expected what happened next.

“Lords and ladies, d’Angelines all, thank you for answering my summons and joining us this afternoon at this court assembly,” Queen Anielle said, standing before her throne wearing the fleur-de-lis crown of Terre d’Ange. Her son stood at her right hand, her daughter to her left, a triumvirate of the Courcel royal family that surveyed the people gathered in the opulent hall.

“I will not demand much of your time,” Queen Anielle said, her voice pitched to carry all the way to the back of the chamber. “Certainly not since the Longest Night is coming ever closer, and we all have impatient tailors waiting to complete our costumes.”

A smattering of polite laughter bounced through the gathered nobles and the Queen managed to smile warmly. The lines on her face were deeper than before, weariness and grief leaving their marks on her face with deep gouges of pain and age.

“The coming night, even with all of its revelry and celebration,” she continued when the laughter had quieted, “is still the turning point in our year, when the longest night of the year gives way to the sunrise and the Sun Prince returns to reinvigorate his Winter Queen into the glory of the coming spring.”

She clasped her hands before her, taking a moment to bow her head and study her interlaced fingers. Maël’s eyes darted around the chamber, taking a read of the faces and factions present. He had a terrible sense he knew what might be coming. For a moment, just a flicker of his eyes, Gustav glanced at him and Maël straightened from his careless lean at the hint of the emotion in the Dauphin’s eyes.

“And yet,” the queen said heavily, “the cold of winter has set into my bones, heavier with the weight of my grief. For me, the dawn of the lengthening days will not restore me to youth and glory. Long has this weighed on my mind in the wake of the plague that brought so many of our fellow d’Angelines to the True Terre d’Ange That Lies Beyond. The loss of my first son, Daniel, was a blow for all of us, not only my House. In the months following, we have all fought to return to what we can consider our new normal lives, knowing nothing will be the same again. We are all changed. I am changed. Terre d’Ange needs a new way forward into the golden sunlight of Blessed Elua’s vision for us.”

The chamber stood so quiet that one could hear the way the courtiers held their breath to listen to the Queen’s words.

“Which is why,” she said, lifting her chin again, her blue eyes bright with her tears and her strength, “I will be endeavoring to prepare Gustav de la Courcel to succeed me as King of Terre d’Ange. Following the festivities of the Longest Night next year, I will be abdicating my place on the throne and presenting my son with the crown of Terre d’Ange.”

Hadn’t she given enough to it? She had no more left to give.

The whispers rippled around the hall, shock giving them an undercurrent of panic as the gathered nobles processed this startling announcement. In the briefest of heartbeats before the eyes turned to him, Gustav’s gaze flicked to where he had seen Maël standing. If anyone would understand what he wanted now, it would be him. Yet it seemed Maël was already two steps ahead of him, for the space where his friend had stood was empty and he caught a flash of a panel sliding closed in the wall. Gustav released a relieved breath. He could trust Maël, he knew he could.

Maël borrowed a horse from the stables, vaulting onto the back and setting his heels to its flanks. He did not care for the decorum of the moment now, all eyes were still on the royal court and for the rest of the city…well, they would hear soon enough. He knew well who needed to hear it now, as quickly as possible.

The horse’s hooves thundered across the bridge spanning the river and up the streets through Night’s Doorstep and to Mont Nuit itself, Maël’s practiced hands reining the horse up sharply once he reached the courtyard of Dahlia House. Kicking his leg over the horse’s neck, he slid from its back and all but sprinted up the steps to the doors. Were he focused on anything but his next steps, he would have been impressed at how the nature of his arrival had not broken the regal facade of the footmen’s expressions. Instead, he only paused long enough to ask the frowning adept in the foyer, “The Second. Where is she?”

“Second Odilia is indisposed at the moment,” the adept sniffed haughtily. “She is being fitted for her gown—”

Maël took a strong step toward her. “Where?”

The adept faltered for a moment, glancing up to the staircase that led to the private chambers of the house. Maël took off, taking the steps two at a time. He had watched Gustav vanish up these stairs and had caught enough details about the layout of the mansion from his wanderings that he found his way easily enough, striding down the corridor with such an expression on his face that novices, even composed and regal as they were, all but leapt out of his way. One did try to bar his way from the Second’s door, but he brushed past the boy easily enough to push the door open.

