The future Comte de Reynolds Lucian is sent to Val Royeux to learn the proper etiquette and skills of an Orlesian Nobleman, under his mentor the famed Duke Paul De Leon. Upon his arrival in the sprawling capital of the empire he soon discovers a city mired by conspiracy and murder, and a disgruntled faction of the nobility obsessed with regaining the empires power and standing. With his mentors help Lucian must learn the ways of the nobility and foil the conspirators plot before it can threaten the empires future.
Characters
Lucian De Reynolds- Son and heir of the Comte Augustus De Reynolds
Duke Paul De Leon-A powerful Orlesian Statesman and personal confidant to the Empress Celene I herself. A famed War hero and veteran of the Occupation of Ferelden.
Mathieu Giscard-A famed artist and Lover of the Marquis De Leon
Gerard “le Bastarde” Aristide- a bard and occasional contact of Paul De Leon
Laurentis De Courcey- A powerful Duke from the Arlesans, head of the conspiracy to start new wars against the enemies of Orlais
Phillipe “the Black”- the King of Assasins and personal murderer of Duke De Courcey
Marie-Eloise-Lauren d’Andelot- the niece of the powerful duke Ferdinand De Regis and love interest of Lucian.
Chapter 1: Introductions
The De Reynolds were by no means the most wealthy or titled of Orlais’ countless noble families, they were not even all that well known outside of their estates in the Montsimmard region. What the De Reynolds did have in their favour was an uncanny ability to play the high stakes game of politics and choose the winning side.
During the Summer war they had backed the right claimant and been awarded their first estates and titles, and there support of Celene I in her bid for the throne had been equally rewarded with rising status and countless new friends in very high places. The De Reynolds may not have been the most well-known noble line, but their list of contacts and allies stretched all the way to the Imperial court.
For the Comte De Reynolds sole son and Heir, Lucian, this list of contacts ensured his fostering to one of the oldest and most powerful dynasty’s in the empire. The powerful De Leon family in Val Royeux were legendary for their participation in every imperial war since the time of Drakon and their current head Duke Paul de Leon had the ear of the empress herself.
For his father’s support of Celene during the squabbles over the imperial throne Lucian had been rewarded with a chance to receive the best tutelage and education money and influence could buy, he was headed to Val Royeux were he would be mentored by the duke himself surrounded the splendour and pageantry of the Imperial Court. If he survived such an education his family would rise to new heights of power and influence.
The long journey from his family estates to the capital was nearing its end after weeks of travel from the empires boarder. The knight’s escort keeping an ever watchful eye over their young charge, Lucian sat in the carriage with the windows open, the young noble was more excited and at the same time terrified then at any other time in his short life. And how could he not be? He was mere hours away from the largest and most magnificent city in all the world, the thought of such a vast landscape of stone and glass was daunting even to a child born in a city as large as Montsimmard.
“We should be approaching the city soon my lord” Ser Alric said as he rode alongside the carriage with his visor raised
The knights all bore the heraldry of prominent soldier houses from the city of Montsimmard, they were all oath sworn to guard the young Lucian with their lives and such oaths were taken with the utmost seriousness. If they failed the Comte De Reynolds could have terrible punishments exacted upon their families.
“Do we know where to go when we arrive in the city?” Lucian asked, his nervousness showing in his voice slightly…he secretly wondered how anyone would be able to find their way in such a vast city
Ser Alric chuckled knowingly “nervous eh? Not to worry my lord it is not my first time in the capital, the way to the Palais De leon is easy enough to find” he replied with a comforting smile
As they grew closer to the city gates the roads became more crowded, peasant workers, traders and members of the Chantry mingled with soldiers and pilgrims. The appearance of a nobleman’s carriage with knight’s escort caused more than one of these countless other travellers to cast a glance towards the young noble.
Lucian was not fazed by such attentions, he had been raised in a noble house and such attentions were considered an exercise in good manners on the part of the peasantry, in fact he would have been offended if they did not glance towards him.
Lucian wondered if he would elicit such looks from the cities nobility, would they look down on him? His family was not nearly as wealthy or titled as the old lines that called Val Royeux. But he smirked and thought that at very least he had his looks. His hair a golden blonde and eyes a sea green shade, his face filled with youthful mischief and his figure athletic after years of training on the jousting field. At very least he could hope to gain a fleeting glance from the noble daughters…he hoped so anyway.
“There she is, Val Royeux, Jewel of the empire!” Ser Alric said pointing his lance towards the shimmering horizon
A golden sun illuminated the city making it glow like a bejewelled crown, towers and vast domes rose high above the cities huge walls and seemed to reach up into the sky like hands raised towards the maker himself. Great flocks of birds swooped across the skyline in graceful formations and pennants and banners of every colour fluttered in the breeze, Lucian could not find words to describe such a sight…
“She is beautiful no?” Ser Alric said with a knowing look
Lucian merely nodded and continued to stare at the city as it grew closer. Soon they would pass through the city gates and then ride on down paved streets towards the splendour of the noble district.
