Setting
Away from the raucous Docklands and stretching along the Imperial Causeway to higher ground and the Merlen Gate, this is where the wealthy peers of Imperial R????e have their City homes. Bougainvillea grows in enormous profusion here, competing furiously with frangipani flowers, honeysuckles, jasmine and encyclia.
Montclair Palace is not the highest house in the district, and nor is it the largest in terms of floor space, being of rather modest dimensions when compared with the rambling estate of the Basiltons, for instance. Instead, it is possessed of spacious and shapely gardens in formal array rather than impressing with sheer bulk. What makes it the main landmark of the district, however, is the fact that Montclair Palace???s roof tiles, spires and domes are all gilded, the only building in the district, and one of the only ones in the city which is (the other is Illunia???s grand temple in the Fane.)
Basilton Manse is certainly the largest of the great houses in Jinjen, a marbled colossus rising smugly behind walls and two great gates. A small army of a security force guards it and the paranoid patriarch of the family inside. Basilton???s factor is the one largely responsible for filling the vast shell with beautiful carpets, tapestries, tables and objets d???art at his master???s insistence. With the fabled wealth of the House behind him, he is able to acquire more or less whatever he wants.
Rookwood's city home is on the very outskirts of this district.
Montclair Palace is not the highest house in the district, and nor is it the largest in terms of floor space, being of rather modest dimensions when compared with the rambling estate of the Basiltons, for instance. Instead, it is possessed of spacious and shapely gardens in formal array rather than impressing with sheer bulk. What makes it the main landmark of the district, however, is the fact that Montclair Palace???s roof tiles, spires and domes are all gilded, the only building in the district, and one of the only ones in the city which is (the other is Illunia???s grand temple in the Fane.)
Basilton Manse is certainly the largest of the great houses in Jinjen, a marbled colossus rising smugly behind walls and two great gates. A small army of a security force guards it and the paranoid patriarch of the family inside. Basilton???s factor is the one largely responsible for filling the vast shell with beautiful carpets, tapestries, tables and objets d???art at his master???s insistence. With the fabled wealth of the House behind him, he is able to acquire more or less whatever he wants.
Rookwood's city home is on the very outskirts of this district.
Jinjen District
The glittering noble district of the capital, it is here that the Finest Families have their town residences, drowning amid flowers.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
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southeast |
Jinjen District is a part of 
The Imperial City.
2 Characters Here
Ackarus [0] The most feared assassin of Rise, he serves only his own interests and those who can afford the steep price of his skill. It is said he can reach anyone, anywhere - even the Empress herself.
Ageo Thrushwhistle [0] The strange and slightly enigmatic court jester and chamberlain to the Empress of Rise.
Start Character Here »
Setting
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[Montclair Palace, Larsus’ Study]
Contrary to all propaganda, and indeed, first impressions from a distance, the Imperial Capital was not a nice place. So reflected Larsus Montclair as he sank back into a plush purple armchair.
Dramatic lighting threw the room into high relief and deep shadow, golden lights from the morning sun sparkling through a thousand lead-lined panes and tripping into a quintet of heavy crystal decanters on a sideboard. One of them was half-full of a dark, smoky liquid – a brandy, most probably, knowing Larsus’ tastes.
The gold shards of light sparkled on heavy inkwells and shards of paper, glowed on dusky plants, burned on the curves of burnished Canova bronzes and were drunk into oblivion by the dark, sombre panelling. They surrounded the room’s occupant in a fiery halo, his pale hair glowing.
The windows were open, letting in the smells and sounds of the city – although both were commuted slightly by their passage over the walls and expanse of formal gardens that surrounded Montclair Palace. This might have been tempting to an assassin, but there were several obstacles in the way of such an eventuality – a sure sign that no imbecile had taken the reins of House Montclair.
First, there were the Montclair private security forces, patrolling the decorative walls, gardens and guarding both the gates and the doors in a random, unpredictable pattern. Their equipment was good, their swords well-used – and the best assassins wouldn’t put it past the bastard of a Duke to have put archers and sharpshooters on his parapets as a further deterrent. These would all have to be avoided, neutralized or stunned by a prodigious amount of money before considering the second line of defence.
Second, the stonework of the Palace itself was kept in very good repair, affording very few handholds on its sheer walls. The occasional carving, frieze or bas-relief might provide an anchorage point, but the prospective killer would then be exposed to anyone who cared to see him, and riddled with arrows or the new black-powder bullets.
Thirdly, although the window was open, Montclair’s desk faced it in such a way as to be out of direct firing range but still seeing anything coming through it – any assassin would only have one shot, because there was an emergency bellpull beside the heavy desk and Montclair was known to move like a snake.
Fourth, directly beneath Montclair’s study, a tangle of poison sumac, pyracantha, sisal and an enormous Flying Dragon plant has grown and been subtly encouraged by his gardener-slaves – a truly nasty concoction for anyone to drop into, or try and climb through.
In theory, then, Larsus Montclair wants for nothing; his life is theoretically free from worry and doubt about such mundane things as where the next meal is coming from.
Larsus Montclair leaned back in his armchair once more, the sheets of paper in front of him untouched. Sensitive ears sifted and processed the muted sounds; the faint hubbub of the city – a particularly shrill merchantier’s cry, the creak of a cart and the lash of a whip, all comfortingly familiar – as well as the jingling of the armour of the guards patrolling outside.
The seventh Duke of Coldharbour and Myrantia was currently wrestling with several rather knotty problems, and had little time to spare for the glories of the city outside.
Firstly, there was his recent dedication to Foto and Illunia, the Lovers. Far from being a quiet choice, Arborea’s priests had reacted with near-apoplexy – naturally, they’d been expecting to net a sixth generation of Montclairs, given Arborea’s importance to the farmers which were the lifeblood of Myrantia.
Unfortunately for them, Larsus Montclair was not of any sort of temperament to appreciate nature – beyond something to hunt in – and had found Arborea’s priests, when he paid a courtesy call on their temple – to be insufferably arrogant about his joining the ranks of their dedicates, holding it to be an inevitability rather than a possibility.
Larsus was still young enough to do something different out of pure spite and contrariness, even had he not been decidedly lukewarm towards the goddess of Nature. The Huntsman, Necine, Arborea’s consort, was also out – House Derik honoured him, and to have Montclair and Derik together was not to be borne.
Hydra, the Duchess of the Fathoms, had been a distinct possibility; after all, she was Patron of the Dark Fleet and a passion for sailing ran deep in the Montclair blood, but in the end, Larsus had settled (controversially; his libertine ancestor Duke Aubrey had done the same) on the Lovers.
He found he rather liked their easygoing natures and readiness to help. Plus, of course – he blushed – the Bacchanalia and Chase were fun; and as a dedicate he couldn’t excuse himself on account of work, or be forced to do so, which was a definite bonus.
The farmers might not like it, Arborea’s priesthood might not like it, half his own family might not like it, but by the Lovers the choice of dedication was supposed to be a personal one, not political! Larsus smiled wryly as the thought occurred to him; everything the patriarch of a noble House did was political.
It was the Great Game, the Unacknowledged Sport, played by everyone who was anyone in the Imperial Capital and beyond. ‘Be a player, not a pawn,’ was the unofficial motto of every House in Ríše.
His second problem was, therefore, how, exactly, to go about re-establishing House Montclair’s pre-eminence among the noble Houses; while nothing could erode the power of ‘the Duke of Coldharbour and Myrantia’ to open doors, a long decline under his father’s ailing leadership had done nothing for other lines of access.
Perhaps the solution, then, was to get in touch with all the old allies of House Montclair, all the various relatives and dependents in the Ministries of the capital, throw lavish parties and announce with a very loud and expensive bang that House Montclair was going to reclaim its former pre-eminence among the Houses.
Of course, a silent, lower-profile manoeuvre might also be preferable – one should never show one’s full strength, after all. Larsus sighed. So many decisions, so little time...
And then, to cap it all, there was the matter of Lady Faye. The stream of callers to Montclair Palace – mostly doe-eyed swains of one flavour or another – was driving him, and doubtless the servants of the household, to distraction.
Speaking of...the noises of the city outside suddenly redoubled, coupled with jingling noises and the sounds of chariots thundering across flagstones. Larsus stood up abruptly, murder in his heart.
If there was one more suitor...
Oh. He stood at the window and stared as one of the Legions of Ríše thundered into the city, their armours glittering and beaming in the sun. Their shields had been polished to a burnished shine, their swords and spears glinted unbearably in the hot, tropical sun.