Inside, the tailor’s assistants cried out in alarm at the sudden intrusion. The Second herself turned in surprise at the interruption, her hands rising to hold the gown to her chest as though concerned it would come tearing off if she moved too quickly while still pinned. Her hair caught up in a messy knot to keep it out of the way, it bared the length of her back and the marque there. Surely it was a masterpiece of the marquist’s art, but Maël had more pressing concerns. Clearly this showed in his face because Odilia did not waste time feigning outrage or scandal. Her brown eyes focused on his expression and she only asked, “What is it?”

His eyes flicked to the attendants and novices whispering and she turned her head to order immediately, “Out!”

They scrambled to obey, and she stepped down from the collapsible fitting platform the tailor had brought, her own face hardening into grave severity as she asked again, “What has happened?”

Maël looked at her for a long moment. He may not fully know what passed between this courtesan and his friend, but he knew that in what was to come, the two of them were likely to become some kind of surprising allies. He may not know her well or even at all, but he knew that she needed to know what was about to happen.

“Anielle’s stepping aside,” he told her directly. “At the end of next year, Gustav will become King of Terre d’Ange.”

He watched the shock bloom across her face, the surprise of the sudden announcement giving way a heartbeat later to some strategic cunning as she breathed evenly through the revelation and into the focus of the moment.

Her face hardened and she lifted her gaze again to meet his eyes with a slow nod, acknowledging that he had come racing across the city to find her and tell her directly. So she gave the olive branch as she said, “Then he will need our help.”

He nodded, feeling the seed of respect forming in his chest for her as he agreed, “He will.”

Plans in Motion

Niklos returned to the townhouse from his investiture ceremony with a sense of purpose. Jacob met him at the door with a curious look in his eyes, as Niklos was moving with a different sort of intent than he had seen from any of the Shahrizai for some time.

Niklos grinned. “Her Majesty has given me leave to turn the Shahrizai reputation around. And she has granted me the county. Small steps, subtle moves… Everything Melisande was a master at, but I am to employ those skills to the benefit of the Crown.”

Jacob nodded, knowing that there would be pushback. But the connections that had been cultivated over years and decades would be employed.

Niklos stepped around the butler and moved toward the stairs. “I have some letters to write, please have food sent up to me, Jacob. Also, you know of my association with Philomena nò Heliotrope? Please do me a favor and look into her family… I have a feeling there is a connection there that would benefit both of us greatly.” Niklos continued up the stairs to his chamber, moving toward the desk once he was inside and drawing out paper for a number of letters. The first would be to his parents to let them know of his fortune and request their advice.

“Dearest Maman and Father,

I have just returned to The City Townhouse from an audience at the Palace with Her Majesty the Queen and His Highness the Dauphin, and they have granted me the inheritance laid out in Demitrios’s will. The County of Angers remains in the family, and I am its current custodian. The Queen has also accepted my rather ambitious goal to rehabilitate the image of our family, and so I must become the perfect courtier. I would ask that you please pass along any rumors that you might become aware of, for good or for ill, that would affect our great nation so that I can help protect it. I do not wish to see our name go the way of the Trevalion or de Somervilles. I will close this now, but I wish you the best for summer. Please send some of the late honey with your response, there is nothing as good in The City!

Your devoted son,

Niklos

PS – Kn D7-E5”

The food was brought up as he was finishing the letter to his parents, and he sealed it with his personal seal—an eagle with its wings outstretched—as opposed to the Keys of the house. He smiled at the servant and nodded. “My thanks, and could you see that Jacob has this dispatched with the rest of the family communication? It’s a note to my parents and I wouldn’t want to bother the Royal Post carriers with it.”

The servant nodded and bowed with a mumbled, “Of course, my Lord” as he took the letter and left the room.

Niklos settled back into his chair and began some simple notes to a number of bankers, introducing himself and explaining that he was, at the moment, the family member in charge at the Townhouse. He also wrote to Demitrios’s banker in The City and informed him of the inheritance and offered to meet with the man at his convenience to go over everything with the accounts. Leaning back, he took a deep breath and began to eat as he considered who else he would need to contact. Word would spread by the next week, if not sooner.

Niklos’s Investiture

The Royal Post had delivered a letter addressed to Niklos marked with all of the hallmarks of the Palace. He’d let it sit on his desk for a day, staring at the Courcel swan impressed in the navy wax of the seal every time he walked past it. It demanded an answer, and he didn’t know that he wanted to see the question. Finally, after some subtle prodding from Jacob, he opened the letter to see what the Palace might want from him.