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By the time they reached the Palais De Leon the sun had begun to set slowly in the evening sky, the noble districts countless estates and palais were like tiny cities all of their own, and few could match the De Leon residence in either size or brilliance.
Duke Paul was known across the empire for his heroism on the battlefield and for his famed support of the Empress in her bid for the throne, it was said that few men could ever hope to achieve in their lifetimes what he had in mere decades. His home reflected his status and power.
The palais de Leon was an enormous stone compound complete with its own fortifications and gate. It was a simply adorned building that reflected its owner’s military heritage; it lacked the ostentatious decoration and extravagant design of many of the other estates and instead opted for solid and consistent architecture in the style of a vast fortress.
This Palais was perhaps a message in itself, That The De Leon’s did not need gilded dressings or complex stonework to convey their importance, a statement that the De Leon line was built of strong and hardy materials that would never weaken even as the ridiculous villa’s and estates of other lesser nobles began to decline into rot and neglect.
Lucian’s arrival was announced by Ser Alric and the gates swung open with little noise or fanfare. In fact what was surprising as they rode into the courtyard was the distinct lack of people. No heralds or trumpets to greet the young g lord as he descended the carriage step, no courtiers and no pages, just a greying man with paint stained arms with a warm smile and wealthy clothes that seemed just as stained with paint and chalk as the man’s skin.
“Duke De Leon!” Lucian said bowing respectfully as he did
The man smiled nervously as if Lucian had done something embarrassing and nodded his head with a sigh, he had a pleasant face that had very few wrinkles or signs of stress and seemed more at home with laughter then sorrows. His eyes were a deep blue and had a thoughtful expression to them.
“Rise my young lord I am afraid the duke is away on important business, he assures me he will be back in time for the evening feast” the man said with a slightly embarrassed tone
Lucian was surprised by this news as much as he was by the lack of ceremony greeting him on arrival, he sighed inwardly, it was more than likely that the duke was a busy man and his absence would at least give Lucian time to acquaint himself with his new home.
“And you are sir? “Lucian asked
“Ah how rude of me my lord! I am Mathieu Giscard, a painter and…confidant of the duke” he replied
The Giscard name was known across the empire as much as that of Duke Pauls, he was a painter of unparalled skill whose works had been hailed as visions of beauty and majesty worthy enough to attract even the divines attentions. The duke kept storied company that much was apparent.
“But enough of such tiresome formalities, come let me show you the Palais, the duke would be disappointed if his guest was not attended to” Mathieu said with an ushering hand
A Friend of Painters and empresses and owner of palaces of size to rival great castles…this duke was formidable…but where was he?
“And the duke will not be home before the feast?” Lucian asked unable to resist
Mathiue smirked and gave Lucian a look that seemed to suggest that more was occurring then he knew
“I suspect the good duke will…have his hands tied so to speak...” the painter said before leading him inside the palais
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The blow smashed into Paul’s gut like a battering ram to a city gate and was followed by mocking laughter that seemed to bounce from wall to wall of the inns mouldering side room. Three men stood over him as he sat bound to a wooden chair, two drunken thugs one of whom still wore his navy coat and a third man dressed in the attire of a noble messenger despite his portly size. They were all armed with short swords and knives but they seemed content to have fun with their knuckles for the moment.
“Duke Paul De Leon, Hero of Orlais and empress’s loyal dog! I wonder if she will make you a prince when they find your corpse in the gutter eh? The funeral will likely be a fine sight, plenty of crying noble daughters to console eh boys?!” he said with a filthy laugh as his thuggish underlings chuckled nastily.
Paul grinned blood running down the side of his mouth “perhaps but I suspect it will be your funeral before mine and I wonder how many toothless ****s your fellows will desire to console” Paul said with vicious smile
The far courier laughed loudly at this and pretended to be amused even as he drove his fist into Paul’s gut for a second time and then across his face before turning to leave
“As much as I have enjoyed your company my lord I really must be going” the fat courier said leaving the room, he stopped and turned to the tall lanky underling in the tattered navy coat “finish him off when you get bored and then dispose of the body” the courier said before leaving the room
The door slammed shut and Paul was left alone with the two thugs who stared at him with cruel looks, they were brutal men who enjoyed nothing more than committing acts of violence upon vulnerable and defenceless victims.
The tall thug in the navy coat strode over to Pauls chair and then stared down at him with a smirk “so “my lord” “he said with a mocking emphasis on the final words, leaning in close enough that Paul could smell his wine stained breath and see his rotting teeth in their blackened gums.