'Well. Bugger this,' Larsus thought. 'I’ve been cooped up in here for far too long. A breath of fresh air will doubtless do me good, and I’m sure Uncle Titus mentioned something about the Legion, too.'
Larsus returned to his desk, picking up and absently sliding on all his rings. While they looked very impressive; purple tanzanites, amethysts and gold, they did make it rather hard to write and so often found themselves scattered across the study desks, acting as impromptu paperweights. It wouldn’t do to appear in public without them, though.
“You,” he snapped peremptorily at one of the twin footmen that stood outside his doors. “Go and find Danforth. Tell him I want a palanquin for two ready to go by the time I get to the entrance hall, and have him send a runner to the House Guards for an escort.”
A slightly unreasonable request, perhaps, given the short distance from Larsus’ study to the grand hallway, but it would serve to keep the household on its collective toes.
[Montclair Palace, Entrance Hall]
Larsus strode down the vast, curving expanse of rosy marble that formed one half of the double staircase in the entryway to Montclair Palace. The guards in their little alcoves were at attention; obviously, word of his arrival had gone before him. He knew that no-one looked that alert and smartly-turned-out all the time.
There were, in fact, a small deputation of Montclair retainers standing clustered on the family seal punched into the floor; Danforth, the Palace’s head butler, and Cirennis, the Captain of the House Guards and a brace of her men.
They bowed or saluted smartly as Larsus rounded the curve of the stairs, his overrobe shimmering in the changing light.
“You got my message, good,” he said in greeting, but sounded subtly disappointed. Danforth hid a smile. “Yes, your grace. Your palanquin and bearers are waiting on the steps, and the capable Captain here has your escort.”
“Jolly good. Where’s Lady Faye? I thought she’d probably enjoy this sort of thing.”
Danforth coughed. “I really couldn’t say, my lord. She was indisposed for breakfast, according to her maid.”
Larsus shrugged. “Oh well. I suppose she was at someone’s house until all hours. Whether there was a party on or not is another matter.” He sighed, but tolerantly – Larsus was really just griping for the sake of it. He was fond of his flamboyant cousin, in truth.
The palanquin made good time along the Imperial Causeway, the Montclair guards rapidly clearing the way of gawkers on their way to the Nius, and soon the gilded domes of Montclair Palace dropped back amid the myriad spires of Jinjen.
[Imperial Nius]
The palanquin – shimmering purple silk hangings and cedarwood, on the backs of four burly slaves – came to a gentle halt and was set down carefully on the sizzling flagstones of the Nius, Montclair guardsmen keeping the citizenry back.
Larsus Montclair stepped down onto the marble, blinking in the sunlight. It was technically a formal occasion, and so the delicate white-gold filigree of his mask caught the light and blazed like cold fire. Black opals gleamed on his overrobe, shifting and shimmering in the light as he looked around the great forum at the centre of the Imperial Causeway.
He squinted; the reflected glare off the legionnaires’ dress uniforms was really quite high. It looked like a simple homecoming spectacle, but for those who knew how to read such things it conveyed a wealth of other information.
The fact that the Empress was absent from the podium said much, as did the fact that it was the Lieutenant-Marshal who presented the homecoming, rather than the Legate.
Larsus Montclair shaded his eyes as the Lieutenant-Marshal came closer, his features resolving from a glaring blur into a set that he recognized, with a small smile.
“Lieutenant Marshal Christian Kimber,” he greeted. “Congratulations from myself and my uncle, and indeed all House Montclair on your promotion. How do you fare?”
Contrary to all propaganda, and indeed, first impressions from a distance, the Imperial Capital was not a nice place. So reflected Larsus Montclair as he sank back into a plush purple armchair.
Dramatic lighting threw the room into high relief and deep shadow, golden lights from the morning sun sparkling through a thousand lead-lined panes and tripping into a quintet of heavy crystal decanters on a sideboard. One of them was half-full of a dark, smoky liquid – a brandy, most probably, knowing Larsus’ tastes.
The gold shards of light sparkled on heavy inkwells and shards of paper, glowed on dusky plants, burned on the curves of burnished Canova bronzes and were drunk into oblivion by the dark, sombre panelling. They surrounded the room’s occupant in a fiery halo, his pale hair glowing.
The windows were open, letting in the smells and sounds of the city – although both were commuted slightly by their passage over the walls and expanse of formal gardens that surrounded Montclair Palace. This might have been tempting to an assassin, but there were several obstacles in the way of such an eventuality – a sure sign that no imbecile had taken the reins of House Montclair.
First, there were the Montclair private security forces, patrolling the decorative walls, gardens and guarding both the gates and the doors in a random, unpredictable pattern. Their equipment was good, their swords well-used – and the best assassins wouldn’t put it past the bastard of a Duke to have put archers and sharpshooters on his parapets as a further deterrent. These would all have to be avoided, neutralized or stunned by a prodigious amount of money before considering the second line of defence.
Second, the stonework of the Palace itself was kept in very good repair, affording very few handholds on its sheer walls. The occasional carving, frieze or bas-relief might provide an anchorage point, but the prospective killer would then be exposed to anyone who cared to see him, and riddled with arrows or the new black-powder bullets.
Thirdly, although the window was open, Montclair’s desk faced it in such a way as to be out of direct firing range but still seeing anything coming through it – any assassin would only have one shot, because there was an emergency bellpull beside the heavy desk and Montclair was known to move like a snake.
Fourth, directly beneath Montclair’s study, a tangle of poison sumac, pyracantha, sisal and an enormous Flying Dragon plant has grown and been subtly encouraged by his gardener-slaves – a truly nasty concoction for anyone to drop into, or try and climb through.
In theory, then, Larsus Montclair wants for nothing; his life is theoretically free from worry and doubt about such mundane things as where the next meal is coming from.
Larsus Montclair leaned back in his armchair once more, the sheets of paper in front of him untouched. Sensitive ears sifted and processed the muted sounds; the faint hubbub of the city – a particularly shrill merchantier’s cry, the creak of a cart and the lash of a whip, all comfortingly familiar – as well as the jingling of the armour of the guards patrolling outside.
The seventh Duke of Coldharbour and Myrantia was currently wrestling with several rather knotty problems, and had little time to spare for the glories of the city outside.
Firstly, there was his recent dedication to Foto and Illunia, the Lovers. Far from being a quiet choice, Arborea’s priests had reacted with near-apoplexy – naturally, they’d been expecting to net a sixth generation of Montclairs, given Arborea’s importance to the farmers which were the lifeblood of Myrantia.
Unfortunately for them, Larsus Montclair was not of any sort of temperament to appreciate nature – beyond something to hunt in – and had found Arborea’s priests, when he paid a courtesy call on their temple – to be insufferably arrogant about his joining the ranks of their dedicates, holding it to be an inevitability rather than a possibility.
Larsus was still young enough to do something different out of pure spite and contrariness, even had he not been decidedly lukewarm towards the goddess of Nature. The Huntsman, Necine, Arborea’s consort, was also out – House Derik honoured him, and to have Montclair and Derik together was not to be borne.
Hydra, the Duchess of the Fathoms, had been a distinct possibility; after all, she was Patron of the Dark Fleet and a passion for sailing ran deep in the Montclair blood, but in the end, Larsus had settled (controversially; his libertine ancestor Duke Aubrey had done the same) on the Lovers.
He found he rather liked their easygoing natures and readiness to help. Plus, of course – he blushed – the Bacchanalia and Chase were fun; and as a dedicate he couldn’t excuse himself on account of work, or be forced to do so, which was a definite bonus.
The farmers might not like it, Arborea’s priesthood might not like it, half his own family might not like it, but by the Lovers the choice of dedication was supposed to be a personal one, not political! Larsus smiled wryly as the thought occurred to him; everything the patriarch of a noble House did was political.
It was the Great Game, the Unacknowledged Sport, played by everyone who was anyone in the Imperial Capital and beyond. ‘Be a player, not a pawn,’ was the unofficial motto of every House in Ríše.
His second problem was, therefore, how, exactly, to go about re-establishing House Montclair’s pre-eminence among the noble Houses; while nothing could erode the power of ‘the Duke of Coldharbour and Myrantia’ to open doors, a long decline under his father’s ailing leadership had done nothing for other lines of access.
Perhaps the solution, then, was to get in touch with all the old allies of House Montclair, all the various relatives and dependents in the Ministries of the capital, throw lavish parties and announce with a very loud and expensive bang that House Montclair was going to reclaim its former pre-eminence among the Houses.