From the Office of Her Majesty, Anielle de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d’Ange, to Lord Niklos Shahrizai

Regarding the matter of the succession of the County of Angers and the wishes of the late Demitrios Shahrizai, Her Majesty wishes to discuss the future of the title. Your presence is expected at the Royal Palace tomorrow after the midday bells.

Court dress is not required.

On behalf of Queen Anielle, from the hand of the Royal Steward

The official seal of the House Royal of Terre d’Ange was pressed into blue wax, a crowned swan beneath a lily flower.

Niklos made his way down to the main level of the townhouse, proffering the rather basic summons to Jacob. A faint chuckle escaped from his throat as one of Jacob’s eyebrows raised as the man read the summons. “It could be much worse,” Nikolas said. “The note could have said that the inheritance had been voided due to some peculiarity of law. Unless Her Majesty is saving that information to tell me tomorrow.”

Jacob’s head shifted marginally. Niklos thought it was in the negative, before the taciturn man spoke. “My Lord, were the Crown to rule in opposition to your inheritance, there might be some issue. The lands are within the Shahrizai duchy and held by the family since the very beginning of Terre d’Ange. While the Crown must approve of the inheritance, the lands around Angers must remain within the family’s holdings. And there are—” Jacob paused, considering his words, “—only a few qualified members of the family that the lands could be bestowed upon… and none of them fit every stipulation of Lord Demitrious’s will. None aside from you. I rather think Lord Demitrious wrote the provisions with you specifically in mind. And he was old enough to have met Melisande… He would have made certain everything was to the letter.” Jacob smiled briefly and handed the note back to Niklos. “I shall have the good coach prepared. We wouldn’t want the Palace thinking that you were some backwoods relative trying to press your way into the higher echelons of the nobility without any training.”

With that, Jacob slipped across the main hall and through a concealed doorway, leaving Niklos standing there, summons in hand. Niklos took a deep breath and made his way back to the stairs; tomorrow couldn’t arrive soon enough. And after that, well, he had more people in the city to see. Perhaps a visit to Cereus was in order… or possibly Jasmine.

When the royal guards at the gate of the royal palace saw the carriage bearing the Shahrizai keys rolling up the Rue Courcel towards the grand gates, there was not a hint of their personal thoughts on their faces. Trained for discipline and loyalty, they paused only to verify the summons before permitting the coach to pass through.

Likewise, the footmen that waited at the door requested to view the invitation to verify the parchment, ink, and seal before opening the doors to the halls and salons housed within the royal palace. While the Shahrizai maintained apartments within the palace, this particular Shahrizai had not made use of them in some time, and the steward had briefed the footmen carefully about the summons for this day.

Therefore, the footmen guided the Kusheline nobleman through the hallways, not to the grand throne room, but to a smaller reception chamber deeper inside the palace. The guards on either side of the door did their duty to ensure the guest did not enter into the royal presence armed then stood aside to let the footmen open the door and answer, “Lord Niklos Shahrizai.”

Her Majesty, Anielle de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d’Ange, sat in a simple chair set against a drape of Courcel blue. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, her elbows rested on the arms of her chair, her crown prominent on her dark head, she was every inch the ruler of the country as she looked evenly at her guest entering into her presence. And she was not alone. Off to the side, standing at the tall window with the narrow circlet on his head, stood her second son, Gustav de la Courcel, the Dauphin of Terre d’Ange. He was looking pensively out of the window at first, his head only turning when the Shahrizai name was introduced. Two sets of Courcel eyes watched Niklos enter.

Niklos made his way into the audience chamber slowly. He’d been present in the past for audiences, but those were always in the grand Audience Hall, and he hadn’t been the focus of those audiences. Jacob had reminded him of some of the more significant courtly customs that he would need to be aware of for this, though even Jacob hadn’t anticipated a fully private audience.

He crossed the hall at a measured pace, his boots whispering across the floor. He’d always had a light step, and Jacob had cautioned him about making too much noise as well. Nine paces back from the Queen, he paused and bowed deeply, his attention on her, though he had noted Gustav by the windows. The Dauphin seemed pensive, which could prove to be a good quality. Jacob had passed word that Gustav had once been rowdier than his brother, but that was to be expected from a spare…at least it would have been expected. Now Gustav was the heir, and that role seemed to weigh heavier on his shoulders than it had his brother. Or perhaps it was more obvious in Gustav.

