675-08-07 - Granville Matters

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Granville Matters
Summary: The Duke and Duchess Istivean visit the King, to discuss some pressing matters regarding their duchy.
Who: Barret Brais, Solinus Istivean and Ortensia Istivean
References: re:Jarvis Bainsworth, re:Barbeta Brais
When: August 7th, 675
Related Logs: None directly.
Date of RP: 08/08/2014
Where: Audience Chamber - Mergorand Castle, Beresgond
Room Desc: The audience chamber is a room of moderate size, the most notable thing in there probably the beautifully carved chair if cherry wood, showing ornaments of the Brais coat of arms, the tower as well as a stylized version of the two rivers Gialdra and Verneas. This chair has been placed on a dais, exposed as is the office of the man who sits on it occasionally, whereas other, less ornamental chairs will provide any petitioners with a seat, should their matters take up more time than what can be expected to endure standing.


Today the king looks a tad weary, despite his offical attire of a red and black doublet and drak grey breeches. A plain crown sits on his head, and mayhaps the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes may appear deeper than usual. Alas. There is no tranquility to be had, as petitioners and courtiers are called in one by one, and tedious matters have to be decided. A deep sigh leaves King Barret Brais's throat when a couple of Bainsworths leave the chamber, after bringing up a matter that seemed drenched with their ire. And calls for revenge were hardly subdued by the king, the demands for such merely delayed until a time in a few weeks.

Among that morass of plaintiffs, and apparently in no unseemly hurry to push themselves forward unduly, are the Duke and Duchess of Granville, one of the King's chief vassals, a ponderous man with an aura more than an actuality of great age, and his flighty, golden-headed younger wife. It may be that the King will regard these exalted visitors, whom he knows relatively well, as something in the way of a relief. On the other hand, there is little on Duke Solinus's heavy, sallow features that encourages thoughts of rest and entertainment.

When the hour has incontrovertibly come, the ducal couple are bidden forth, and, taking his Fennim-born wife's hand, Solinus strides abruptly towards the regal chair. "Your Majesty. Might we be seated?" It is a simple boon to request, but Solinus's deep, hoarse, confident voice somehow implies a second desire - for privacy.

Duchess Ortensia enters with an old-worldly charm, a beauty that doesn't shine as brightly as it had in the more radiant days of her youth, but a grace that is far from fading. Her golden curls bear the slight stain of darkness, the corners of her eyes that of having entered her third decade and, more significally, the losses that have left their traces, yet her lips are still blossoming in their luscious vermillion.

Her hand rests on her husbands arm, her eyes more often than not on his mien, attentive and wide awake.

"Your Majesty, it is a great pleasure," she greets and continues commenting on the couple of visitors that has "you still keep handling their quarrels with an admirable patience. If they were my children I would have locked them in a room until they come to their senses."

Bushy eye brows will raise in recognition when the Duke and Duchess are shown in, and the king will incline his head in greeting. "Duke Solinus, Duchess Ortensia," the deep baritone resounds from the walls of the audience chamber, and King Barret smiles. It is a slightly sad smile however, as he is of course aware of the current troubles in the Duchy of Granville, and moreover, possibly glimpses hints of dire news on the Istivean's features. "Of course," is the brief reply to the duke's request, and two chairs are indicated, as well as a gesture given to the servants and guards, to leave them for a moment.

Ortensia will receive a warm smile then, at her remark, as well as a chuckle that sounds both weary and amused. "Ah, House Bainsworth. As valuable as its members have proven to us, it seems they have some very profound concern. Family matters." He shrugs with a sigh, obviously not intending to go into further details. By now the doors to the chamber have been shut, and only two guards remain, less for security's sake but rather because courtly protocol demands it.

"My lady exaggerates. She is very lenient with our..." The word 'girls' dies on the Duke's lips as he rids himself of the thought with a pained shrug. "At any rate, sire, I could not and should not blame you if you were to be weary of weighty affairs by now...sadly, I have little else to offer, these days. As has my whole duchy."

Seating himself bolt upright on the proffered chair, Solinus admits, "I fear we have a wealth of gloomy matters to consider. Villages blaze now, instead of festering. Land has never been cheaper in Granville, nor husbandry so disordered. And, if Your Majesty will forgive my presumption, since this question of the finnickly Isles princess's preferences...both of our successions stand in some doubt."