Of course, a silent, lower-profile manoeuvre might also be preferable – one should never show one’s full strength, after all. Larsus sighed. So many decisions, so little time...
And then, to cap it all, there was the matter of Lady Faye. The stream of callers to Montclair Palace – mostly doe-eyed swains of one flavour or another – was driving him, and doubtless the servants of the household, to distraction.
Speaking of...the noises of the city outside suddenly redoubled, coupled with jingling noises and the sounds of chariots thundering across flagstones. Larsus stood up abruptly, murder in his heart.
If there was one more suitor...
Oh. He stood at the window and stared as one of the Legions of Ríše thundered into the city, their armours glittering and beaming in the sun. Their shields had been polished to a burnished shine, their swords and spears glinted unbearably in the hot, tropical sun.
'Well. Bugger this,' Larsus thought. 'I’ve been cooped up in here for far too long. A breath of fresh air will doubtless do me good, and I’m sure Uncle Titus mentioned something about the Legion, too.'
Larsus returned to his desk, picking up and absently sliding on all his rings. While they looked very impressive; purple tanzanites, amethysts and gold, they did make it rather hard to write and so often found themselves scattered across the study desks, acting as impromptu paperweights. It wouldn’t do to appear in public without them, though.
“You,” he snapped peremptorily at one of the twin footmen that stood outside his doors. “Go and find Danforth. Tell him I want a palanquin for two ready to go by the time I get to the entrance hall, and have him send a runner to the House Guards for an escort.”
A slightly unreasonable request, perhaps, given the short distance from Larsus’ study to the grand hallway, but it would serve to keep the household on its collective toes.
[Montclair Palace, Entrance Hall]
Larsus strode down the vast, curving expanse of rosy marble that formed one half of the double staircase in the entryway to Montclair Palace. The guards in their little alcoves were at attention; obviously, word of his arrival had gone before him. He knew that no-one looked that alert and smartly-turned-out all the time.
There were, in fact, a small deputation of Montclair retainers standing clustered on the family seal punched into the floor; Danforth, the Palace’s head butler, and Cirennis, the Captain of the House Guards and a brace of her men.
They bowed or saluted smartly as Larsus rounded the curve of the stairs, his overrobe shimmering in the changing light.
“You got my message, good,” he said in greeting, but sounded subtly disappointed. Danforth hid a smile. “Yes, your grace. Your palanquin and bearers are waiting on the steps, and the capable Captain here has your escort.”
“Jolly good. Where’s Lady Faye? I thought she’d probably enjoy this sort of thing.”
Danforth coughed. “I really couldn’t say, my lord. She was indisposed for breakfast, according to her maid.”
Larsus shrugged. “Oh well. I suppose she was at someone’s house until all hours. Whether there was a party on or not is another matter.” He sighed, but tolerantly – Larsus was really just griping for the sake of it. He was fond of his flamboyant cousin, in truth.
The palanquin made good time along the Imperial Causeway, the Montclair guards rapidly clearing the way of gawkers on their way to the Nius, and soon the gilded domes of Montclair Palace dropped back amid the myriad spires of Jinjen.
[Imperial Nius]
The palanquin – shimmering purple silk hangings and cedarwood, on the backs of four burly slaves – came to a gentle halt and was set down carefully on the sizzling flagstones of the Nius, Montclair guardsmen keeping the citizenry back.
Larsus Montclair stepped down onto the marble, blinking in the sunlight. It was technically a formal occasion, and so the delicate white-gold filigree of his mask caught the light and blazed like cold fire. Black opals gleamed on his overrobe, shifting and shimmering in the light as he looked around the great forum at the centre of the Imperial Causeway.
He squinted; the reflected glare off the legionnaires’ dress uniforms was really quite high. It looked like a simple homecoming spectacle, but for those who knew how to read such things it conveyed a wealth of other information.
The fact that the Empress was absent from the podium said much, as did the fact that it was the Lieutenant-Marshal who presented the homecoming, rather than the Legate.
Larsus Montclair shaded his eyes as the Lieutenant-Marshal came closer, his features resolving from a glaring blur into a set that he recognized, with a small smile.
“Lieutenant Marshal Christian Kimber,” he greeted. “Congratulations from myself and my uncle, and indeed all House Montclair on your promotion. How do you fare?”
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Christian saw the palanquin long before he saw Larsus. The purple silk was an instant indication that someone of the Montclair family was present, some one of considerable repute at that. He made his way toward the small pocket that the guards had made for their patriarch.
The people separated for him to pass, even if they hadn't seen him on the podium his uniform gave a clear message that this was a High Officer, and a path should be made. He had become used to the homecoming treatment, the young ladies fawning over him, the young men looking up to him. One mother thanked him for bringing her son home alive, to which he simply smiled and politely nodded. On average days the average person would simply pass by with out word, after all soldier were plentiful in the capital, officers just as much so, but when men returned from war the people always found it in themselves to show that love and honor that keeps a man's heart warm on a cold campaign night, thousands of miles from home.
"Lieutenant Marshal Christian Kimber, Congratulations from myself and my uncle, and indeed all House Montclair on your promotion. How do you fare?"
He greeted Larsus with a slight bow of the head, "I must congratulate you as well, Lord Councillor, though I do condole the loss of your father. As to how I fare, much better now that I've gotten myself home. It's a glorious business doing Her Majesties work on the front but the gods know its a forfeit of so many simple comforts." He smiled, "Saris has smiled on me though, home I am and home I shall stay, as long as the Legate's don't require our aid on the front." His gaze wandered around, stopping at nothing in particular.
"How is your uncle, I received his letter damn near in the same instant as the promotion. I would have been sooner if distance had permitted. I certainly hope he has come around toward good health." He hadn't been sure of the seriousness of Titus Montclair's illness, though anything that forced the man to take leave from his duties at the College could not be something trivial. It was Christian's first priority to see his old mentor, his second father, he would have foregone the homecoming if it had not been mandated by tradition.
The people separated for him to pass, even if they hadn't seen him on the podium his uniform gave a clear message that this was a High Officer, and a path should be made. He had become used to the homecoming treatment, the young ladies fawning over him, the young men looking up to him. One mother thanked him for bringing her son home alive, to which he simply smiled and politely nodded. On average days the average person would simply pass by with out word, after all soldier were plentiful in the capital, officers just as much so, but when men returned from war the people always found it in themselves to show that love and honor that keeps a man's heart warm on a cold campaign night, thousands of miles from home.
"Lieutenant Marshal Christian Kimber, Congratulations from myself and my uncle, and indeed all House Montclair on your promotion. How do you fare?"
He greeted Larsus with a slight bow of the head, "I must congratulate you as well, Lord Councillor, though I do condole the loss of your father. As to how I fare, much better now that I've gotten myself home. It's a glorious business doing Her Majesties work on the front but the gods know its a forfeit of so many simple comforts." He smiled, "Saris has smiled on me though, home I am and home I shall stay, as long as the Legate's don't require our aid on the front." His gaze wandered around, stopping at nothing in particular.
"How is your uncle, I received his letter damn near in the same instant as the promotion. I would have been sooner if distance had permitted. I certainly hope he has come around toward good health." He hadn't been sure of the seriousness of Titus Montclair's illness, though anything that forced the man to take leave from his duties at the College could not be something trivial. It was Christian's first priority to see his old mentor, his second father, he would have foregone the homecoming if it had not been mandated by tradition.
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Around the nine o’clock Faye had arisen from her zombie like sleep, although she refused to get up out of her bed until the next hour. She groaned when her maid opened the drapes, and opened the windows to let fresh air and light in.
Faye had forgotten to tell her not to do that, before she had fully arisen from her sleep the night before. Slowly rising from her bed straight up, she was stiff, somewhat like a mummy that had awoke from the dead. Her hazel eyes glared at her maids for a moment as her pupils focused to the new light that entered her bedroom. Faye looked out the window wincing a little and ignoring the sounds that came from the city. Today seems like a lovely day, she thought to herself.
Her light brown hair was a mess, and she did not change into her night gown before bed. “Why good morning Lady Faye, it’s nice to see you awake”, one of her maids said to her quite calmly. Faye had a fixed frown on her face as she stared at her maids. She wasn’t angry at them at all, she was weary from her late night outing and Faye wanted a little more shuteye.