Niklos cleared his throat softly. “Majesties, I am responding to your summons.” Niklos spoke clearly, though quietly. There was no reason to be loud, no one was going to interrupt them.

“Welcome, Lord Niklos,” Queen Anielle said evenly, gesturing for him to rise. “Let us begin by offering our sorrows for the passing of the late Count. This last year, it seems, has taken much from many of us, and offered opportunities to prove the mettle of our spirits in how we rise to fill the empty places left.”

The Dauphin turned more of his attention to the conversation then, not yet joining his mother at the chair sat by her right hand, only watching from the sides at the moment as he considered the two people in the center of the room. The tiniest smile flickered across his face as he remembered the chessboard his lady kept in her chambers, the one that laid out all of the world of politics in thirty-two little pieces.

“Yet, the world does not stop moving while we grieve,” the Queen continued, gesturing a footman forward. He bowed and presented her a document on a silver tray, which she plucked up with her fingers to scan. “And there is the matter of the succession of the Shahrizai County to consider. In this document, Count Demitrios makes his wishes clear, and the Judiciary committee regarding noble inheritances has informed me that, as per the stipulations laid out in Count Demitrios’ will, you are the next in line for the title. The only thing that could alter that would be a royal decree.”

Niklos listened, his eyes focused on her, though he monitored the Dauphin in his peripheral vision. He missed the faint smile as the footman stepped forward with the tray, another distraction. He was too close—bad for the angles for observation. His father had taught him that. Never stay in a position where you couldn’t see all the pieces on the board. Of course, his father was warning him about getting stabbed, something that really shouldn’t happen in the chamber he was in, but stranger things had happened. Of course, old Demitrios had warned him about being too observant one of the times he’d met the old man. Melisande spent much of her life in exile on Cytherea, the Count had reminded him, because she had the vision to see all the pieces and all the moves…but not the vision to see the final endgame. Sapphire eyes met Courcel blue ones as the Queen finished scanning the information about Demitrios’ will and the Judiciary Committee’s ruling. Well, one hurdle out of the way.

Laying the document in her lap, the Queen lifted her eyes to regard the lord before her. “We have called you here, Lord Niklos, to discuss the future of the title. Considering our families’ torrid past and complicated entanglement, we have a vested interest in the actions and ambitions of your line. While I bore your predecessor no ill will, nor do I seek to judge you on the past actions of your forebears, it is nevertheless prudent to discuss the matter that I might see what kind of a count you could choose to become.”

He smiled faintly at her comments regarding the discussion of the title. It was only one generation since Imriel de la Courcel, son of the greatest traitor the realm had ever known, had wed Sidonie de la Courcel and continued on the royal line that stretched all the way back to Blessed Elua. Torrid and complicated indeed. This queen and her son could well be considered blood cousins of the family.

“What kind of count I might choose to become, Majesty? I’m not certain how you mean. Every Shahrizai knows of our duty and obligation to the Crown, and anyone who pretends to the cleverness of our shared ancestress are very directly told that there will be none of that nonsense again.” He chuckled lightly. “I fear, Your Majesty, that when it comes to the Crown, the Shahrizai are well and truly under control. We have our personal interests, but we are well and truly yours.” He’d expected something like this, even before news of the will came out. Various aunts and uncles had all made it crystal clear that if any question of loyalty came up, he was to assure whomever asked of the Shahrizai’s absolute loyalty to the crown and realm, at the point of a knife if it came to that.

“It is not just me you will have to convince, Lord Niklos,” Anielle said softly, watching him with the unerring focus of a falcon. “Your family has a reputation, cast by a very long shadow. How fairly it is earned is little matter when all of the nobility, indeed in many ways all of the country, is watching you.”

She leaned back slightly in her chair, comfortable in her seat of power. “But let us speak candidly, then. Few of us often get that chance. Not every person who inherits a title is meant for greatness. Names can easily fade into the mists of history. What matters when heirs are given their titles, with all the power and prestige that can come with them, is what they will do with them. And what legacy they will leave. What legacy do you wish to earn for your name, Niklos Shahrizai?”