"Of course it is a family matter. At times I think, as much as blood has been praised for its benefits over water, it gets to thick to nurture our brains properly," Ortensia replies drily, obviously not in dire need of further details.

Her husbands words proceed, as she sits down, putting a leaden weigh on her shoulders, yet her voice is enriched with profound affection as she adds "And of course I am lenient with my daughter. Nature has graced her with more wit, more strength and more common sense as I could have wished to be able to find in any son and your daughter, your Majesty, even outshines her."

What her words cannot quite hide is the shadow of guilt that sneaks into one of her hand to absently raise it and let it rest on her middle.

The king raises his hands as if to indicate he is well aware how things stand in Granville. "We have sent you reinforcements to deal with the barbarians," Barret points out with a slightly weary smile. "One of those Bainsworths will be organizing a mission to gather intelligence to the North of our border. Sir Jarvis. Maybe you've heard of him? As for the... discouraging business of heirs and succession lines..." The King lowers his gaze for a moment, as pain flickers briefly in those brown eyes. After all, he lost three sons to the plague, leaving him only his two daughters Luanda and Barbeta.

"I will look into that, the options that are there. You are of course graced with a wife, whereas I may already be too old to marry." The king remarks. "I might change a passage in our book of laws, as it may be required to pass the crown on to a son of my daughters. They are young. They may be able to bear the heir to Two Rivers, who knows...? Yet, before that can be considered, they must marry."

Then the eyes of the Brais King drift towards Ortensia, and a warm smile brushes over his face. "Yes. We must see to be content what the plague left us, instead of... losing ourselves in grief. There is a future for us and our country, I am sure." Her gesture catches his attention though, and for a moment the king's gaze does linger on Ortensia's hand and where she has placed it.

"Sir Jarvis Bainsworth," Solinus repeats, his glum and doubtful tone suggesting courteously but firmly that he hasn't heard much of this knight, and didn't like what he did hear unduly. "Very well, sire. You and this knight shall surely share in all Granville's thanks, whatever betide. As to the...second question..."

Duke Solinus exchanges a long, careful look with his wife, before he turns his murky stare back on the King himself and delivers a statement that has evidently mustered long in thought. "Your Majesty would find many more dutiful girls than the Islands princess, on a certain, and must suit yourself. But for my own part, I intend to settle Granville on our living child, Rishone. The girl is every bit as...adequate...as her fond mother here describes. Granville has much healing to be seen to, sire. It may be it could some day profit from a woman's kind of nobility."

"Youth is a precious, precious good these days," even the energetic Duchess does not remain untouched by the ubiquitous weariness that has befallen the King's realms. "It fades so easily, yet still it is what we try to grasp so often. Many young ladies are too flighty and fragile to be worth sitting next to you, but there is truth in it, when you say that there might be a worthy, understanding knight to gain a place next to one of your daughters. For Granville, yes, I can see it prosper in her gentle hands. There is a future, there is."

"I will keep you informed about anything he and his men may find out," the king says in regard to the Bainsworth Mission. "They will probably pay you a visit at Whitstock Keep soon, to consult with you about the safest travel routes, and areas that are already in enemy hand." A faint smile appears at the remark about other dutiful eligible brides. "I will continue to look for a match, of course! As it would be the best for Two Rivers." Then he raises one of those bushy brows at the Istivean Duke's statement. "You mean to... make your daughter heir to Granville? Now, that is a thing we will need to talk about should the time come. As it is not allowed, according to current laws." King Barret shakes his head incredulously. "You have relatives, male relatives who have a right to be considered before Lady Rishone may make her claim... But I understand you, and very well indeed. We need to talk about this, some other time perhaps." As for now, the king will rise from his seat. "After supper. Maybe you would like to join me?"

"With pleasure, sire," the Duke of Granville growls out in tones of the most leaden duty. "We have had that upon our minds and our tongues which only a well-laid board or a well-stocked library can remedy." Once the King has risen, Duke Solinus will let his monarch and host escort his wife in to supper, bringing up a stolid rear himself.