She let out a rough sigh before finally smiling at them; there was no going back to her slumber now. The young woman kicked her feet under the blankets and stretched her arms with a yawn “G’mornin,” she said softly before throwing the blankets off her and urged her maids to help her get ready for the day. Faye took loose her long messy braid from her hair while the others undressed her.
Faye eyed one of her maid’s that had a curious look on her face as she watched the other two help her get ready for her day. “You are wondering where I was last night?” Faye smiled at her with a wink. “It’s best that you don’t know I wouldn’t want any of you accidentally telling a member of the family”, she said with a canny smile.
In truth, Faye had been out with a couple of her ‘friends’ or people that she called friends whom she liked to hang out with during late nights and early hours of the morning doing god-knows-what. Usually they stayed up drunk, sang songs and laughed the night away, and last night was no different than any other. Most would say that that is not how a “Lady” should act, but she was just having her fair share of fun.
Faye sat down at her dresser and waited for the maid to brush her hair. They grabbed a purple tie from and elaborately weaved it into her braid and down her back until at the end of it was tied.
Faye wasn’t paying much attention to the noises that were going on outside of the city until they doubled in their sound. The young woman shot up from her seat to remember that today was the day that the Legions were to arrive back to Rise. “How could I not remember!” she blurted loudly slamming her hands on the dresser, startling her maids as they stared at her stunned pausing in braiding her hair.
Faye looked back at them and smiled sheepishly at her random outburst of excitement. Sitting back on her chair, she let them continue. Faye thought about the color she would were but she had already decided to wear a dark purple, hell the color was already in her hair.
“Hurry, I must leave in haste!” Faye said excitedly as she sat back down waiting for her maids to finish the last touches of her apparel. The young woman slipped on her favorite gold rings along with their matching earrings. She reminded the maids to fetch her fresh white rose from the garden, and when she returned she clipped it and gently placed it in Faye’s hair just about above her left ear. The lady Montclair had already missed her breakfast and she didn’t want to miss a glorious day in Rise.
She picked up her perfume bottle and sprayed a whimsical smelling perfume around her neck and onto her wrists. Faye kindly thanked her maids that helped her get ready and bid= them a momentary farewell and off to the city she went.
*********
Faye arrived to the cities gathering of people on her a little upset that she had missed her cousin Larsus from the Palace. She wished he would have waited for her, but of course she was being a little irrational after all it took her a couple of hours to get ready anyway.
Her guards kept many of the citizens away from her and at their distance as she made her way through looking for her cousin. Soon enough she found him talking to the new High officer. She smiled and made her way over the two. Not to interrupt their speaking to one another Faye kept her distance, but close enough were she was in eyes view to be seen. The young Montclair put her silk covered hands in front of her.
A few strands of her light brown hair fell into her face. Her hair was always so disobedient to her sometimes; she pushed them back into place patiently as she waited for her cousin and the new Officer to notice her. After all, she didn’t want to be rude.
Faye was hardly late to anything important and because she was she hated herself for it today, next time she would know not to go out at late hours before something important.
Faye had forgotten to tell her not to do that, before she had fully arisen from her sleep the night before. Slowly rising from her bed straight up, she was stiff, somewhat like a mummy that had awoke from the dead. Her hazel eyes glared at her maids for a moment as her pupils focused to the new light that entered her bedroom. Faye looked out the window wincing a little and ignoring the sounds that came from the city. Today seems like a lovely day, she thought to herself.
Her light brown hair was a mess, and she did not change into her night gown before bed. “Why good morning Lady Faye, it’s nice to see you awake”, one of her maids said to her quite calmly. Faye had a fixed frown on her face as she stared at her maids. She wasn’t angry at them at all, she was weary from her late night outing and Faye wanted a little more shuteye.
She let out a rough sigh before finally smiling at them; there was no going back to her slumber now. The young woman kicked her feet under the blankets and stretched her arms with a yawn “G’mornin,” she said softly before throwing the blankets off her and urged her maids to help her get ready for the day. Faye took loose her long messy braid from her hair while the others undressed her.
Faye eyed one of her maid’s that had a curious look on her face as she watched the other two help her get ready for her day. “You are wondering where I was last night?” Faye smiled at her with a wink. “It’s best that you don’t know I wouldn’t want any of you accidentally telling a member of the family”, she said with a canny smile.
In truth, Faye had been out with a couple of her ‘friends’ or people that she called friends whom she liked to hang out with during late nights and early hours of the morning doing god-knows-what. Usually they stayed up drunk, sang songs and laughed the night away, and last night was no different than any other. Most would say that that is not how a “Lady” should act, but she was just having her fair share of fun.
Faye sat down at her dresser and waited for the maid to brush her hair. They grabbed a purple tie from and elaborately weaved it into her braid and down her back until at the end of it was tied.
Faye wasn’t paying much attention to the noises that were going on outside of the city until they doubled in their sound. The young woman shot up from her seat to remember that today was the day that the Legions were to arrive back to Rise. “How could I not remember!” she blurted loudly slamming her hands on the dresser, startling her maids as they stared at her stunned pausing in braiding her hair.
Faye looked back at them and smiled sheepishly at her random outburst of excitement. Sitting back on her chair, she let them continue. Faye thought about the color she would were but she had already decided to wear a dark purple, hell the color was already in her hair.
“Hurry, I must leave in haste!” Faye said excitedly as she sat back down waiting for her maids to finish the last touches of her apparel. The young woman slipped on her favorite gold rings along with their matching earrings. She reminded the maids to fetch her fresh white rose from the garden, and when she returned she clipped it and gently placed it in Faye’s hair just about above her left ear. The lady Montclair had already missed her breakfast and she didn’t want to miss a glorious day in Rise.
She picked up her perfume bottle and sprayed a whimsical smelling perfume around her neck and onto her wrists. Faye kindly thanked her maids that helped her get ready and bid= them a momentary farewell and off to the city she went.
*********
Faye arrived to the cities gathering of people on her a little upset that she had missed her cousin Larsus from the Palace. She wished he would have waited for her, but of course she was being a little irrational after all it took her a couple of hours to get ready anyway.
Her guards kept many of the citizens away from her and at their distance as she made her way through looking for her cousin. Soon enough she found him talking to the new High officer. She smiled and made her way over the two. Not to interrupt their speaking to one another Faye kept her distance, but close enough were she was in eyes view to be seen. The young Montclair put her silk covered hands in front of her.
A few strands of her light brown hair fell into her face. Her hair was always so disobedient to her sometimes; she pushed them back into place patiently as she waited for her cousin and the new Officer to notice her. After all, she didn’t want to be rude.
Faye was hardly late to anything important and because she was she hated herself for it today, next time she would know not to go out at late hours before something important.
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[Imperial Nius]
“It was expected,” Larsus said shortly. “My esteemed father had been dying since I was six years old.” He sighed. “As to Uncle Titus, well.” A faint smile crossed his face.
“He is being Uncle Titus, waving his cane around and driving Danforth and the slaves to distraction. The physician I trust thinks he caught a particularly nasty provincial version of kassa fever off one of the new intake,” he said, naming a disease common right across the Empire. While not particularly life-threatening for most, it got worse as its host aged.
“Of course, Titus being Titus, he refused to stop teaching, and the stress of it gave him what the physics are pleased to call a heart palpitation of some kind. He’s been dosed up on laudanum and on strict bed rest, which doesn’t sit well with him, as you can well imagine. Nonetheless, we do hope he’s on the mend. He gave us quite a scare.” Larsus shook his head.
“I’m sure he’d be pleased with a visit, in any case. He’s always complaining I leave him stuck in his bedchamber with no-one to talk to.”
He paused and half-turned back towards the palanquin. “How go things on the Long Border?” he asked, seemingly idly. “Not well, I take it?”
Suddenly, he noticed his cousin, the Lady Faye, waiting in the wings, so to speak, just inside the ring of Montclair guardsmen. “Oh, do excuse me, Marshal. I don’t know if you’ve met my cousin? Lady Faye, Lieutenant-Marshal Christian Kimber, Uncle Titus’ protégé. Christian, Lady Faye Montclair, my favourite fourth cousin.”
As a sotto voce aside to said cousin, he murmured, “Did you walk here?”
“It was expected,” Larsus said shortly. “My esteemed father had been dying since I was six years old.” He sighed. “As to Uncle Titus, well.” A faint smile crossed his face.
“He is being Uncle Titus, waving his cane around and driving Danforth and the slaves to distraction. The physician I trust thinks he caught a particularly nasty provincial version of kassa fever off one of the new intake,” he said, naming a disease common right across the Empire. While not particularly life-threatening for most, it got worse as its host aged.