Niklos paused, the Queen’s question seeming innocuous. It wasn’t. Questions like that never were. He had considered it, certainly. Didn’t all aspire to some form of greatness or another? He had been quiet, and he had studied. His father had sent him to Tiberium to study at the University there for a time, and there were no books in his father’s library that were unread. And his father had made certain that he understood, in his bones, what he had learned. But she hadn’t asked what he wanted, she asked what legacy he wanted. There was a subtle difference there, and he hoped he could use it to his advantage.

His eyes snapped back into sharp focus as he smiled at her. “My legacy? I hope to be the counterpoint to Melisande Shahrizai. Where her legacy is treason, I wish mine to be trustworthiness.”

He never again wanted a Shahrizai to be suspected of what Melisande had been guilty of. Falsehood would never again wear black and gold. “It will take a lifetime of work. And some of our many relations in the nobility have always been jealous of us, merited or not, but the effort is worthwhile.” And incredibly appropriate for the holder of a minor county well within the Shahrizai duchy in Kusheth.

“And how will that work begin?” Resting her elbows on the arms of her chair, she laced her fingers carelessly together as she watched him. “You must have given it some thought. Beyond the cousins whispering in your ear and the aunts and uncles giving their advice, you on your own must have thought about how your tenure as Count could start. Regale me. If I choose to permit this succession and not stand in the way, how will you begin to prove your trustworthiness?”

He smiled faintly, almost pensively, and nodded to her. “I am here, Your Majesty. Yes, my family encouraged me to take up residence in The City, but I could have just as easily remained in Kusheth. I am present, I did not demur or delay your invitation, and I have not taken possession of property that is yours to grant. Duc Alexius is administering the property, awaiting your decision. We are a well-connected family, and I am doing what I might to reestablish the connections and friendships I have had in the past. Not all news passes through the Palace, Majesty, and some of that which does travel these halls may not reach your ears or the ears of His Highness. Political intrigue is a much safer game to play when you know you have the throne behind you, instead of opposite you.” He took a deep breath. This was a very deep game that could be played, and he had barely established himself on the board. He really needed to get back into the City and reacquaint himself with people.

He was pleased that it didn’t sound like the guards had moved yet, so there had been no hidden signal to restrain him, and he hadn’t threatened. But he wanted the access, and he wanted the information. Melisande had been visionary. The rest of the family, Niklos included, had no chance of matching her brilliance, but that very brilliance was her downfall. She needed to be the smartest person anywhere she had gone, and she desired the power that her brilliance had indicated could be hers. But brilliant people and powerful people were rarely one in the same: The brilliant frequently overlooked something miniscule that could bring them down, and those in power often had to resort to basic brute violence to remain there. Far better an understanding or agreement where both sides aided the other.

“So you offer to be my eyes and ears where neither my son or I may go,” Anielle said, knowing full well the ambitious lordling had said nothing of the sort. But it was a chance that she would extend as a first test. She knew better than to forget the snake in the grass, but a snake that she could direct was far more valuable. “It was that very subterfuge that damned your family before, but you have caught my attention, Niklos Shahrizai.”

She leveled her gaze at him, her voice regal and terrible as thunder as she spoke with the full weight, authority, and power of her throne. “Let us see what you do with this rope: climb or hang.”

Gustav, reading the Queen’s body language and understanding her play, finally moved. Crossing to stand at his place by the Queen’s right hand, he examined the Shahrizai with his blue-black hair and deep blue eyes, blue meeting blue as the cousins regarded each other. But there was enough established now that the rest would come, both Queen and Dauphin watching closely.

So Gustav gave the faintest smile that did not reach his eyes, saying only, “Congratulations, then, Count Shahrizai.”

A royal acknowledgement of the title. It settled on Niklos’ shoulders. There would be paperwork and official acceptance and court announcements, but it started here, with the Queen and the Dauphin seeing in him a noble ready for the title.

Niklos squared his shoulders as the Dauphin caught his eye. He grinned briefly, though the Dauphin’s eyes were cool. He bowed again to both of them, his own eyes dimming, as if looking at a sapphire at night. “My thanks to both of you, Majesties… cousins. I hope I will serve you well.” He bowed again, having recognized the dismissal, and backed away through the audience chamber, bowing once again at the door before exiting.

Anielle watched the door close and murmured quietly, “We will see.”

