In the Walls of the Palace (Renaissance Political RP) [IC]

[Aureumterra]

Much is at stake in the Kingdom of Tarinia. Tarinia, located on the continent of Rinin, is the world’s superior power, and has established its dominance through its military and naval might. Rinin itself was a peninsula connected to the continent of Emura, however, Rinin was the world’s most technologically advanced area, and the only one where guns and firearms were widely used. After going through a long period of war and lack of innovation, known simply as the Dark Ages, Rinin reemerged as the world’s center for technological advancement, with Tarinia leading the way. It was in this time period that the arts have started to flourish again, and the great explorers of the continent have even found a brand new world far out west.

Within Tarinia was a change of leadership. The Tarinian throne belonged to the Sixurid Dynasty for nearly three centuries before a man, Louis Teborg, amassed a large army and took the throne, declaring himself the king of the powerful country in the process. After just a year of his reign, King Louis I died, with the inability to produce a male heir. This left his only child, his 26 year old daughter Sophie to become coronated as Queen Sophie I. Now that Queen Sophie has taken the throne, Tarinia’s future is looking promising and extremely dynamic.

Sophie has taken the throne amid a massive cultural shift in Rinin. Calls for the end of absolute monarchies around the world and the adaptation of a new system, the parliamentary system, run rampant. Many countries of Rinin, including Tarinia have begun colonizing faraway lands in the New World, as well as strengthening ties with neighbors outside of the continent. Rinin, and especially Tarinia’s use of firearms made going to war with and conquering the primitive natives child’s play. Tarinia’s economic boom has contributed to its assertion of dominance over many of its neighbors, creating many enemies. The world is at crossroads, as the year 1600 fast approaches. The new Queen came with many advisors, ministers, and palace staff. Tension runs high, as advisors and ministers clash, for the Queen’s approval as well as making their inner visions for Tarinia come true. Outside the walls of the palace, increased calls for a democratic parliamentary system are heard, while the New World is quickly being contested over.

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OOC

[Aureumterra]

Reserved for timeline once IC events start happening

[Aureumterra]

Adenastead Palace, Biymond, Tarinia
Queen Sophie had been through a lot over the past year. Her father’s death and ascension to the throne had put her as the leader of the world’s superior economic power. More recently, fierce competition had begun for the New World, and Tarinia had taken the archipelago southeast of the continent, which proved to be massively important, as it had excellent soil to grow indigo. The indigo from the archipelago had been nicknamed “purple gold,” as it provided a massive economic boost to Tarinia. While the New World prospered, Sophie’s concerns went far beyond that. Tarinia’s historical rival, Derland, had been attempting to block the indigo imports from the New World colonies via privateers. Sophie had enough with them, and immediately summoned all of her advisors, as well as the Admiral of the Fleet to the throne room to discuss. She sent a messenger to spread the word across the palace.

[Talchyon]

Adenastead Palace, Biymond, Tarinia
Queen Sophie had been through a lot over the past year. Her father’s death and ascension to the throne had put her as the leader of the world’s superior economic power. More recently, fierce competition had begun for the New World, and Tarinia had taken the archipelago southeast of the continent, which proved to be massively important, as it had excellent soil to grow indigo. The indigo from the archipelago had been nicknamed “purple gold,” as it provided a massive economic boost to Tarinia. While the New World prospered, Sophie’s concerns went far beyond that. Tarinia’s historical rival, Derland, had been attempting to block the indigo imports from the New World colonies via privateers. Sophie had enough with them, and immediately summoned all of her advisors, as well as the Admiral of the Fleet to the throne room to discuss. She sent a messenger to spread the word across the palace.

Duke Casimir Langrayne, High Chancellor

The sunlight of mid-morning shone through the window of the Chancellor's study. Various tomes of law, both canon law as well as state law, were piled up throughout the room. Unlit tallows on their stands stood beckoning the darkness, to give off light to the high official whose presence graced the room. On a large wooden desk by the window, near the intricately designed scrollwork etched into the stones, a frowning man sat looking over correspondence received. The news was to be expected. No big surprise in any of the networks Chancellor Langrayne had going. Suspicions of a noble's bankruptcy here. Another, a baron, caught in infidelity there. All of them lesser houses, and none of them in direct competition for the chancellorship. But still. Casimir Langrayne knew they could be useful pieces if played right.

He seemed to be staring at the grounds below, but the Second Coming could be happening and the chancellor would be unaware of it. Langrayne was lost in thought. There was court later today, but the legalities were hardly a concern. Rather, Langrayne was thinking of a great many things. The rebellious voices who were clamoring for an ungodly and unheard of political freedom. The Church's meddling influence. Potential trade windfalls in the new world. There was money to be made, for the bold or the treacherous. And money always brought power. But the most power to be sought was still out of reach. Casimir had worked hard to get where he was, the High Chancellor of Tarinia! And none could look back and see his rise as anything but providential. No one could say the steps he had taken to maneuver himself in this position. But he lacked one thing. The throne itself. That was the ultimate prize, the elusive goal that remained just out of reach. However, it may not always be that way.

Just then, a page knocked on the thick oaken door of Langrayne's study. His attention disrupted, the chancellor looked at the younger man. "Your excellency, a message from the Queen. Your presence is requested immediately as one of the queen's advisors on a pressing matter." Casimir's glance at the man was dismissive, and waved him off with his hand. It was just as well.

To Queen Sophie, the younger monarch newly ascended to the throne, Duke Casimir Langrayne was nothing but the most punctilious and dutiful servant. Giving advice to the queen on all domestic and foreign matters was a task entrusted to only a select few in the kingdom. Casimir was one of them. And even though he had eyes on her throne, he knew he could not move quickly. It was not the right time. But one day, it would come. Until then, the Chancellor strove to present himself the most loyal of subjects and thoughtful of advisors. And so far, that was how he understood himself to be perceived.