“Of course, Titus being Titus, he refused to stop teaching, and the stress of it gave him what the physics are pleased to call a heart palpitation of some kind. He’s been dosed up on laudanum and on strict bed rest, which doesn’t sit well with him, as you can well imagine. Nonetheless, we do hope he’s on the mend. He gave us quite a scare.” Larsus shook his head.
“I’m sure he’d be pleased with a visit, in any case. He’s always complaining I leave him stuck in his bedchamber with no-one to talk to.”
He paused and half-turned back towards the palanquin. “How go things on the Long Border?” he asked, seemingly idly. “Not well, I take it?”
Suddenly, he noticed his cousin, the Lady Faye, waiting in the wings, so to speak, just inside the ring of Montclair guardsmen. “Oh, do excuse me, Marshal. I don’t know if you’ve met my cousin? Lady Faye, Lieutenant-Marshal Christian Kimber, Uncle Titus’ protégé. Christian, Lady Faye Montclair, my favourite fourth cousin.”
As a sotto voce aside to said cousin, he murmured, “Did you walk here?”
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[Imperial Nius]
"Coreollis tends as always, though the last three years we've pushed north a fare bit. Most of the focus remains on the Roan States, so long as the Long Border doesn't loose any ground her Majesty is content to let the rabble and barbarians alone to huddle against their mountains, for the moment at least."
As Larsus shifted focus Christian was taken aback by the young woman standing just beside them. Light brown hair framed hazel eyes, and there was something in the eyes that he remembered. He recognized a little girl he hadn't seen in some ten odd years, and then only in passing. She had been something like ten then, and defined by a playful refusal to fit in with high society. Obviously she had since let that tendency go, or at least enough of it to make an impression. What ever the case she had certainly grown into a beautiful woman, there was not doubt of that.
"Never formally," he said as he let the memory settle back into reality. He greeted her with a hand and the same slight bow that he had greeted Larsus, "Milady."
The sun was floating lazily overhead, it was hot compared to the long border at this time of year, though for the Capital the word 'hot' was far from the accurate. It would take some time to get re-acclimated to the natural warmth of the city. It would not, however, take any time for him to get used to the wonderful institution of lunch, which his stomach was reminding him of. The legion had forgone eating on the road in favor of arriving home, a natural decision to be sure, after all it won them a real meal with family along with a sooner arrival.
"The family still eats I take it?" Christian asked with a smile.
"Coreollis tends as always, though the last three years we've pushed north a fare bit. Most of the focus remains on the Roan States, so long as the Long Border doesn't loose any ground her Majesty is content to let the rabble and barbarians alone to huddle against their mountains, for the moment at least."
As Larsus shifted focus Christian was taken aback by the young woman standing just beside them. Light brown hair framed hazel eyes, and there was something in the eyes that he remembered. He recognized a little girl he hadn't seen in some ten odd years, and then only in passing. She had been something like ten then, and defined by a playful refusal to fit in with high society. Obviously she had since let that tendency go, or at least enough of it to make an impression. What ever the case she had certainly grown into a beautiful woman, there was not doubt of that.
"Never formally," he said as he let the memory settle back into reality. He greeted her with a hand and the same slight bow that he had greeted Larsus, "Milady."
The sun was floating lazily overhead, it was hot compared to the long border at this time of year, though for the Capital the word 'hot' was far from the accurate. It would take some time to get re-acclimated to the natural warmth of the city. It would not, however, take any time for him to get used to the wonderful institution of lunch, which his stomach was reminding him of. The legion had forgone eating on the road in favor of arriving home, a natural decision to be sure, after all it won them a real meal with family along with a sooner arrival.
"The family still eats I take it?" Christian asked with a smile.
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Lady Faye Marie
Imperial Nius
Faye had told one of the guards specifically to bring her horse over to stand by Larsus’ palanquin and one shuffled off to do so.
Faye was suddenly noticed by her cousin who walked over to her to introduce her to his friend and vise versa. “Lieutenant,” she paused to take his hand with a smile with a gentle courtesy to him. “Oh please call me Faye, its much more pleasing to hear” she smiled. Faye never liked to hear her full title for it annoyed her sometimes.
Faye gave a slight polite courtesy to the man with a small smile. He looked vaguely familiar enough but her memory was failing her at the moment. She decided to think about it more at a later time, this would not be the last time she see him around for sure, especially if he was a friend of Larsus.
Faye looked up at Larsus who softly spoke to her out of surprise and smiled shaking her head in a responsive no. “I did not walk the whole way, I rode on my horse,” Faye smirked and pointed to her white stallion that seemed to be giving one of the guards a hard time as he brought the horse over, one of the many reasons she loved her stallion so much. "You know I love horses, Larsus," she said nudging him a tad playfully “I wouldn’t allow myself to miss this day” she said with a cheerful tone before looking back at Christian. “Congratulations.”
Faye was a little annoyed with the heat today and shielded her eyes with her hands as she stood to the side of Larsus. “Eat…” Faye repeated softly, that reminded her that she had not eaten since last night. Faye clapped her hands together, “Oh yes, I am quite hungry.” Faye said placing her hand onto her stomach inadvertently.
Imperial Nius
Faye had told one of the guards specifically to bring her horse over to stand by Larsus’ palanquin and one shuffled off to do so.
Faye was suddenly noticed by her cousin who walked over to her to introduce her to his friend and vise versa. “Lieutenant,” she paused to take his hand with a smile with a gentle courtesy to him. “Oh please call me Faye, its much more pleasing to hear” she smiled. Faye never liked to hear her full title for it annoyed her sometimes.
Faye gave a slight polite courtesy to the man with a small smile. He looked vaguely familiar enough but her memory was failing her at the moment. She decided to think about it more at a later time, this would not be the last time she see him around for sure, especially if he was a friend of Larsus.
Faye looked up at Larsus who softly spoke to her out of surprise and smiled shaking her head in a responsive no. “I did not walk the whole way, I rode on my horse,” Faye smirked and pointed to her white stallion that seemed to be giving one of the guards a hard time as he brought the horse over, one of the many reasons she loved her stallion so much. "You know I love horses, Larsus," she said nudging him a tad playfully “I wouldn’t allow myself to miss this day” she said with a cheerful tone before looking back at Christian. “Congratulations.”
Faye was a little annoyed with the heat today and shielded her eyes with her hands as she stood to the side of Larsus. “Eat…” Faye repeated softly, that reminded her that she had not eaten since last night. Faye clapped her hands together, “Oh yes, I am quite hungry.” Faye said placing her hand onto her stomach inadvertently.
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Larsus rolled his eyes at his cousin. “I’ll never understand your attraction to the blasted things,” he admitted. “Give me a yacht any day, or a palanquin for the land. Horses are but half a step from madness, it’s always seemed to me.” He smiled indulgently as he heard her mention food.
“I’m hardly surprised. Danforth told me you missed breakfast this morning. Truth be told, I half-expected you not to emerge before noon.” He squinted up at the sun. “Speaking of, it’s getting on for that now. I suggest we all repair to Montclair Palace and show the dear Lieutenant-Marshal that we do indeed still eat.”
A frown marred his delicate features. “I doubt I shall have time for a substantial luncheon, myself. I have a Council meeting – the full Council, not the Star Chamber – in the afternoon, at which my fellow Councillors will do their very best to extinguish my life with boredom, my factor wishes to see me at my earliest convenience, apparently, and then I must return to the endless paperwork that Myrantia seems to generate.” He sighed. “Nonetheless, we progress, albeit slowly. Marshal, you’ll ride with me. The palanquin is for two – I had hoped to catch you, Faye,” he said with a fond glare at her. “Since you have your...your animal, it’s probably for the best to save the Marshal’s legs.”
Larsus settled himself inside the silk-swathed palanquin, his paler skin flashing in the harsh Rŭsean sunlight, and the bearers bent to the poles, ready to gently raise the conveyance and bear both the Duke of Coldharbour and the Lieutenant-Marshal of the First Legion back to Montclair Palace in style.
[Montclair Palace, Entrance Hall]
With a languid wave of his hand, Larsus sent the sweaty and tired bearers off for a bath and a rest, the palanquin itself quickly being stored away in an unobtrusive cupboard by the ubiquitous Montclair slaves.