Royal Reunion

Underneath the shade cast by the royal canopy tent, Queen Anielle de la Courcel clasped her hands tightly to stop herself from wringing them. Her senechal had brought her the news that she had long been waiting for. Her son had returned to the City of Elua. For the first time in years, she would come face to face with the young man her second son had become.

The young men, weary from their days of travel, had been met at the palace by the Head Chamberlain, who greeted the first of the riders with a deep bow and a reverent, “Welcome home, Dauphin Gustav de la Courcel.”

Gustav’s horse danced under him, and Maël saw the tightening of the muscles in Gustav’s jaw that revealed the way he clenched his teeth before answering, “Thank you. It has been a long journey.”

“Baths are being prepared for you and your companions, Your Highness,” the Chamberlain said as ostlers came forward to take the horses while the young men dismounted. “Your mother will be informed and will surely wish to greet all three of you herself. Please, refresh yourselves, and we will bring you to the queen in due time.”

And so the three were separated—each to their respective suites. Sebastien was shown to the L’Envers suite his ducal family maintained; Maël was taken with heavy apologies to a guest suite done in the themes of Siovale, as the Rocaille family did not keep their apartments in the palace, preferring to maintain a townhouse on the edge of the noble district; and Gustav was shown to the suite kept for the Dauphin of Terre d’Ange. For as long as he had known them, they had been his brother’s rooms. Now they were his. All of the belongings from his chambers had already been moved, Daniel’s things long gone. That, more than anything, cut through Gustav’s carefully constructed defences. He sat down on the edge of the bed, breathing in the quiet stillness of the chambers that echoed with his life while his brother was dead, and closed his eyes against the onslaught of grief.

Eventually, he bathed and dressed himself in fresh clothes, joining his companions at the terrace overlooking the garden. And the royal tent that was there on the far side of the carefully sculpted hedges and beds.

The queen waited, her gown still the deep color of mourning, her dark hair covered still in the translucent gossamer veil beneath her simple circlet. She did not pace, she stood still and looked out over the rolling hills of the rest of the grounds, the palace behind her. The servants had set out a bowl of fresh fruit and a blown glass carafe of light wine, something to welcome the queen’s guests. And she did hear them coming, the crunch of boots on the path getting closer and closer.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned to survey the young men who came to her canopy. Sebastien L’Envers, tall and lean with a fencer’s grace and dark violet eyes. Another young man, one her steward had said was Maël de Rocaille, nephew to the Count who maintained the Université de Rocaille, with his clever smile and bright brown eyes under his auburn hair. And then: her son.

Gustav had the Courcel blue eyes. She remembered how they had blinked sleepily up at her when the music had him dozing on her lap. His hair had been blond, like his grandmother Sidonie’s, but had darkened as the years passed into a deep honey shade that sometimes looked like burnished bronze when the sun hit it just right. He walked with the confidence of a young man, but without the swagger of arrogance. His shoulders were broad, his build lean like Sebastien’s but more restrained, without the flourishes of Sebastien’s fencer’s style. He resembled his grandmother, a true Courcel.

He bowed to her, his companions following suit, with a murmur in unison, “Your Majesty.”

The Queen slid her royal mask over her face and smiled at the three of them. “Rise, please. My lords, thank you for escorting the Dauphin safely home. Please enjoy the gardens while I have a moment with my son.”

However, in a move that prickled deliberately at her pride, she watched the two noblemen rise and glance at her son, as though waiting for his permission. Gustav gave his friends a small nod and only then – only then! – did they take the three steps back to leave the royals alone under the pavilion tent. And Anielle, speaking in the fresh flare of the sting, said crisply to her son, “Well, you seem to have become accustomed already to the command of authority.”

Her son looked at her, his face blank, and he replied, “Madam, I have returned to the city as you bade me. I present myself to you as required. I serve at the pleasure of Her Majesty, the Queen, as do all of her loyal subjects.”

The distance in his tone was a fresh wound anew, and she forced herself to swallow her hurt, putting it aside and gentling her voice to say, “Forgive me. I have missed you, my son. Please, sit with me. Tell me of these last years.”

Gustav remained standing, his hands clasped loosely at an easy courtier’s rest, giving his report impersonally. “I have endeavored to succeed in all of my studies, learning languages and history as well as tactics and philosophy. I have read the writings of the great thinkers from Hellas in the original Hellene and studied the epic poetries of Hellas and Caerdicca Unitas. I have found a particular interest in astronomy and tracking the movements of the stars, as it draws on the legends of the constellations as well as the earthy science of the mathematical calculations of the rotations of the skies. I have done my best to study everything that could serve me well in service to my queen and country.”