The Game of Houses was a complicated art. Many strove to play it well and advance their standings. Few had played it as well as Duke Casimir Langrayne. But there was more to be done.

Burning the parchments with the news in the fire, Langrayne made sure they were ashes before heading out. He had a meeting with the Queen.

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Henry “the Bastard” Teborg

“Good morning Biymond!”

That was what he had shouted when he shoved the windows of his room open, letting in the early morning sun into his room, allowing him to warm up after a cold night of sleep. His room was a quaint little thing, located on the ground, near a few tunnels, allowing him clandestine access to much of the castle, and as for his room, there was a table with a few candles and wicks, and parchments, pens, and ink. Oh well, there was work to be done today, no use thinking about his room. A recent succession had just occurred, and a woman on the throne as well, and with many ambitious nobles, clergymen, and now, regular men all over the kingdom? Oh, he had his work cut out for him, and it is a big chunk of the workload, indeed. Quickly clothing himself in his daily wear, he proceeded out of the door, and met with the guard standing right outside.

“See any curious people today Tim?” He inquired, only to get a shaken head. To that, he simply nodded and whispered “I see”. The Bastard quickly left the vicinity of the doorway in order to give his cousin a quick visit and a not so quick chat. After that, its his work throughout the day.

Whilst walking down the hall, he spotted a stained glass window that was dedicated to his uncle and for the most part, his father, and he thought about the one year reign of his. As brief as it was, it was a productive and beneficial age of rulership, changing many things that were outdated and still were in use during the last days of the Sixurid dynasty, and giving his successor a smooth succession, something that was in short supply in the years before Louis I’s reign. See, Matthew X, the king before the king before Louis, died with his firstborn son also dead before him. This led to the crown being passed on to the goatish looking Richelieu IV. Of course, with Matthew X being a lustful fucker, having to multiple sons, both legit and bastard, the kingdom quickly blew up into a free-for-all civil war between the sons, some of which were landed and thus had troops in conjunction to hired mercenaries. Of course some of these became bankrupt as time wore on, and the mercenaries became roving bands.

When Louis Teborg intervened by raising up his armies and destroying these bands, this endeared him to the peasants, and they joined him. He eventually was able to smash the various sons jockeying for old Matthew’s throne on the field, and after mopping up the remnants, he crowned himself. One year in, he was dead, from circumstances that, when looked at more closely, are a tad bit suspect. However, that was all behind them now, and the people of Tarinia owe their thanks to Louis Teborg for his revitalisation of the land from war.

By the time he finished his thoughts, his guard down the hall was staring at him with and odd face. He waved him off, and went on his way further down the hall. After navigating the palace successfully, he was able to intercept his cousin Sophie. “Cousin! Or should I say, Queen Sophie?” He greeted her, “Anyway, you are, as always, a vision to tired eyes.”.

[Khasinkonia]

אֶלֻאַנַט, דֻשֶׁשׂ אַן בַּשׂ צֶרוּ
Alongside the Queen

As was tradition, I remained quietly alongside my queen at all times. It had been only a year since the good queen’s ascent to the throne, and two years since her family’s rise to the throne. My clothes had never been so comfortable; certainly this was a time of great luxury. It only seemed the palace was rife with excess ambition it seemed, perhaps a product of the civil war still living in recent memory. Although my duties seldom involved the political aspect of the queen’s life, one could surely be forgiven for having an opinion. As long as I received my allowance, I would have little to worry about.

The inquisition could perhaps become a pestilence if I was not careful, as could any other assortment of political mishaps, really. The court was a volatile place for most, and it sometimes seemed as if being the royal human lap dog was among the easier positions to hold. The allowance I received certainly paid for anything I could conceivable want, although certain things I had to fetch rather discreetly to avoid inconvenient questions, of course.

Henry Teborg, known as “the Bastard” by some, was the queen’s current conversant, meaning I was of little use.

[Arkhastok]

Francis Irvington, Teborgina, The New World
The warm sun shined into the dark room, illuminating the dark wooden walls as Francis sighed at the new news of the Derland interference in the archipelago. Francis had hoped that the new Queen had enough faith in him to be able to solve the problems in the New World, given only a little assistance was given. After all, he would be able to report to the Queen in a few weeks time as he is to return back to Tarinia.

Francis looked outside to the indigo soil that was a main resource of Tarinia's wealth in assisting to grow indigo. "I don't think they appreciate us enough do they now? Now that is one complaint I will not hesitate to bring with me" Francis remarked to the servant fetching his drink. The servant nodded awkwardly, exiting the room shortly after. With the paper in front of him, Francis decided that a letter should be delivered to the palace, detailing his expectations of assistance in the New World.

Obviously, there weren't enough colonisers. As the western lands become more vast and hostile as it goes further inland, there would be a need of more men to assist. There also wasn't enough naval and army assistance, particularly to protect against Derland and their scandalous blocking of indigo imports that could very well ruin the Tarinian economy. Francis hit the table with his fist as he contemplated how underappreciated the colonisers and the New World were.

Immediately, Francis began writing

To Her Majesty and Her Advisors and Aides
It has come to my attention that the settlers and colonists of the Tarinian colonies in the archipelago are quite lacking in assistance. While Teborgina, a bustling port town thrives in its indigo industry, many western agrarian areas suffer from attacks from barbaric natives. Farmers and settlers need additional army assistance to fend off these pests and bring an end to the animals once and for all.