“Any final words?” the thug asked
Paul smiled and leaned forward to whisper in the thug’s ear “the navy should have taught you to tie better knots my friend!” he said
The knife punched deep into the thug’s neck as Paul rose from his chair and kicked aside his would be bindings. The thug looked up his eyes filled with confusion and surprise as he began to shake and gurgle and blood began to ooze from his neck.
The second thug, a short man with a scarred face and leather vest covered in patches, who had been momentarily stunned by the prisoners sudden assault drew his sword and let out a screamed as he rushed towards Paul. Paul grabbed the dying thug and threw him at his charging companion knocking him to the ground.
Paul turned quickly and grasped something cold and hard that had been resting upon the crates next to his chair, it was his sword, a prized weapon forged in Halamshiral many years ago. He had carried it with him in every battle he had ever fought from Ferelden to its use in the many dirty tasks of an agent of the court. He raised the blade its blade inlaid with golden writing flashing in the torchlight, the weight perfectly balanced in his experienced grip, and advanced towards the fallen thug who now scrambled to rise from the ground.
Paul knocked the downed thug’s blade aside with a single swing of his sword and then thrust his blade into the man’s chest before prizing the blade free and rushing through the room door. Paul checked the long wooden corridor outside of the store room; he was in an inn’s lower levels that much he knew, he rushed for the stairs hoping to catch the fat courier before he left.
As he opened the creaking door at the top of the stairs he found himself standing in the middle of a vast drinking house, the thugs he had been tracking frequented this squalor ridden establishments in the cities poor districts and the poverty of his surroundings was made abundantly clear by the presence of seedy ragged and brutal looking men everywhere.
The smoke and noise of the alehouse continued even as Paul walked from the door into the sea of unsavoury characters that populated the building. Cheap musicians played on the stage to an apathetic crowd more interested in playing cards or getting besotted with drink or a nearby **** in foul smelling perfumes.
Paul who had already hid his sword began to scan the bar, he wondered if the courier had been stupid enough to stay, it seemed the courier had been confident in his ability to end Paul’s life because he now sat at the bar drinking whatever swill passed for ale from a rusting tankard and letting it spill down his bear and tunic as he consumed it in greedy piggish gulps.
“Really my friend I thought you had better taste” Paul said grinning as the courier dropped his tankard and turned to stare at him.
The courier screamed and began to run, knocking down shelves and furniture as he did in an effort to slow Paul. Paul turned to see all the taverns eyes on him before clambering over the overturned furniture and out the inns open door.
The streets outside were muddy and unpaved, he was in one of the cities many filth encrusted poor districts and as he rushed down the street he passed countless damp and decaying hovels. People in tattered cloths filled the busy street, beggars sat in gutters with hands raised imploring passer-by’s for charity and peasants in dirty attire gazed at the suspect wares of the men who passed for merchants in this part of town.
The fat courier was in front, running surprisingly fast for man of his size, Paul shoved past the crowds of people and raced to catch his target. The courier was fleeing with all the speed he could muster, but as Paul drew closer he began to tire. He tried to run down a nearby alleyway to avoid Paul, but the Duke slowed and walked down the darkened alley. The courier had run into a dead end.
The fat courier tried to clamber over the moss covered wall in front of him but all this achieved was soaked clothing and a sliding fall that landed him on his backside. He dragged himself up and began to claw desperately at the wall before turning to see Paul standing right in front of him with sword drawn.
“It would appear you’ve hit the wall so to speak, now enough games! Tell me what you know!” Paul said grabbing the courier and pressing the point against his neck
The Courier spat in Paul’s face and laughed mockingly “you think anything you can do to me with that sword would match what my employer would do to me if I told you! You too late! You and your pathetic empress will be swept aside when our forces reclaim the empire! Orlais will be strong again and reborn in the forge of Conquest!” he said laughing madly
Paul smiled and punched the courier in the face with the pommel of his sword, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch and a spray of blood, the courier screamed and Paul hauled him up.
“Small men like to talk bravely, but I find that their words do little to protect them when I go to work, I wonder how brave you will be without a hand? Shall we find out…eh?” Paul said pressing the couriers hand against the wall and raising his sword to strike.
The courier struggled and fought as best he could but he was weak from the chase and all his remaining strength allowed him to do was squirm weakly in Paul’s vice like grip.
“I’ll ask one more time tell me what you know!” Paul yelled
“Go drown yourself in a latrine lordling!” the courier snarled
Paul let the blade fall stopping just before the couriers hand as he began to scream and beg for mercy
“No please! Alright I’ll tell you! Just don’t take my hand!” the courier bellowed fear and tears filling his eyes
Paul withdrew his blade and shoved the courier against the wall before moving back
“Go on then, start at the beginning who is leading this plot and what orders did they give you, and be quick!” paul said sword still trained on the courier
The courier leaned against the wall his bruised head resting on soaking moss as he opened his mouth and began to speak in the weak and weary voice of a beaten man.