“Surely you have done me proud,” Anielle said, pouring herself some of the wine to cover the way her fingers trembled. “I have read each of your letters recording your academic successes, I have kept them all. But you have been many years away from me. I would like to know the man you are now.”

“Rest assured, Your Majesty, I am become a man that will serve the country loyally and with all that I am as the new Dauphin.”

“Tell me of your companions,” his mother said, some desperate grief in her heart at the formal way he still spoke to her. “How did you meet them?”

“His Grace, the Duc L’Envers, introduced himself to me when I arrived at the University,” he said. “As a more senior student, he was more than willing to help me learn the locations of my classes and how best to impress the professors. Lord Maël, due to his upbringing within the university itself, often serves as assistant to the professors. He offered me some advice in strengthening my performance in a particularly difficult class and has proven himself not only intelligent but a true friend. They are good men both, I am honored to have their friendship.”

“Good friendships are all the more valuable for those with the responsibility of leadership,” Anielle said, lowering herself to sit at the table with her wine. “I hope your friendships with them only continue to grow, Gustav, I truly do.”

She watched him with her Courcel blue eyes before releasing a heavy sigh. “Gustav, my son, I will not force you to speak with me if you do not wish to. But I have missed you, and I am glad you are home. Your sister will likewise be thrilled to see you. She read your letters every moment of the day when they came, memorising every word. Will you visit with her?”

“Of course. When will we speak of the new responsibilities of my title?”

“You have been travelling for the better part of a month, you may rest before we look to the future of the kingdom,” she said wearily. “Take some days to yourself, remember these palace halls and the city, then we will speak again about what is next, Dauphin Gustav.”

She covered her eyes with her hand, her heart heavy as stone, and she heard more than saw her son – her son! – give her a courtier’s bow, murmuring, “By your leave, Your Majesty.”

Gustav turned away from the half-stranger who was his mother, stepping out of the canopy and into the garden. He had only taken three steps before the first figure emerged from the hedges. Maël was silent, and only stepped into place at his friend’s left shoulder. Another four steps and Sebastien joined them. The three walked silently through the gardens, along a meandering way back toward the palace before the Dauphin, Crown Prince of Terre d’Ange and heir to the Courcel throne, stopped.

“Maël,” he said quietly, “I need your help.”

“Anything.”

“There’s somewhere I need to go in the city, someone I need to see. I want to get there quietly and subtly. Find a way to get me out of the palace and across the city without the entire court knowing, please.”

Sebastien’s L’Envers violet eyes watched his friend. “Causing trouble already, Gustav?”

Maël only smiled. “Oh good! Time to have some fun!”

Fate and Fortune Tossed

The bay horse danced impatiently under its rider as he drew the animal to a stop at the crest of the hill. Head tossing and black mane flaring, it tugged on the reins, wanting to run. This easy, measured pace of traveling was not nearly exciting enough for the horse, nor its rider.

“Take heart, friends,” Maël de Rocaille called back to his travelling companions. “We have made the river!”

The two other riders picked their way along the trail, reining their horses to a stop beside their friend, as together they looked down at the lush banks of the Aviline River flowing patiently onward toward the sea.

“A welcome sight,” Sebastien L’Envers said, flexing his hand in his riding glove to stretch the cramped muscles that had been holding the reins. His dark eyes scanned the rest of the hills before them, picking out traces of paths that would make the passage easier. “From here we turn north, follow the river, and soon enough we will get you home.”

The third rider did not share his companions’ pleasure in seeing the river. They had been skirting the southern edge of the central mountains and plateaus for ten days, and it would be another ten days of travel through the river valley before they would see the gates of the capital city. He wished it were another month of travel. He had no desire to return to the city, not after the news had come. He had requested the longer journey through the lowlands around the southern edge of the highlands instead of cutting across the mountains and plateaus, trying to buy himself as much time as he could. But he could not delay forever.

His mother’s letter, tucked into the breast of his simple jerkin, was well worn from countless rereadings of her perfect penmanship. But the artful swirls of her calligraphy did not make the words any sweeter.