Tarinia must have a strong image, especially against the dastardly Derland who dare to intervene in our New World affairs. I trust that the Palace is busy at work sorting the issue out, however it would take more than just a strongly worded letter or a threat or two to fix it. There must be a show of force and the barbaric natives are the perfect rats to try it on. I formally request more army assistance to show that Tarinia does not fear any power, barbaric or civilsed.

I thank you for your consideration.
Sir Francis Irvington

Francis sealed the letter and made a short trip to the post office to ensure that the letter is delivered on the next possible ship. The ship was to depart as soon as the sun rose the next day, perfect timing. Francis had decided that he would depart for Tarinia once again in two weeks time, to interact with the Queen herself.

[Aureumterra]

Queen Sophie I
As Sophie awaited her ministers’ arrival, she was greeted by her cousin, a bastard who she wasn’t too fond of. “Hello, I am currently awaiting the arrival of my other ministers, we do have much to discuss, and you being the spymaster is important when addressing this new world concern.” She replied. Sophie then took a seat at her throne as a servant brought over a letter from the new world. She smiled after reading it, and awaited to present it to the court.

[Of the Quendi]

Prince Sixtus
Pontisara, Tarinia

The past eighteen months had taken a heavy toll on Prince Sixtus. The collapse of the Sixurid monarchy, the brutal murder of his royal uncle on the flimsiest of pretexts, the exile that his friends and family had been driven destitute into, those of them who had managed themselves to avoid the hangman's noose, the burdens of being no longer the commander of a royal army, but a de facto rebel leader trying to chart a viable course for his people and his nation had worn on the prince. Always a serious, dutiful and able man, Prince Sixtus had become downright somber in his attempts to manage his army and those eastern provinces that remained loyal to the Sixurid monarchy. The problems facing him was legion.

Everyday he was confronted with impossible dilemmas where he had to juggle moral, military, political and simply practical considerations with little hope of ever finding workable solutions satisfying all, or even just one, consideration. Sixtus lacked everything. The incomes from his territory amounted to less than half of what was needed for the upkeep of his army. He could either dismiss half his army, leaving his position against a potential Teborg offensive exceedingly precarious, impose crippling taxes on his territory, undermining any popular support for the restoration of the Sixurid monarchy, or he could turn to his Sasian allies and request financial support, thus further indebting the loyalists to a traditional enemy. There was no solution. And that was just one of the problems confronting him. Defections and desertions from the ranks of the local nobility, bureaucracy and even parts of Sixtus's army had left administering both the army and territory under his control difficult. Positions was left unfilled and without the royal bureaucracy of the capital even those administrators still serving was often leaderless and unable to take any sort of action without personal instructions from Sixtus. The result was an endless stack of documents on even the most trivial matters piling up on Sixtus's desk. The task was further compounded by the difference of opinion of Sixtus and his relatives on just what sort of direction his territory was to take in the first place. For Sixtus it was obviously that his autonomous eastern "kingdom" was a short term measure and that reunification with the rest of Tarinia under a restored Sixurid monarchy was the end goal. His father, to say nothing of his mother and her Sasian relations, thought differently. For them a more permanent eastern "kingdom" allied, if not downright subservient, to Sasia serving as a counterweight to the Teborg ruled Tarinia was something worth considering if the Usurper's daughter and her regime did not soon fall and pave the way for the restoration. To Sixtus this was unacceptable. He was a prince of Tarinia, he had no intentions of carving out an independent state from the country he loved. Beside the practical problems was all but insurmountable.

Though confronted with such intractable problems Prince Sixtus had thrown himself at them with great energy and a furious pace of work. His goal was two-fold, to secure the restoration of the Sixurid monarchy and to do so without inflicting more suffering on the nation. Every day the Prince rose from his bed before the sun had risen and walked to his office to devote all his attention to managing if not solving the problems, and most days he did not return to his bed till long after the sun had set. It had given Sixtus a gaunt and dour complexion.

Yet it had begun to pay off. While the fundamental problems facing him remained unaddressed Sixtus had found a range of short-term fixes that could keep his statelet running, and running reasonably well and free of Sasian influence, and for a number of smaller problems permanent solutions had been found. Yet oftentimes it seemed to Sixtus that with each problem fixed two new ones appeared.

Like now this sad business with the Baronet of Itrino. Prince Sixtus shook his head in disgust and sighed. This lesser nobleman from a village far from Pontisara, the de facto capital of Prince Sixtus's "kingdom" had, quite inexplicably, pledged allegiance to the Usurper. This in and of itself was of course neither unusual nor particularly disturbing. The baronet was not the first person to do so and would not be the last. A depressing number, even of nobles, had determined, out of pragmatism or general affection for the Usurper and his illegitimate regime, to pledge allegiance to the Usurper. Though most people on Prince Sixtus's territory had the good sense not to make such pledges publicly and loudly. The Baronet of Itrino had shown no such discretion; very well the man was rightfully arrested. If Sixtus first allowed officials and nobles to declare for the Usurper, or now his daughter, without taking action he might as well flee across the Sasian border with his army. So the decision of the local magistrate to imprison the Baronet of Itrino had been right and just. Harsh? Perhaps, but entirely justifiable, and more lenient than the treatment the Usurper would have given any person on his territory which might pledge for the Sixurid monarchy.

But what happened after the Baronet's arrest most displeased Prince Sixtus. The local magistrate, under pressure from the pro-Sixurid vigilante groups that patrolled parts of Sixtus's territory, terrorizing the common people and giving the restoration a bad name, had determined to execute the Baronet as a traitor. The legality of the move was more than a little debatable, but Sixtus's revulsion was political and moral. Politically, executing semi-prominent pro-Teborg figures just when Sixtus was trying to send out peace feelers to the Usurper's daughter, was a terrible idea. Morally the execution of a man who had neither taken up arms against the restoration, nor encouraged to any sort of disobedience but had, simply, pledged his loyalty to the Usurper, was an exaggeration that sat uneasily with Prince Sixtus. The fact that somewhere in the pile of unread letters on his desk there sat one letter where he was informed of the execution order days in advance and might have been able to stop it had he seen the letter did not make matters better.