“we don’t know who he is, just that he’s some rich nobleman who pays good money to anyone who serves him, he sent me an others orders, wants us to spread chaos in Orlais didn’t say why just informed us all by letter that it would end in a stronger Orlais….one where we would be running things” the courier replied
Political murders with odd patterns and rumours of intrigue within the ruling families at court had aroused Paul’s suspicion months ago. With the fifth blight over and neighbouring Ferelden weaker than before many nobles were eager to return to the empires aggressive days as an invader, there were many warlike factions in Orlais…but this one seemed more extreme than the usual rabble and...It was willing to kill to achieve its goals.
A conspiracy was brewing and it had bards and nobles alike whispering of treason and plots hidden beneath the surface. These thugs had been a lead for Paul and had confirmed his worst suspicion; an organised conspiracy was on the rise. It had been only recently that a number of peace seeking nobles eager for cordial relations with Ferelden had been murdered brutally in the heart of their estates and palais, it seemed they might be linked after all.
“How did this “employer” want you to spread chaos?” Paul asked
“He told us to stir up the poor against the nobility and murder guards and nobles, had us hiring mercenaries and killers all over the city…that’s all I know I swear, I’m just a messenger! “ the courier said holding his bleeding nose in a tired hand as he pleaded for the questions to end.
Paul seemed convinced and moved forward to grab the courier by the shoulder and push him forward with the swords point prodding his back
“Okay then it’s the Imperial Constables' dungeon for you!” Paul said leading the courier towards the exit of the alleyway
Something screeched through the air and Paul ducked against the wall as a crossbow bolt narrowly missed him, the courier was not so lucky and he collapsed face down in the mud a bolt buried in the back of his head and blood running towards a nearby gutter.
Paul stared up at the rooftops, but whoever had shot at them was gone, he hauled himself up and checked the courier’s pockets, pulling out a stained note, it had a strange seal on it that of a dire wolf carrying a crown in its mouth. He didn’t recognize the symbol so he decided to pocket the note and take to someone who did.
He stared down at the slain courier and sighed “I suppose not then” he said stepping over the corpse as it began to rain.
************************************
Lucian had seen barely half of the palais when the news came that the duke had returned, by this time it was dark and the torches were being lit across the palais to ward away the darkness. This time both Mathieu and several members of the household including the Seneschal were present in the courtyard as the duke rode in.
The duke was a tall man despite being well into his late forties, his hair was slowly changing from blonde to grey and his weather-beaten face seemed to speak volumes, he had the hard eyes that one would expect of a man who had seen war and death in its worst form and the grey shade of his eyes seemed to have a steely look about it.
He wore simple but high quality clothing that was unadorned with no noble markings anywhere to be seen, his brown riding cloak and knee high boots were covered in mud and Lucian wondered were such a titled man would become so filthy.
“Welcome back my lord!” Mathieu said with a warm smile
The duke’s face softened visibly as he climbed from his horse and embraced the painter “I thought we agreed not to use titles at home” Paul said with a grin
“But surely we should be using proper etiquette in the presence of our guest” Mathieu said turning to look at Lucian
The duke turned also to look upon his would be charge and Lucian felt suddenly nervous of the attention he was receiving, peasants were one thing but those grey eyes seemed to bore into Lucian’s soul.
The Duke suddenly softened his gaze and smiled slightly when he realized the boy was aware of the duke’s cold stare.
“Lucian De Reynolds, your father speaks highly of you, welcome to my home…which will now be your home “Paul said with a smile
Paul had always been a deceptive sort when it came to appearances, his experiences in Ferelden and court had taken their toll on his face giving him a hardened look, but despite the horrors he had witnessed in war and court he was far from the steely eyed terror that the bards painted him as.
“My lord duke, it’s an honour to finally meet you!” Lucian said bowing
“No need for all that now boy, there will be plenty of time for etiquette and kowtowing when we visit court, now come its late and I have a belly to fill!” Paul said as they moved towards the hall
“Why are you covered in mud Paul?” Mathieu asked with a puzzled look
“We’ll speak later, I have much to tell you” Paul said as they left the darkened courtyard
Lucian followed the duke inside head filled with confusion, he had expected someone far different, this duke whose exploits the bards sang tales of did not seem to fit Lucian’s image, this was the man who they say had slain countless Ferelden rebels? Who had been the Empresses champion? The reality left Lucian unsure whether he was disappointed or surprised.
Modifié par westiex9, 28 juin 2011 - 02:53 .
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