From Her Majesty by the Grace of Elua, Sovereign of Terre d’Ange, Queen Anielle de la Courcel to His Royal Highness, Prince Gustav de la Courcel.

My son,

Ever do those who bear the responsibility of leadership have to carry the burdens of the people they lead without choice but to sacrifice the needs of their heart and emotion for the strength to caretake the needs of the many. I wish I could write to you with the warmth and comfort of a mother and offer assurances that all will be well. But I must set those desires aside in favor of the strength of the crown that calls me to duty first.

The Dauphin, Daniel de la Courcel, heir to my throne and crown, has passed to the True Terre d’Ange That Lies Beyond, waiting for us to join him when it is our time. The plague has taken much from all of us and left those behind to deal with the unexpected and uncertain future. Your country needs you, Prince Gustav, to rise to take the place left by our fallen Dauphin. As you are the second-born of my children, the responsibility of the royal succession now falls to you.

Return to the City of Elua at once. It is time to take your place as Dauphin and prepare for your future as King of Terre d’Ange when my time is finished. The country needs you, you cannot fail them. We will speak of duties, responsibilities, and what you must learn from me when you return to the palace.

Signed,

Your mother, Anielle de la Courcel

The death of his brother was enough to bear on its own but to now face a future he never thought would come to him? He had enjoyed his years at the Rocaille University, studying whatever he wanted to study, expanding his education and knowledge of whatever caught his interest. He had made friends there, real friendships not borne of ambitious hunger or empty flattery. And in an instant, with one letter, it had all changed. The entire trajectory of his life was altered.

“Gustav?”

He came back to himself and looked up at his friends. There was a look of concern on Sebastien L’Envers’s handsome face, the purple in his eyes dark as the wine-dark sea. Maël kept his seat as his horse danced, but there was a quiet sadness in his hazel eyes. The world had changed around them, these three young men, and what they had to help them navigate it right now was each other.

“We’re with you in this, Gustav,” Sebastien said softly.

“You will one day be our king,” Maël said, stroking his gloved hand soothingly down his horse’s neck. “But we started as friends. Good friends. That will not change.”

Setting heels to their horses’ flanks, the three noblemen cantered down the hill to turn up the river, back to where the City of Elua waited for them.

A Heavy Crown and a Heavier Heart (Storyline Reset)

The events of the storyline have reset! Our characters are returned to the beginning of our story to live it again. Read on to set the scene for this year’s adventures!

It had been a terrible plague. It had come from seemingly nowhere, they had had such little warning from the countryside before it had come to the city and Queen Anielle de la Courcel had done the best she could to work with the chirurgeons, the parliament, and the guild assembly to do what they could to stop the spread of the plague.

But she could not stop it all, and so very many had died.

No parent should have to bury their child.

She mourned. No matter how heavy the crown was on her head, her heart was heavier. Her firstborn, her dear son Daniel…

A tear dripped from her lashes to drop onto the sash of the window where she stood in her mourning gown, looking out at the City of Elua sprawled out beneath the royal palace without really seeing the view. Daniel had been so loved, and she had taken great pains to make sure he was ready for the responsibility that would one day pass to him.

But now, he was interred in the family crypt, sleeping beside his ancestors, and his mother was left to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and look forward into an uncertain future.

She had another son, her darling Gustav. He was a sweet soul, kind and gentle. He had been born the “spare,” certainly, but she still loved him dearly, even if she hadn’t invested as much time in his schooling. Daniel had been the crown prince, Gustav would have had more freedom to do as he pleased in his life. But now…

She glanced down at the letter held in her hand. It was clinical and distant, it had to be. The Queen of Terre d’Ange was calling one of her subjects back to the city. Her second son had been sent to the university in Siovale years ago to study as he pleased, and he wrote dutiful letters every two weeks about his studies, his professors, and how he was applying himself to his courses, but she knew precious little of the young man he had become. Once, he had been a boy with bright blue eyes who sat on her lap and listened to the music the court musicians played for them. She remembered how he had run after the balls as the little family had enjoyed lawn bowling in the gardens. Gustav had idolised his older brother, and Daniel had endured his younger brother’s exuberance with loving patience that had shown Anielle he would have been a good king.

And now, she was sending a letter ordering her second son home. There needed to be a crown prince declared. The line of succession needed to be clear.

But she knew that when Gustav de la Courcel returned to the city, he would be a stranger to her.