Larsus clapped his hands, although the gesture was hardly necessary – the Palace staff knew the instant he came through the outer gates and Danforth sailed majestically down the staircase just as the party came through the doors.
After the heat and the glare of the city outside, Montclair Palace breathed coolness and tranquillity from every marble stone. The lamps were unlit, the bowls, alcohol lamps, ingenious oil-runs and candle-pools all dark, and the midday sun that had blazed unbearably off the gilded roofs was commuted to a gentle light by the slightly tinted glass in the windows.
“Ah, Danforth, excellent,” Larsus proclaimed as he glided across the acres of polished marble, heedless of the splendour around him – the buttery golden double staircase with its gilded banisters sweeping back to the mezzanine gallery, the sensual gold statues holding aloft great candelabra, the rich drapes and mosaics.
Tall double doors led off at various points around the circumference; effortlessly, Larsus swept the party through them, identical twin footmen bowing and swinging them wide.
“It’s time for luncheon, I think, Danforth. Um, lobster bisque to start, a turkey in galatine sauce, perhaps a few of those skewered plovers in lemon butter and maybe a caille sarcophage which Cook does so well. If there are any Myrantian fudge delices in the cold-room, they’d be lovely for dessert, too. And the ’87 de Montfiere, the ’54 Apari, and the ’81 Sellaree. Nothing too substantial.” He turned to the rest of them as they swept into one of Montclair Palace’s dining rooms. “Anything you’d like to add? The chefs can prepare almost anything you can think of.”
As he said this, by example he gently chivvied them into long, comfortable recamieres and chaise longues scattered about the chamber; the dining table itself was sunk in the middle of the room, its silverware immaculately gleaming and its tablecloth snowy white.
Where other families might have their dining chambers places of sombre magnificence, the builders of Montclair Palace had made the room a much more whimsical place – the pillars were carved with nymphs and scenes from fairytales, the paintings matched the mythological bent of the room and the long lancets of the windows were made of a million pieces of coloured glass, a fantastical and nonsensical mosaicwork that painted the room in glowing colours.
Comfortable chairs and little tables ranged around the room – perfect for relaxing in either before or after a meal, and extremely conducive to post-prandial naps after the extremely good fare Montclair Palace's legion of chefs could - and did - prepare.
“I’m hardly surprised. Danforth told me you missed breakfast this morning. Truth be told, I half-expected you not to emerge before noon.” He squinted up at the sun. “Speaking of, it’s getting on for that now. I suggest we all repair to Montclair Palace and show the dear Lieutenant-Marshal that we do indeed still eat.”
A frown marred his delicate features. “I doubt I shall have time for a substantial luncheon, myself. I have a Council meeting – the full Council, not the Star Chamber – in the afternoon, at which my fellow Councillors will do their very best to extinguish my life with boredom, my factor wishes to see me at my earliest convenience, apparently, and then I must return to the endless paperwork that Myrantia seems to generate.” He sighed. “Nonetheless, we progress, albeit slowly. Marshal, you’ll ride with me. The palanquin is for two – I had hoped to catch you, Faye,” he said with a fond glare at her. “Since you have your...your animal, it’s probably for the best to save the Marshal’s legs.”
Larsus settled himself inside the silk-swathed palanquin, his paler skin flashing in the harsh Rŭsean sunlight, and the bearers bent to the poles, ready to gently raise the conveyance and bear both the Duke of Coldharbour and the Lieutenant-Marshal of the First Legion back to Montclair Palace in style.
[Montclair Palace, Entrance Hall]
With a languid wave of his hand, Larsus sent the sweaty and tired bearers off for a bath and a rest, the palanquin itself quickly being stored away in an unobtrusive cupboard by the ubiquitous Montclair slaves.
Larsus clapped his hands, although the gesture was hardly necessary – the Palace staff knew the instant he came through the outer gates and Danforth sailed majestically down the staircase just as the party came through the doors.
After the heat and the glare of the city outside, Montclair Palace breathed coolness and tranquillity from every marble stone. The lamps were unlit, the bowls, alcohol lamps, ingenious oil-runs and candle-pools all dark, and the midday sun that had blazed unbearably off the gilded roofs was commuted to a gentle light by the slightly tinted glass in the windows.
“Ah, Danforth, excellent,” Larsus proclaimed as he glided across the acres of polished marble, heedless of the splendour around him – the buttery golden double staircase with its gilded banisters sweeping back to the mezzanine gallery, the sensual gold statues holding aloft great candelabra, the rich drapes and mosaics.
Tall double doors led off at various points around the circumference; effortlessly, Larsus swept the party through them, identical twin footmen bowing and swinging them wide.
“It’s time for luncheon, I think, Danforth. Um, lobster bisque to start, a turkey in galatine sauce, perhaps a few of those skewered plovers in lemon butter and maybe a caille sarcophage which Cook does so well. If there are any Myrantian fudge delices in the cold-room, they’d be lovely for dessert, too. And the ’87 de Montfiere, the ’54 Apari, and the ’81 Sellaree. Nothing too substantial.” He turned to the rest of them as they swept into one of Montclair Palace’s dining rooms. “Anything you’d like to add? The chefs can prepare almost anything you can think of.”
As he said this, by example he gently chivvied them into long, comfortable recamieres and chaise longues scattered about the chamber; the dining table itself was sunk in the middle of the room, its silverware immaculately gleaming and its tablecloth snowy white.
Where other families might have their dining chambers places of sombre magnificence, the builders of Montclair Palace had made the room a much more whimsical place – the pillars were carved with nymphs and scenes from fairytales, the paintings matched the mythological bent of the room and the long lancets of the windows were made of a million pieces of coloured glass, a fantastical and nonsensical mosaicwork that painted the room in glowing colours.
Comfortable chairs and little tables ranged around the room – perfect for relaxing in either before or after a meal, and extremely conducive to post-prandial naps after the extremely good fare Montclair Palace's legion of chefs could - and did - prepare.
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Faye Marie Montclair
Faye glared at him with her lip in a pout, she felt insulted that he talked about her lovely horse. “Larsus…” she said folding her arms eying him annoyed “well I guess I am a half a step away from being mad!” she giggled joyfully.
It was true she expected herself to stay asleep much longer herself, but she didn’t and felt that she lacked a few more hours of sleep. I will catch up for the lack of sleep tonight by going to bed early tonight she thought to herself. “I had hoped to catch you, Faye” Larsus said to her which grabbed her attention once again. “
“Ah well Larsus… you should have waited for me to awake then,” Faye stuck out her tongue at him walking over to her stallion with grace, whom seemed to calm when she approached him.
Faye took the reins of her horse steadily in her hands and tossed her leg over the horse careful not to ‘expose’ herself. Faye looked at Christian once again with a smile and nodded her head, giving her horse a slight kick on the side and off they went back to the Montclair palace.
Desperate as she was to take off on her horse, it was practically impossible with all the guards that circled around her. Faye made a frown as she rode beside Larsus’ palanquin patiently waiting to get back to the palace.
Faye carefully let herself down from her horse, walking in front of him to give him a pet on his nose. “Be good to the guards now,” she said with a smile, following behind Larsus and Christian to the Montclair’s Entrance hall.
As Faye walking in behind Larsus the coolness the palace brushed up against her face, which made her grin out of satisfaction. “Ah,” she sighed happily, maybe after luncheon she would go over look the garden. “Hm…” Faye began to walk on her toes on the marbled floor. It was inadvertent but something that she always did.
“I would like to have a big bowl of fruit” she said with a smile to Danforth. “I am not particular in what in it, so surprise me!” What she asked for was so simple and easy to make, one would have thought that she would have asked for something more complicated.
Faye moved her braid from behind her and over her left shoulder, for no reason in particular. Faye loved this particular part of the room, how everything had that special shine to it so-to-speak. She placed her hands on her corset, irritated, she loved wearing them but sometimes the maids tied them way to tight. Faye breathed lightly.
Faye took a seat at the table and made herself rather comfortable. Faye realized that she hadn’t spoken to Christian in quite some times and finally opened her mouth to speak, “So, does it feel to be back, Christian? If I may call you that,” she smiled.
Faye glared at him with her lip in a pout, she felt insulted that he talked about her lovely horse. “Larsus…” she said folding her arms eying him annoyed “well I guess I am a half a step away from being mad!” she giggled joyfully.