So Prince Sixtus did four things. First he had one of his adjutant draw up a posthumous pardon of the Baronet of Itrino. Sixtus could not give the Baronet back his life but he could restore the man to whatever honor he may have had and expunge his record as a traitor to the crown, perhaps giving some comfort to his family. Secondly Prince Sixtus tasked the Constable of Pontisara with bringing the vigilantism of the eastern provinces under control. The pro-Sixurid vigilantes would be conscripted into the army or the constabularies and no longer roam the provinces causing disquiet and unrest while undermining the rights of good hard-working Tarinian people. Thirdly Prince Sixtus informed the most senior judge at the law court of Pontisara that all executions carried out in Sixtus's domain would now require his signature to be legal, adding yet another task to his workload.

This done, the Prince dismissed his various aides and attendants and sat down behind his desk and took a deep breath. He had deserved a moments peace. He took the moment. Then he began writing a short letter to the son of the late Baronet, explaining the decisions he had made regard the man's father and offering a conditional restoration of the man's rights of inheritance. The letter was terse and to the point with little emotion or warmth, Sixtus was far too busy to sympathize with his enemies, yet it was polite and respectful. The letter done Prince Sixtus summoned his adjutant and presented him with the letter; "To the capital as soon as possible." He demanded, not seeing the serious grimace on the man's face. The adjutant took the letter with a bow. Sixtus then called for the rest of his various retainers to enter the room. The break was over. The merchants of Pontisara, the most consequential port on the western coast of Tarinia, was protesting the lowering of the tariffs on Sasian commerce that Sixtus had granted in exchange for a much needed loan from the Sasian royal treasury. Their concerns needed to be addressed. And so Prince Sixtus's work continued. But the faces of his attendants was grim and pained in a way that a tedious, if long, discussion about trade policy did not seem likely to illicit. "What has happened?" Sixtus barked, fearing bad news. An exhausted looking messenger in filthy clothes stepped forward holding a letter. He held out his hand towards Sixtus. "From your brother, Your Highness." The messenger spoke softly looking down at his feet. Confused Sixtus took the letter, absentminded he noticed the seal of the Sixurid family but he did not open the letter. "Well?" He asked, looking around at the grim faces surrounding him. There was a moments silence. Then general Nerio Clodio Naso stepped forth. "Your Royal Highness." He declared, the title betraying his news. "I regret to inform you that His Majesty, King Larth II, has died." General Naso declared. "The King is dead?" Sixtus asked. Naso and the rest of his attendants did not interpret it as a question and with one voice they spoke; "long live the king!"

To Dioneo Venier, Sixtus, Prince of Tarinia, sends his deepest condolences and best wishes,

Good Sir,

Having given due consideration to the execution of your father, the late Baronet of Itrino, I have found reason to question the decision of the judicial magistrate that passed the sentence of execution on the charge of treason. I note that your father, while refusing to acknowledge the rightful government to which he owed his allegiance, had taken no active part in destabilizing the lawful government of Tarinia. As such I find the decision of the court to execute him disproportionate to his crime. Therefore I am delighted to inform you of my desire to commute your father's sentence of treason to one of disloyalty, a lesser crime for which the punishment is imprisonment. As your father has already been executed I have however decided to posthumously exonerate him of all crimes. I realize this is a poor substitute for your father's forfeit life and offer my most heartfelt condolences to you and your family with your loss.

Due to the exoneration of your father, the forfeiture of his property resulting from his sentence, is reversed. Your father is confirmed as the lawful Baronet of Itrino with all the lands and properties that may entail. As the most senior male heir of his body, you are hereby acknowledged as the rightful Baronet of Itrino and the lawful heir of the lands and properties of this baronetcy. Congratulations. Your confirmation to title, lands and property is however conditional upon your pledge of allegiance to your rightful sovereign, my father, His Majesty King Larth II of Tarinia, brother of our late martyred sovereign. Pending your decision to pledge allegiance to His Majesty the title of Baronet of Itrino shall be considered in abeyance and the lands and property associated with it shall be administered by the Royal Council of Pontisara in accordance with the wishes of His Majesty and the interests of the state.

Sincerely yours,

Sixtus, Prince of Tarinia

[Recuecn]

Dioneo

The thing about being late is that being late makes you hurry, and hurrying makes you careless, and being careless slows you down even more... the more haste, the less speed, they say. That was definitely true for Dioneo right now. Typically, he would have spent the morning at the Lord Mayor's office stressing about his scheduled appointment at the palace that afternoon, but he'd been so busy he didn't even have time to worry about it. People had been in and out of the office all day, and he hadn't had time to discuss the palace appointment with the Lord Mayor until noon, so he'd wound up missing lunch. Now here he was, trying to dash off signatures on the last few papers that needed them and seal the dispatch for the palace, hungry, tired, and late.
Dioneo was rushing himself so much now that he had already stood to leave, yet he remained standing over his desk as he fumbled with the sealing wax trying to melt it over the candle. He poured the wax onto the envelope the dispatch was in, but as he reached for the Mayor's seal, in his haste he knocked over the candle. The flame jumped to the papers on the desk. "Damn, damn, damn," Dioneo cursed as he dropped the dispatch on the floor and tore off his jacket. His coat sufficed to beat out the flames, but in the process it blew everything else off the desk and knocked over his inkwell. Dioneo was too busy making sure nothing essential had burned up to be any more flustered by this; besides, he was probably about as flustered already as he could be.
The letters didn't seem to have been destroyed at all, but the corners were noticeably burnt. That wouldn't do at all. But Dioneo didn't have time to copy them out again, he was already late. Sighing, he scooped up papers from the floor and threw them in an unorganized heap on the desk. Then he turned to grab his coat, hoping it wouldn't be too singed--only to find it dripping with ink. The entire lower back was covered in a giant black splotch.
"Oh, no..." This was the last straw. The coat was new, too. Underneath where it had lain was the ink bottle lying on its side, only a couple drops left inside. It looked like the coat had stopped the ink from blotting a pile of records that lay on the desk at least, but this was small consolation. Gingerly holding his coat bunched up to avoid getting any more ink on his hands, Dioneo looked around for the dispatch to the palace--but it had disappeared. He couldn't see it anywhere. Dioneo could have screamed. Could this day get any worse? Little did he know...
The dispatch had wound up on the floor, hidden under his chair. It seemed to be the only thing left intact by the whole series of events. Dioneo looked over his shoulder as he left the room, frustrated; he'd have to come back tonight to clean this up and copy those letters again. But the office would be closed by then. How would he...
His thoughts were interrupted as he collided with Francis, the tower steward. "I'm so sorry sir," he said. "You are just the person I need though. I need to come back tonight after I get back from the palace--there's some letters I need to copy. Can you open the office for me then?"
Francis looked Dioneo up and down, taking in his state of disarray. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled something out. "Here, just take the key," he said. "I won't be here."
"Thank you greatly, sir." Dioneo took the key and was about to run off when he was interrupted.
"Wait, man," called the steward. "You're going to the palace--with that jacket? That won't do."
Dioneo began to stutter. "I don't know what to do, I'm already late--" but the steward was already pulling off his own jacket. He began to help Dioneo into it. Dioneo was overwhelmed.
"I can't thank you enough. I'm eternally obliged--"
Francis cut him off. "Run man, you can't be any later than you are already." Dioneo took off.
To get from City Tower to the royal palace, he would have to go a good part of the way across town, and through the busiest streets, too. But he might be be able to make up a good bit of lost time if he ran, and not be too late for his audience... "I need a horse," Dioneo thought. He was dashing up the market street now, having fought his arms into the sleeves of the steward's coat and thrust the dispatch he carried into the breast pocket. But as he turned to head up toward the palace, he caught a glimpse of a figure in his peripheral vision. It looked familiar. He must have seen them lounging across from the City Tower when he emerged into the road, and again, behind him, when he turned onto the market street... clearly he was being followed. And at this speed, as he jogged across town, one could hardly use the word 'followed'--this was a chase.
Dioneo didn't have time to be mugged. This was ridiculous. The whole day had been frantic, and now someone was chasing him through the streets of Biymond? Couldn't he catch a break? Now he had to find his way out of this somehow.
Seeing what looked like an opportunity, he seized it. As he passed a brasserie he knew on the corner of an alley, he darted around the wall and into the door just on his right. He tried to make his way somewhere to the back to hide in a corner. Hopefully when his pursuer turned the corner it would look like he had vanished, but if they weren't a total fool, they would figure out his trick. He had attracted a little attention from the few people in here by his sudden entrance, so if this person following him tried to attack him, a bystander might step in. Would his plan work?
No. The door swung open and in stepped a man dressed in somber colors with a dark half-cape slung around his shoulders. He wore tall riding boots flecked with dried mud, and by his appearance, Dioneo judged he'd been traveling for a couple days, at least. He looked exhausted. The man glanced nervously at the staff and patrons watching him as he came in, but stepped confidently over to Dioneo.
"Baronet D'Itrino, I presume?"
Dioneo was too surprised to speak for a moment. He stammered. "How did you--who--"
"I have a message for you," said the man. Dioneo waited. "It's private," he added.
It took a second for this to register with Dioneo, given the whole situation. This was playing out much differently than he had hoped, but at least he wasn't being mugged. Yet. Dioneo led the way to a table far in the back. He gestured for the man to sit down. Instead, the man reached into a leather pouch he carried and pulled out a sealed, unmarked envelope. Dioneo took it and looked at the seal, but it bore no means of identification either. "Who is this from?" Dioneo asked.
The man looked around, making certain no one could hear him as he replied in a low voice. "This letter is from Prince Sixtus himself. I've brought it from Pontisara." This man had risked his life then. He would certainly have been killed if anyone had realized he bore a letter from the Pretender. Dioneo didn't have the wherewithal to wonder if he should turn the man in; he was too shocked to receive a letter from the Prince of the Sixurid dynasty. He was also to preoccupied to point out to the man that with the death of King Larth, Sixtus was no longer prince, but king, at least according to his supporters.
"Thank you," Dioneo said. The man bowed. With no further ado he turned to leave. Dioneo was too engrossed in his letter to notice. Surely, here would be news of his family. As it was almost impossible to get news to or from the parts of Tarinia that weren't under Teborg control, Dioneo hadn't had news of his family for months. The last he had heard was a rumor that his father had tried to stand up for the Teborgs. Dioneo assumed that meant he was dead.
He had ripped open the envelope by now. Inside was another. This one, although also unaddressed, was sealed with the seal of the Sixurid dynasty. Dioneo opened the second envelope and put the seal face-down. It wouldn't do to have anyone seeing that.
Now he held in his hands the letter from the prince. He didn't have time to read the whole thing--there was no way he'd make it to the palace on time now--but he had to see what it said. Skimming over the generic greeting, he read:

Having given due consideration to the execution of your father, the late Baronet of Itrino, I have found reason to question the decision of the judicial magistrate that passed the sentence of execution on the charge of treason. I note that your father, while refusing to acknowledge the rightful government to which he owed his allegiance, had taken no active part in destabilizing the lawful government of Tarinia. As such I find the decision of the court to execute him disproportionate to his crime. Therefore I am delighted to inform you of my desire to commute your father's sentence of treason to one of disloyalty, a lesser crime for which the punishment is imprisonment.