It was true she expected herself to stay asleep much longer herself, but she didn’t and felt that she lacked a few more hours of sleep. I will catch up for the lack of sleep tonight by going to bed early tonight she thought to herself. “I had hoped to catch you, Faye” Larsus said to her which grabbed her attention once again. “
“Ah well Larsus… you should have waited for me to awake then,” Faye stuck out her tongue at him walking over to her stallion with grace, whom seemed to calm when she approached him.
Faye took the reins of her horse steadily in her hands and tossed her leg over the horse careful not to ‘expose’ herself. Faye looked at Christian once again with a smile and nodded her head, giving her horse a slight kick on the side and off they went back to the Montclair palace.
Desperate as she was to take off on her horse, it was practically impossible with all the guards that circled around her. Faye made a frown as she rode beside Larsus’ palanquin patiently waiting to get back to the palace.
Faye carefully let herself down from her horse, walking in front of him to give him a pet on his nose. “Be good to the guards now,” she said with a smile, following behind Larsus and Christian to the Montclair’s Entrance hall.
As Faye walking in behind Larsus the coolness the palace brushed up against her face, which made her grin out of satisfaction. “Ah,” she sighed happily, maybe after luncheon she would go over look the garden. “Hm…” Faye began to walk on her toes on the marbled floor. It was inadvertent but something that she always did.
“I would like to have a big bowl of fruit” she said with a smile to Danforth. “I am not particular in what in it, so surprise me!” What she asked for was so simple and easy to make, one would have thought that she would have asked for something more complicated.
Faye moved her braid from behind her and over her left shoulder, for no reason in particular. Faye loved this particular part of the room, how everything had that special shine to it so-to-speak. She placed her hands on her corset, irritated, she loved wearing them but sometimes the maids tied them way to tight. Faye breathed lightly.
Faye took a seat at the table and made herself rather comfortable. Faye realized that she hadn’t spoken to Christian in quite some times and finally opened her mouth to speak, “So, does it feel to be back, Christian? If I may call you that,” she smiled.
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[Montclair Palace, Inoulian's Dining Hall]
Christian laughed heartily as Larsus described the general manner of suiters, "Ah, have no fear of that, a young fool I can't be, and at this age I've been through enough to with hold my blithering idiot side." he chuckled, "Though they are amusing none the less. I recall a certain woman in some small town running off a particularly annoying caller from the window above, with the chamber pot. Gave us watching quite an amusing afternoon that one did."
As the food was brought out Christian was reminded yet again of his hunger, this time fully prepared to quiet it. He took from each of the platers and the first bottle with in reach. At this point he didn't have a preference for wine any more, things like preference wore off when you had to take what you could get, the fact that he had choices was more than he had in three years.
"Go and see if Titus is strong enough to join us for lunch. And for Surcease's sake, listen to the physician rather than him!"
The last comment brought a smile to Christians face, "Good old stubborn Titus. If they disagree I'd wager the poor physician will have to follow him down here insisting that he return to his room." He clearly remembered more than one occasion in which that had happened, one had been in knee high snow. There was little that deterred the man once he had his mind set on something.
Christian laughed heartily as Larsus described the general manner of suiters, "Ah, have no fear of that, a young fool I can't be, and at this age I've been through enough to with hold my blithering idiot side." he chuckled, "Though they are amusing none the less. I recall a certain woman in some small town running off a particularly annoying caller from the window above, with the chamber pot. Gave us watching quite an amusing afternoon that one did."
As the food was brought out Christian was reminded yet again of his hunger, this time fully prepared to quiet it. He took from each of the platers and the first bottle with in reach. At this point he didn't have a preference for wine any more, things like preference wore off when you had to take what you could get, the fact that he had choices was more than he had in three years.
"Go and see if Titus is strong enough to join us for lunch. And for Surcease's sake, listen to the physician rather than him!"
The last comment brought a smile to Christians face, "Good old stubborn Titus. If they disagree I'd wager the poor physician will have to follow him down here insisting that he return to his room." He clearly remembered more than one occasion in which that had happened, one had been in knee high snow. There was little that deterred the man once he had his mind set on something.
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Larsus leaned back contentedly in his chair as the last remnants of lunch were cleared away. He smiled winningly up at Danforth. "Excellent as always, Danforth. My compliments to the chefs."
Feeling pleasantly full and warm - the dining room caught the sun for much of the day, though the harsh tropical sun was softened by the glass - he felt in no particular hurry to go anywhere.
"Truth be told, Christian, I think that my uncle and the physician get some kind of a perverse satisfaction from needling one another," he whispered loudly, sure to be heard by Titus.
His gaze flickered over to the elaborate clock standing in a pool of sunshine over at one end of the hall, and he frowned slightly, before rising in a waterfall of purple silk.
"You will all please excuse me," he said apologetically. "I must prepare for the upcoming Council meeting." A slight smile. "Doubtless I shall cross swords with the Countess of March and her cronies. Again." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yes. Christian, there's a messenger from the College waiting for you in the morning room, along with a hamper. If that messenger is what I think it is, doubtless you'll be at the College for some time, and while Titus assures me your canteen is perfectly adequate, why settle for adequate when you can have sublime?"
He bowed slightly to Faye. He hadn't missed the way her eyes lit up at the mention of a ball. "If you happen to meet any of your fashionable acquaintances this afternoon, do feel free to mention a party. That is, if you'd like one, of course."
Feeling pleasantly full and warm - the dining room caught the sun for much of the day, though the harsh tropical sun was softened by the glass - he felt in no particular hurry to go anywhere.
"Truth be told, Christian, I think that my uncle and the physician get some kind of a perverse satisfaction from needling one another," he whispered loudly, sure to be heard by Titus.
His gaze flickered over to the elaborate clock standing in a pool of sunshine over at one end of the hall, and he frowned slightly, before rising in a waterfall of purple silk.
"You will all please excuse me," he said apologetically. "I must prepare for the upcoming Council meeting." A slight smile. "Doubtless I shall cross swords with the Countess of March and her cronies. Again." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yes. Christian, there's a messenger from the College waiting for you in the morning room, along with a hamper. If that messenger is what I think it is, doubtless you'll be at the College for some time, and while Titus assures me your canteen is perfectly adequate, why settle for adequate when you can have sublime?"
He bowed slightly to Faye. He hadn't missed the way her eyes lit up at the mention of a ball. "If you happen to meet any of your fashionable acquaintances this afternoon, do feel free to mention a party. That is, if you'd like one, of course."
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Faye clapped her hands excitedly at the word of making a ball and she agreed with Larsus to invite a few of her companions. There was nothing she liked more than a pleasant ball, especially when all the Montclair’s were to be invited. Faye sat there for a moment, fully satisfied with her meal and thanked Danforth and sent her compliments to the chef as well. Faye listened to Christian, Larsus and Titus speak before it was time for everybody to leave. Larsus had work to go to and Christian was off to visit the College of war. Faye, herself wanted to see the Garden and go to the Grand Market to buy some material for a few dresses, then maybe she would return and plan out a ball. She smiled when Christian spoke to her again.
And Faye you will have to save me a dance at this ball of yours. That is, of course, if you can fit me in with all the young men clambering at the door. Said Christian
Faye giggled and nodded her head in a yes as she watched Christian throw back on his armor.
Faye turned her head around when she heard her other cousin Degan approaching. Faye listened as Larsus spoke to him and calmly shook her head. Faye laughed at Larsus shaking her head. Oh brother... she thought.
“Oh please Degan, just call me Faye,” she said to him with a slight frown as she stood to her feet smelling something awkward. “You’re up rather late… anyway, I am off to the Grand Market after I visit our garden, do you wish to come along?” she asked Degan, she could use the company anyway Faye didn’t like to be alone by herself for too long.
Faye without waiting for his response stood to her feet and exited out the room. “I am leaving in thirty minutes so….” Faye paused and eyed him, “clean your-self up.” She said with a smirk rolling her eyes.
Montclair Garden
Faye was greeted outside by many of the gardener’s who made her lovely roses that she put in her hair, she wanted a fresh one now to replace the one that she had in her hair currently. Faye slowly pulled out the rose in her hair and handed it to one of the gardeners. She took a look around the garden slowly observing the many flowers that they planted, roses (her favorite) lilies, tulips. A smile spread across her smooth face.
“Lovely,” she said simply still looking down on the flowers planted. This was one of the many times she sat back and thought about the simplicity and beauty of nature. The rows upon rows of flowers made her want to jump in them. The heat bore down on her face and kindly did one of the gardeners who gave her their sun hat. “Thank you” she said with a smile.