Dioneo's heart leaped for joy. His father was alive then! Dioneo jumped up from his seat. The adrenaline that he had built up was releasing in a wave of euphoria. He felt himself dancing about on his toes. This joy! It was too much! He would see his father again! Maybe he could go home!
The energy he felt made him giddy. He had to burn it off somehow. Grabbing the letter and sticking it in his breast pocket with the Mayor's dispatch, he launched himself out the door and ran down the street. His catharsis carried him all the way to the palace.
At the palace, things had a grandeur and a clout that made it seem that nothing else was quite as real. As you were ushered into its halls, you felt that the happiness you had felt a moment ago was only a commoner's surge of emotion. It was not of the same material as the haughty superiority exuded by the court. It felt as though a door was being slammed in your face. It didn't help of course, that a literal door was slammed in Dioneo's face.
"I'm sorry sir," said the guard. "Your audience was to have been half an hour ago. The queen is in conference with her ministers now. You will have to wait. No one is admitted to the minister's meeting who is not of the same peerage."
Dioneo sighed. He knew there was no use arguing. But the guard was not done.
"You will still need to present your dispatch," he continued. "It is very gracious of the queen to consider you thus after your behavior this afternoon. It is unacceptable to be late for such a meeting. The queen may not be kept waiting."
"My apologies," said Dioneo.
"You may wait in the hall," said the guard.
Dioneo found an upholstered chair against the wall where he could sit and wait, albeit uncomfortably. He was exhausted now after all that had happened. He felt his pent-up stress releasing as he breathed heavily. His forehead was sweating. What a day it was. Yet even as overwhelmed as he felt, Dioneo was still totally unaware of the devastating blow he was about to receive. Now, at least, he would have time to finish the letter from the prince. He pulled it back out and found where he had left off.

As your father has already been executed I have however decided to posthumously exonerate him of all crimes.

Dioneo's mind was reeling before he made it to the second half of the sentence. He felt as though he'd been pushed off a cliff. His head was swimming, and his vision began to blur. His breaths came in erratic heaves. He read the sentence again. Still unable to believe what he was seeing, he returned to the beginning to read the letter over. And there it was, right at the top. Sixtus, Prince of Tarinia, sends his deepest condolences. Dioneo leaned the back of his head against the wall. A minute ago, he'd been exuberant. Now, all of that had been taken away from him. This was worse than having no news at all. Dioneo was sweating all over now, his cheeks red, his eyes stinging with tears. His father was gone. Hanged, no doubt, like a common criminal. And that prince was responsible! That pretender! Executed for treason!? The Teborgs bore the crown! Sixtus was the traitor! Dioneo buried his face in his hands. The letter fluttered to the ground, as did the envelope, exposing the seal. Dioneo snatched it up. Surely no one had seen it, but one couldn't be too sure.
Clutching the letter, Dioneo finished reading it all the way through. This was too much to process. This man who had just let his father die was now trying to win him back to his side with promises of the return of his estate. Perhaps it was because of his shattered state that Dioneo felt this tug at him. The idea of a returning home, seeing his mother again, seeing his people once more--it pulled at him. It sounded nice. A refuge from the chaos of the capital and the mess that the country was in. But Dioneo knew it wasn't that simple. Accepting Sixtus' offer would mean betraying not only the queen, but all his connections here, everyone who had meant something to him over the last few years. It would be a betrayal of his duties to the Lord Mayor, to the city, to his friends--yet what of his duties to the people of Itrino? Didn't they deserve his leadership too? Was he to abandon them, out of fear?
As the first wave of his emotions began to calm, Dioneo's feelings towards Sixtus became much less concrete. His intense hate dissipated. Most likely the prince was not in fact responsible for Dioneo's father's death. It seemed he had even wanted to stop it. Then why hadn't he? Dioneo still had questions. In fact, he had more questions than before he had gotten the letter. His thoughts were all mixed up. A response to this would take a clear head. Well, that would be a while.
Dioneo looked around. He inferred from a few sidelong glances from other courtiers that his emotional agony had not gone unnoticed. Embarrassed, he stood and paced out of the room, looking for somewhere else in the palace to wait.

[Utceforp]

Andrew Castel

The Bay of Penkafti, south of Kaga

The sea stretched on forever. The endless flat expanse was interrupted only by an array of tiny galleys, which seemed as insects, scurrying across the water with their long wooden legs. On one side there were about eighty ships arrayed in a straight line, flying the peacock feather banner of the Empire of Kanisu. Opposite them were a hundred odd ships flying almost as many banners - The fleets of Derland and Kaga making up the majority, augmented by condottieri and privateers from all over Rinin and Emura, arrayed in a wide crescent. One of these ships was the Golden Queen, and on it stood Andrew Castel.

"Cannoneers! When we're in range, I will give you the signal to fire! If we miss, we will be dead before we have a chance to reload. As such, I have decided that you will not miss! Arquebusiers! Once our cannons scoured their decks and we have rammed somebody, you brave and stupid men will board that ship and kill every Kanisu bastard you can find! After doing so, you will board another ship, and kill all of its bastards! I imagine you can work out the rest! Rowers! Your duty is the same as ever, but do it well, and you will be free men by sunset!"

Andrew listened intently to his captain's instruction, and dutifully loading his arquebus. The ships gradually approached each other, and with every inch the young sellsword's heart seemed to beat faster. After what seemed like both an eternity and no time at all, Andrew heard the sound of cannonfire.

But the Derlander-Kaga fleet had not yet fired their guns. The Kanisu admiral had taken a gamble and decided to fire early. Just as Andrew was processing this, a cannonball ripped through the Golden Queen's mast and knocked Andrew to the ground. He began standing back up, but noticed a strange sensation in his left shoulder. He looked, and was mildly disturbed upon discovering an apple-sized chunk of his arm had simply disappeared. He remained conscious long enough to see the enormous Kanisu flagship collide with the Golden Queen's port side.

Sir Andrew Castel

Fleet Admiral's Apartments, Adenastead Palace, Tarinia

Sir Andrew idly rubbed his long-useless left arm, grimacing as he shook off the dream. He always hated the dreams. In his waking hours he had clawed his way to the top of this world, from the exiled son of a glorified butler to one of the wealthiest men in Rinin. In his dreams he was always a stupid boy again, powerless and afraid.

He massaged his head and remembered what he had been doing. He was sitting in his chair rather than lying in his bed - He had been working when he fell asleep, looking at maps and charts, and considering plans. His candles had burned down over the course of the night, but the first rays of the morning sun illuminated the room well enough.

Sir Andrew returned to his work, and spread a map of Rinin and its ports across his table. With the Sixurids and Sasians occupying Tarinia's western coastline, merchants loyal to the Teborgs were forced to take circuitous routes around Kobia and Pyguk in order to reach the New World. Derland was exerting its might over the eastern seas as well, tightening the noose further. Derland also posed a threat to Sir Andrew personally - He owned controlling interest in the Fellowship of Explorers and Merchants to the New World, a Tarinian joint-stock company that made its money primarily from the indigo trade, and Derlander privateers had been eating into his profits for months. He sometimes wondered how many of the privateers that harassed his businesses were his former comrades-in-arms.

Just then, a servant rapped on Sir Andrew's door. "Come in", Andrew muttered, not looking up from his work.

"My lord, the Queen requests your presence. She is gathering her advisors to address the threat of Derlander privateers."

"Ah, good lad. The girl has sense. Very well, lead the way."

Sir Andrew followed the servant through the halls of the palace to the waiting queen.

[Talchyon]

En route to the palace
His Excellency, Duke Casimir Langrayne, high chancellor

The carriage rumbled over the cobblestone road. It was a more convenient way of traveling - and more prestigious - than riding on horseback. Only those in position of power could ride while others waited on them. Let a soldier or a lesser lord ride on a horse. Duke Casimir Langrayne was intent on sending the right message, and that was that he belonged here.

That sentiment was even more established in Langrayne's mind when he arrived, at roughly the same time as a man in muddy riding boots ran up, exhausted. He was a lesser lord, a baronet and Langrayne knew him. The chancellor had a keen memory for faces and names, and always kept track of the major and minor players in the Game of Houses. This man, this Dioneo, had chosen to run of all things to the palace, as if he were going to annoy the queen if he kept her waiting. Langrayne's attitude was exactly the opposite. "Let her wait for me." Because great men do not run. Running was for children and fools and slaves in the arena, but not for those who one day would sit on thrones. Not for one such as Casimir Langrayne.

Taking enough of his dear sweet time to ensure that his servant had what the chancellor had brought with him and what was needed, Langrayne's servant dusted his master off. And all was ready. Being recognized on sight, Langrayne entered the palace without a reaction. Approaching the guard at the entry to the inner chambers where the meeting was to be held, Langrayne saw the pathetic Dioneo pleading with the guard who was denying him access. And the baron's expression was one of weariness, as well as something else. Something surprised, but not necessarily frightened. Curious. There appeared to be the outlines of a parchment sticking out of the lesser lord's tunic pocket, and it appeared that he had recently received news from somewhere. Something for Langrayne to keep in mind.

Striding up to the guard as Dioneo was sitting on the upholstered chair by the wall, the chancellor appeared before the guard. The guard's eyes grew wide, and with a deferential bow, said only, "Your excellency," as Langrayne entered the inner chambers of the queen. There were some others there already, but there was a slight anticipation in the air, which suggested that he was not late at all. The thought dismayed him. No chance that he could use making the meeting wait for him, to his advantage. Still, his face betrayed nothing as he approached the queen with a slight bow, showing the proper and customary respect for one in his position. "Your Majesty. It is good to see you. May God bless your health."

[Aureumterra]

Adenastead Palace, Biymond, Tarinia
Sophie greeted Duke Caisimir, her chancellor and the highest position outside of royalty in Tarinia. Of course, he was her subservient to her, she was the queen after all. She also greeted Sir Andrew, who perhaps had the most important job here, as he was in charge of taking down the Derlander privateers.

“Greetings all, we have gathered to discuss solutions on the Derlander crisis. Their privateers have been sabotaging our indigo trade, and indigo, as you know, is one of the most important resources we grow on New World soil. It is purple gold, and it is critical to our economy. We need to solve this, I have a letter from the head of the new world colonizers here as well.” Sophie read the letter out loud and waited for any suggestions.

[Khasinkonia]

אֶלֻאַנַט, דֻשֶׁשׂ אַן בַּשׂ צֶרוּ
Alongside the Queen

I listened intently to my Queen and her men as they took turns speaking, until the Queen read aloud the letter she’d previously received from abroad. I pondered myself for a moment on what might be a wise course of action. The Viceroy strongly recommended military action. I couldn’t fault him for that. Shows of force were a diplomatic gesture that rarely got lost in translation. “Do not trifle with us” could be communicated with a simple ball of metal volleyed near the side of a ship, though sending it through could result in a different message. Boats were built in ports, so a part of me wondered if there were some way to prevent such a thing.