“You are welcome, M’lady,” said the male Gardner who returned a smile at her. Faye didn’t look up; instead, her attention was focused on a large red rose. Slowly she kneeled over to take a better look at it. A small insect had already gained habitance of it, which made Faye frown, but she wouldn’t bother with the small bug’s new home.
Faye was feeling in a good mood today. “Do you want that one M’lady?” One asked curiously. Faye shook her head in response and stood to her feet, “I will take the one next to it, seems like someone has already claimed it.”
The Gardner that was by Faye’s side picked the rose long enough so that it might fit in her hair, then clipped its many thorns before giving it to the young Montclair. “Thank you,” Faye gently put the flower in her hair and went on her way to the Grand Market.
And Faye you will have to save me a dance at this ball of yours. That is, of course, if you can fit me in with all the young men clambering at the door. Said Christian
Faye giggled and nodded her head in a yes as she watched Christian throw back on his armor.
Faye turned her head around when she heard her other cousin Degan approaching. Faye listened as Larsus spoke to him and calmly shook her head. Faye laughed at Larsus shaking her head. Oh brother... she thought.
“Oh please Degan, just call me Faye,” she said to him with a slight frown as she stood to her feet smelling something awkward. “You’re up rather late… anyway, I am off to the Grand Market after I visit our garden, do you wish to come along?” she asked Degan, she could use the company anyway Faye didn’t like to be alone by herself for too long.
Faye without waiting for his response stood to her feet and exited out the room. “I am leaving in thirty minutes so….” Faye paused and eyed him, “clean your-self up.” She said with a smirk rolling her eyes.
Montclair Garden
Faye was greeted outside by many of the gardener’s who made her lovely roses that she put in her hair, she wanted a fresh one now to replace the one that she had in her hair currently. Faye slowly pulled out the rose in her hair and handed it to one of the gardeners. She took a look around the garden slowly observing the many flowers that they planted, roses (her favorite) lilies, tulips. A smile spread across her smooth face.
“Lovely,” she said simply still looking down on the flowers planted. This was one of the many times she sat back and thought about the simplicity and beauty of nature. The rows upon rows of flowers made her want to jump in them. The heat bore down on her face and kindly did one of the gardeners who gave her their sun hat. “Thank you” she said with a smile.
“You are welcome, M’lady,” said the male Gardner who returned a smile at her. Faye didn’t look up; instead, her attention was focused on a large red rose. Slowly she kneeled over to take a better look at it. A small insect had already gained habitance of it, which made Faye frown, but she wouldn’t bother with the small bug’s new home.
Faye was feeling in a good mood today. “Do you want that one M’lady?” One asked curiously. Faye shook her head in response and stood to her feet, “I will take the one next to it, seems like someone has already claimed it.”
The Gardner that was by Faye’s side picked the rose long enough so that it might fit in her hair, then clipped its many thorns before giving it to the young Montclair. “Thank you,” Faye gently put the flower in her hair and went on her way to the Grand Market.
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Faye Marie Montclair
Faye kept her eyes closed as she rode on her white stallion back to the Montclair palace. She had been out about two hours, roaming the Grand Market and stopping to chat to a few people, despite her guards insisting that she shouldn’t. Faye fumbled around with her white gloves, pulling them off her hands one finger at a time. She let out a heavy sigh and decided to take a detour to visit her father’s estate not too far from the Montclair palace. Faye never understood clearly why her father decided not to live with his brothers in the Montclair palace, although she thought it was because of the commotion that might have went on inside. Faye shrugged her shoulders, whatever the reason she loved to visit. Faye let their maids and slaves stay there as if it were their own home, but only to keep up its maintenance.
“AH!” she shouted happily as the smaller palace came into her sights. “I will only be here for a few moments,” Faye said waving off her guards. The hesitated and looked at her strangely. It was not uncommon for them to do this; Faye often needed protection from her admirers from getting too close to her, something that she didn’t mind all the time. Finally, they agreed to let her be, but surrounded the small palace until she returned back out.
As she entered the palace doors she was greeted by her maids and slaves that were quite taken aback from her visit without warning. The hazel eyed beauty looked around pleasantly at the palace, although the slaves were startled by her appearance there, they maintained the palace as promised to her.
The first room she visited was her parent’s bedchamber. The room remained the same as when she left off to live with her cousins in the larger palace.
She frowned, feeling a mixture of happiness and sadness at once. It was bitter-sweet. Faye made herself over to her parent’s bed and sat on it staring out of the window in deep thought.
I really did give them a hard time hm? She thought.
“All right, M’lady?” said a maid entering the room quietly with a concerned expression on her face. Faye was suddenly ripped from her thoughts and back into reality. “Ah yes,” she said with a small smile, “I am fine.” Faye stood to her feet clasping her hands in front of her before exiting. In a few moments’ time Lady Montclair had explored the whole palace and her memories before leaving. After leaving her childhood abode, she remembered exactly who Christian was, which made her grin.
****________****
Faye returned to the Montclair palace early enough not to miss the afternoon tea. Faye walked in seemingly preoccupied with her thoughts and only smiled at the servants, maids and slaves when she walked in. A ball was the first thing on her mind, and the second a bunch of things from her childhood. Faye marched up to her bedchamber “Ellyn! Bring me a feather and some paper,” Faye shouted loudly.
Ellyn was one of her best maids and someone that Faye could call a good friend, she trusted Ellyn even though she had her own faults as all humans do. First, she had a tongue that cannot hold any secret, and is too naïve and trusting of others but in pointing out her good side she was extremely loyal to the Montclair family and especially to Faye Marie Montclair.
Of course the Lady Montclair didn’t have to plan these things out; she would simply ask her servants to do it for her. Which she would just to save time to do other things, but she wanted to be as much involved as possible in the planning of the ball.
Faye kept her eyes closed as she rode on her white stallion back to the Montclair palace. She had been out about two hours, roaming the Grand Market and stopping to chat to a few people, despite her guards insisting that she shouldn’t. Faye fumbled around with her white gloves, pulling them off her hands one finger at a time. She let out a heavy sigh and decided to take a detour to visit her father’s estate not too far from the Montclair palace. Faye never understood clearly why her father decided not to live with his brothers in the Montclair palace, although she thought it was because of the commotion that might have went on inside. Faye shrugged her shoulders, whatever the reason she loved to visit. Faye let their maids and slaves stay there as if it were their own home, but only to keep up its maintenance.
“AH!” she shouted happily as the smaller palace came into her sights. “I will only be here for a few moments,” Faye said waving off her guards. The hesitated and looked at her strangely. It was not uncommon for them to do this; Faye often needed protection from her admirers from getting too close to her, something that she didn’t mind all the time. Finally, they agreed to let her be, but surrounded the small palace until she returned back out.
As she entered the palace doors she was greeted by her maids and slaves that were quite taken aback from her visit without warning. The hazel eyed beauty looked around pleasantly at the palace, although the slaves were startled by her appearance there, they maintained the palace as promised to her.
The first room she visited was her parent’s bedchamber. The room remained the same as when she left off to live with her cousins in the larger palace.
She frowned, feeling a mixture of happiness and sadness at once. It was bitter-sweet. Faye made herself over to her parent’s bed and sat on it staring out of the window in deep thought.
I really did give them a hard time hm? She thought.
“All right, M’lady?” said a maid entering the room quietly with a concerned expression on her face. Faye was suddenly ripped from her thoughts and back into reality. “Ah yes,” she said with a small smile, “I am fine.” Faye stood to her feet clasping her hands in front of her before exiting. In a few moments’ time Lady Montclair had explored the whole palace and her memories before leaving. After leaving her childhood abode, she remembered exactly who Christian was, which made her grin.
****________****
Faye returned to the Montclair palace early enough not to miss the afternoon tea. Faye walked in seemingly preoccupied with her thoughts and only smiled at the servants, maids and slaves when she walked in. A ball was the first thing on her mind, and the second a bunch of things from her childhood. Faye marched up to her bedchamber “Ellyn! Bring me a feather and some paper,” Faye shouted loudly.
Ellyn was one of her best maids and someone that Faye could call a good friend, she trusted Ellyn even though she had her own faults as all humans do. First, she had a tongue that cannot hold any secret, and is too naïve and trusting of others but in pointing out her good side she was extremely loyal to the Montclair family and especially to Faye Marie Montclair.
Of course the Lady Montclair didn’t have to plan these things out; she would simply ask her servants to do it for her. Which she would just to save time to do other things, but she wanted to be as much involved as possible in the planning of the ball.
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