“A query, if I may, my Queen?” I softly said, raising my left hand with a pointer to the sky to indicate an idea of mine, “What if one was to make use of the nation’s superior manpower to Derland’s and threaten war should the privateers continue their attacks? There is a direct land border with the nation, and the nation’s navy, to my understanding, is perfectly capable of supporting such an endeavour were such a warning not heeded. One might send a messenger bearing a message expressing, in more diplomatically indirect terms: “We tire of your privateers’ attacks on our sovereign ships. We recommend you stop lest more severe repercussions than a reprimand be enacted. Should such transgressions against us continue, our wrath will be wrought upon you with no further mercy.”

Would a statement of the sort be excessively inflammatory for the current state of international affairs? I apologise profusely in advance if my humble suggestion is out of line.”

[Utceforp]

Sir Andrew made a vague, dismissive gesture with his intact arm. He was surprised the queen's companion had been brave enough to speak in the first place. It was a strange sight to see an unqualified girl make a suggestion to the Queen and her ministers, let alone one who was by all accounts essentially a mute. Her sheer audacity was the only reason he wasn't outraged. Still, bravery didn't breed competence, and it was time for order to be restored.

"It would be an empty threat, girl, and they would call our bluff. A protracted land war with Derland would necessitate moving most of our forces from the western borderlands. With the old tyrant's nephew still openly in rebellion, and his Sasian puppeteers watching for any sign of weakness, that's an impossibility. We would be inviting ourselves into a two-front war."

Sir Andrew turned to the Queen. "What I propose, my Queen, is that we respond in kind. We begin issuing our own letters of marque, and hire privateers to harass Derland's trade. Their ships have to travel south past our territory to reach the New World, but ours do not have to travel past their land - We would hit them harder than they're hitting us. I still have friends in the northern seas, and I believe I could convince many of them to work for us, even some of those that have are already working for Derland. Oh, and also - we would take the sailors captured by our privateers and use them as rowers in an expanded galley fleet. There's no use in wasting a resource, and they would be of help if we end up in your handmaiden's war."

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Henry "the Bastard" Teborg

Ideas, ideas was what he had heard, and a few of them had merit. "Why yes, we could do that, good Sir," he agreed with him, giving him a nod for that cherry on top effect, and now, for his own idea, "We also could do, a few rather underhanded things within Derland, yes.". He looked at the Queen, with a curt nod, he began speaking once more, "My Queen, birds have been singing some rather odd things, yes, when I threw some bird seed at them," he paused, placing a hand on his chin, "They speak of a few strange occurences of dissidents appearing, perhaps we could use them to our advantage.". "There is also another option, and its about the Derlander colonies and the people within them," he looked upon a map on the table where they were on, "People there are starting to be annoyed, perhaps we can tip that annoyance into anger.". He sat back, putting another hand on his chin, "This is a high risk high reward idea, as word of revolt in their colonies could spread to our own and spark yet another one.".

He looked at Sir Andrew, "Hmm, I have another idea that you could use in conjunction with your own, yes." He had told him in a singsong voice. "It involves starving a colony with these privateers of yours.". He took a breather before resuming, "Tell these our privateers, if we ever have them, to take, or if they can't, sink any ship with supplies meant to help their colonies," he said, "This ensures that the people there get angry and hungry, and we can simply swoop in like heroes.". "Or we could simply kill a few people here and there and watch Derland dissolve as a nation." He smiled, "Either way, any ideas? All ears from me, yes.".

[Recuecn]

Dioneo

Dioneo had left his spot in the antechamber, and was now pacing through the halls of the palace, trying to process his thoughts. Although he now came here quite frequently thanks to his duties as the Lord Mayor's Envoy, he was certainly not familiar with most of the palace, as he had little cause to explore most of it. Now, then, he was a little bit lost, although he knew he had not wandered far. He stopped as he heard a murmur of voices from behind a tapestry. Approaching cautiously, he distinctly heard the voice of the Admiral of the Fleet, saying something about "the handmaiden's war." What a catchy name, thought Dioneo. He stopped to listen.
The Bastard Teborg spoke next. Dioneo wondered if there was some sort of secret passageway behind the tapestry, since he seemed to be able to follow the conversation quite clearly. It would make sense, he supposed, to have some means of egress from the chamber into this back hall, where no one seemed to be around. The conversation seemed to be turning towards violence--if not the handmaiden's war, then at least a privateering campaign, or support of a revolt in Derland's colonies. This was concerning. If the nation's energy were focused abroad, then the people of Biymond would suffer--and with a pretender to the throne, this was hardly the time, thought Dioneo. Still, on the other hand... perhaps a greater focus on the colonies would allow the people of the capital an opportunity to gain a little more autonomy for themselves...
His mind still working quickly, Dioneo thought once more of Prince Sixtus' letter he had received. It grated him to put up with the man who allowed his father to die, but still--the Prince did have access to Dioneo's sister, and his mother, the Baroness D'Itrino. If he wanted them to remain safe, he would have to do as the prince said. The same went for the people of Itrino... to see them again and find out what they wanted, he'd have to play along. Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he dashed off a quick message to the Prince. He thanked the prince for his condolences, indicated his allegiance, and asked if there was anything he could do while at court to be of service to him. Dioneo wasn't sure he meant it, since he wasn't sure he was ready to commit treason, but if the Prince believed it, that would be good. Of course, just writing that was already treason, so it was too late. Dioneo didn't want to offer to do anything for the Prince either, but he felt he had to to gain his trust, so that was that. Now he would just have to wait and see what the prince asked of him. He would send off the message as soon as he could.